Development as Donor Catechesis, Part II: Include a Required Test in Every Newsletter

Those who come from a high church background will be familiar with the concept of the “church year”–the liturgical calendar that runs from Advent to Christmas to Epiphany to Lent to Easter to Pentecost to Ordinary Time and back around again, forming a three-year cycle for the recurring study of specific Scriptures/themes of faith.

As Halden Doerge notes in a truly killer post in Imitatio Dei, the point of the liturgical calendar is to grow Christians to full maturity in Christ. Problem is, Doerge posits, it doesn’t really, um, do that:

In light of what I’ve experienced in practicing this way of keeping time and in the many theological and philosophical books currently in vogue that have a strong emphases on the liturgical year, I’ve come to have some doubts about its ability to do all we tend to hope. The Christian year we are told, forms us differently than the secular calendar, it immerses us in the story of Jesus and the church, training us to resist other loyalties, allegiances, priorities, and practices. This is commonly accepted in certain theological circles these days.

This claim, however, somehow seems to avoid being put to any empirical testing even though it is an empirical claim. The argument is made that liturgy does in fact form and shape a people that resist global capitalism, aren’t seduced by American militarism, and so on, and yet when asked where this particular liturgy-formed people is, there is usually just some quick excuses and then a return to extolling the virtues of the liturgy. Maybe the reason is that the liturgy that most Christian communities practice has been corrupted by secular calendars and methods. But empirically there’s not really any evidence for churches with untouched, uncorrupted liturgies birthing people who live more faithfully. There’s no sign that high church liturgies that haven’t been influenced by “the world” inherently produce social bodies that do all the things liturgical enthusiasts insist are encoded into the liturgy. One could cite the massive amounts of pristine and pure liturgy that went on in the Medieval Crusades, Hitler’s Germany, Pinochet’s Chile, or the famous scene in The Godfather when Michael Corleone renounces Satan and all his works as his minions slaughter his rivals.

So what’s the connection between the liturgical calendar and donor development?

Just this:

The liturgical calendar is supposed to grow Christians to fullness in Christ but doesn’t. But we wouldn’t know this because we don’t measure the maturity of individual Christians in churches.

In the same way, as we contend in The Whole Life Offering, donor development in Christian organizations should be undertaken for the purpose of growing Christians to fullness in Christ in relation to the cause the Christian org has been entrusted to steward. Because most Christian organizations don’t measure the maturity of individual donors (instead, we measure their financial giving), they simply don’t know what grows donors…and what does not.

Interestingly, research suggests that one thing that definitely grows individuals…is testing. Witness the recent piece in the New York Times entitled To Really Learn, Quit Studying and Take a Test:

Taking a test is not just a passive mechanism for assessing how much people know, according to new research. It actually helps people learn, and it works better than a number of other studying techniques.

The research, published online Thursday in the journal Science, found that students who read a passage, then took a test asking them to recall what they had read, retained about 50 percent more of the information a week later than students who used two other methods.

Upshot:

Why not include a test in every newsletter you send to your donors, one that they’re required to take–and pass–in order to stay on your donor file and receive the next newsletter?

Why not take things a step further and create a short essay contest in each newsletter, letting donors/readers vote for the winner who is then awarded with a paid ministry opportunity?

Lest you sputter and scoff in protest too much that “Donors aren’t going to want to do that!” consider:

  • whether a development program driven by donor desires is going to be effective in growing people to fullness in Christ
  • whether donors’ lack of interest in such an approach may point to a fundamental flaw in how and where we recruit donors in the first place, and what we tell them as we’re recruiting them

In other words, perhaps the problem is that we recruit donors by appealing to their immediate emotions rather than their desire to grow to become a certain kind of person, e.g., a mature Christian?

