Nicole Jones, March 20th
Since it's
been five days since Rachel and I started the Black Bow Project, I've decided
to formally announce the sorry truth: I'm an introvert. And I'm not just saying
that. Honest! The Myers-Briggs Type Indicator only proved the suspicions I had
long held. That being the case, it is understandably way, way out
of my comfort zone to ask people for donations.
Even when I
organized an entire Freedom Ball, which raised loads of money to help victims
of sex trafficking, it was different. Almost everyone who contributed that
money paid for a service. We gave them dinner, a dance, and a
program. Some people kindly donated their time, energy, and talent, but there
were very few monetary donations. For the most part, people gave with the full
knowledge that they were getting something in return.
A quarter, or
a handful of change, isn't much to ask for. In fact, these days, quarters are
small change, as common as copper pennies. Still, there is something in me that
shudders to ask even for a quarter. Perhaps it's an injury to my pride or
something – lowering myself to beg for change. I suddenly get just a taste of
how the homeless guys feel, standing out on the street with their pitiful
cardboard signs. People, they weren't doing it because it's fun, or it's a lazy
way to collect free cash. I'm positively convinced of it. There is nothing so
shameful as standing on the sidewalk waving your “Anything helps. God bless
you” sign. It takes real gumph, and perhaps absolute desperation.
It's humbling
– that's what. Humbling for them to ask for granola bars, and for me to ask for
quarters. This is what occurred to me when I wondered at myself for being so
reluctant about asking for donations. It's a quarter, for goodness sake, not a
person's life's savings! I'm asking them to donate the change they would
normally pop in their pockets, forget about, and loose somewhere in the washing
machine. Why am I ashamed?
When I
started asking myself these questions, something else struck me. I'm not asking
for myself. Perhaps this hesitancy to ask for handouts would be understandable
and excusable if I was just collecting money for a personal new laptop. But
these quarters? They're not for me. They are for suffering girls, who have been
hurt very deeply in the sex trafficking trade. For girls who need support while
they receive care, counseling, and therapy to recover from painful physical,
emotional, and mental scars. Frankly, I want money to be the last thing on
their mind.
There is
nothing selfish in my request for spare change. There is nothing to be ashamed
of. Yes, it's humbling. But humility, I'm starting to learn, is a virtue, not a
vice. And if God begins this Black Bow journey by gifting me with a healthy
dose of humility, then it's just gonna get better from here. After all, this is
what I've prayed for. I've asked Him that this project would not simply be
about helping out the Cinderella House and praying for the girls there, but
that it be a learning and growing experience for me to personally become more
conformed to His image.
A very wise
man (ok, so it was my pastor) once told me that God doesn't want our ministry
as much as He wants us. He wants us to be near Him, to long for Him, to know
Him, to serve Him, to give our lives to Him. In the end, the Black Bow Project
isn't about the quarters at all. It's about radically loving God and loving our
neighbor better, learning what He wants to teach us in the process.
That said, if
the first lesson He wants to teach me is humility... deep breath....
I'm ready.