Do we really believe that it would not be possible to build a development program by saying:

Look, we’re not here to tug on your heart strings. We’re here to say, if you’re genuinely interested in making a difference in the lives of North Korean Christians living in concentration camps, we can help you do that. But it’s going to involve your willingness to become a student and head back to school for a while. We don’t do a newsletter like a typical charity. Instead, we send a monthly educational brief that contains a quiz with several short-answer questions at the end of each issue. Fail to send the quiz in and we’ll remove you from our mailing list, no questions asked. But send it in and we’ll interact with you on it and help you identify and overcome your blind spots and be trained to give effectively to the cause–your money, your prayers, your volunteer time, and your network of influence.

Granted, some donors would prefer to receive address labels or groveling letters or tear-laden testimonials that induce momentary fits of emotion-laden generosity.

But should Christian orgs really want to build a development program on such a platform? And is it even effective over the long term?

Perhaps it’s too ambitious and prideful for us to try to build a successful donor development program. Maybe we should focus first on growing just our most committed donors to fullness in Christ in our shared cause.

Maybe if we did that, making the process challenging, rewarding, and anything but solicitous, we’d find that we attracted a higher quality of donor such that we could accomplish a lot more with a lot fewer people anyway.


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Development as Donor Catechesis, Part I: What Fundraisers Can Learn from the Worship Wars

Maybe you and I should order copies of T. David Gordon’s Why Johnny Can’t Sing Hymns–right after we order copies of my new The Whole Life Offering: Christianity As Philanthropy, of course. The books have a surprising amount in common.

Check out Gordon’s comments in a recent CT interview:

I’m not so sure that accommodation to an individual’s consumerist preferences is consistent with the gospel call. The gospel doesn’t say, “You’ve got most things right, you just need to throw some Jesus in there.” Rather, it says, “You’ve got everything wrong, because you’re not correctly related to God. Therefore, you’ve got to be willing to give up everything—mother, father, sister, brother, daughter, whatever—to follow Christ. And if not, you’re not worthy of him.”

Will some people swallow hard and say no to that? Yes. But I’m not sure we should say, “Well, what kind of music do you like? After all, we’re just worshiping God here, and we have no standards other than what you like.” Saying “it’s all about you” isn’t the way to go about evangelism.

It might be better to say, “You may wonder why we sang a hymn today written by Bernard of Clairvaux in the 12th century. We do it because we think it’s a good reflection on what our Redeemer did. We don’t really care whether it’s new or old.” That might cause a person to say, “Here’s one institution in the entirety of our culture that isn’t driven by consumer preference. Isn’t that curious?”

It’s that last comment that grabs and inspires me: With fundraising today reduced to little more than an effort to figure out how to talk about our causes so that people will throw money at them, what would it be like to be the kind of nonprofit about which people would say, “Here’s one institution in the entirety of our culture that isn’t driven by consumer preference. Isn’t that curious?”

So what would it look like for fundraising to be driven by something other than consumer preference?

I’m suggesting–as I do in The Whole Life Offering book–that we be driven by whatever it takes to bring donors to fullness in Christ in relation to the cause we’ve been given to steward. I believe that faithfulness to that goal would lead us to some very unusual donor development practices, things like:

  • Supplying donors with study materials…and then removing them from our mailing lists if they fail the required tests that we supply
  • Requiring donors to reflect on and then share with us why they are giving…before we are willing to accept their gifts
  • Evaluating the success of our fundraising activities not on the basis of which produce the highest percent response or the most money…but rather the most quantifiable growth according to biblically-based standards of personal maturity in Christ

That’s the tall order we’ve placed for ourselves in this latest series we’re undertaking, entitled, “Development as Donor Catechesis.” So pull up a copy of The Whole Life Offering as in our next post we explore–and commend–the practice of testing donors as a means of determining who stays on our donor files…and who does not.

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Why the Confession App May Be A Good Idea But One Bible Per Person May Be A Bad Idea

Seeing as I had previously given a thumbs-halfway-up to one of several confession apps now available on the iPhone, I was happy to see Christianity Today offer similarly hedged enthusiasm in their editorial entitled iPhone Apps and the Old Adam:

We believe the confession app generally points Christians of all stripes in a helpful direction. For one, it asks them to turn inward to examine broken patterns of thinking and feeling, thus preventing a rote faith that relies solely on priests to deal with sin. The app also chastens the believer who thinks he’s on his merry way to sanctification. As the iPhone is ever before the user, helping him manage e-mail and to-do lists and travel routes, so those pesky but piercing questions are ever before him, hopefully inciting the same sorrow over sin as the psalmist’s (Psalm 51:3). And, as good evangelicals, we welcome most any new technology that could introduce a generation to Christ and spur believers’ growth in him.

That last sentence is as good a statement of the value of a Participation project as one is likely to find. As we’ve shared in multiple previous posts (just type “SPP” into the search box on this site for dozens of ’em), Participation projects are designed to be short-term, high-touch, high-yield, understandable without external reference, and inducing a thirst for something more and deeper.

The CT editorial does note a legitimate potential negative about apps like this, namely, the possibility that they might further privatize faith:

But more perniciously, the app—unless used in a small group or service where every person holds an iPhone—cannot help being individualistic. And this is precisely how the Devil would have us try to address sin. “Sin demands to have a man by himself,” observed Dietrich Bonhoeffer, in a long meditation on confession in Life Together. “It withdraws him from the community. The more isolated a person is, the more destructive will be the power of sin over him.”

That’s why in my post I suggested that the Penance app, deeply flawed though it obviously is, provides the best path forward, since it requires users not only to be involved in the confession process but the absolution process as well.

But at a deeper level, the concern raised by CT is, I think, valid even at the level of causing us to ask what sounds borderline heretical:

Are we really helping ourselves grow in Christ through the mass profusion of Bibles under which the average Christian family is buried (the typical Christian family in the US owns nine Bibles, says a Zondervan study, and is actively seeking to buy one more)?

Or, put differently, as crazy as it sounds to ask, do “personal Bibles” (one to ten per family member) promote Christian growth better than one shared family Bible?

I ask after reading James Alexander’s long out-of-print Thoughts on Family Worship, now brought back into circulation by The Legacy Ministry. Some of the content is, er, quite 1847ish (e.g., “The fondness of the black race for music is proverbial. It is rare to meet with an african who does not sing”), but in other places the text holds its own in 2011.

It certainly has me thinking that, sure, it’s possible to say, “Let’s give everyone in the family a Bible (or three or four) and also read from one of them aloud in family worship.” But what happens when the Bible becomes the family’s book, studied and read and heard together (“Blessed is the one who reads aloud the words of this prophecy, and blessed are those who hear it,” intones John in Revelation 1:3) rather than separately?

We’re so accustomed in our day to reading our Bibles separately and praying separately that a confession app may not be our biggest enticement to the sin of individualism.

The cheerfu’ supper done, wi’ serious face,
They round the ingle form a circle wide;
The sire turns o’er wi’ patriarchal grace
The big Aa’ Bible, ance his father’s pride:
His bonnet reverently is laid aside,
His lyart haffets wearing thin and bare:
Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide,
He wales a portion with judicious care;
And, Let us worship God! he says with solemn air….

The priest-like father reads the sacred page,
How Abram was the friend of God on high,
Or Moses bade eternal warfare wage
With Amalek’s ungracious progeny;
Or how the royal bard did groaning lie
Beneath the stroke of Heaven’s avenging ire;
Or Job’s pathetic plaint and wailing cry;
Or rapt Isaiah’s wild seraphic fire;
Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre.

Compared with this how poor religion’s pride,
In all the pomp of method and of art,
When men display to congregations wide,
Devotion’s every grace except the heart;
The Power incensed the pageant will desert,
The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole;
But haply in some cottage far apart,
May hear well-pleased the language of the soul,
And in His book of life the inmates poor enroll.
from Thoughts on Family Worship, pp. 20-22

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