Peter Greer's Blog, page 2

Where We Are in the Story of Easter

The story of Good Friday didn’t begin that morning. The narrative arc opens many years earlier in Bethlehem, with the miraculous fulfillment of prophecies spoken long ago. The story of an anticipated Savior unfolds with miraculous healings and captivating teachings to growing crowds. But the narrative arc peaks on the night before Good Friday. The rising action reels us in:

We find Jesus gathered with his closest friends, washing their feet.
He slips away to a nearby garden, wary and tense, while the rest of the world sleeps.
Judas, a close friend, becomes a betrayer and sells Jesus out for cash.

And on Good Friday, it seems as though the story concludes.

There’s a string of unjust trials in the city epicenter.
A gruesome (and undeserved) sentence ushers in episodes of violence and agony.
Jesus is marched through the streets, jeered and mocked.
The Messiah is hung on a cross, struck with anguish and grief.
Jesus breathes his last, and the earth quakes.

We feel the weight of each scene. The devastation is palpable.
But before the city’s gossip over Friday’s events goes silent, God reveals the unexpected. This is not the end; the climax in the story arc is still coming:

Sunday morning, Jesus’ mother starts up the path to her son’s resting place.
Crying out, she freezes in horror, finding Jesus’ tomb has been tampered with.
Suddenly an angel appears with incredible news.
Jesus! Alive! Is it too good to be true? Who would have seen this coming?

And we know how the rest goes…
It’s the best resolution anyone could have hoped for. And it’s real.
Jesus’ mother and disciples had brand new reasons for rejoicing that day. Easter morning delivered a joy-filled conclusion. A perfect story arc.

Yet there is one thing I’ve realized after so many years of talking about the Easter narrative: a significant portion of the plot feels left out. We get so excited to jump to the good news of the resolution that we miss the lesson in the lull before the climax—we miss the Saturday in the middle.

In the Easter story, Saturday barely shows up. Of the four Gospel writers, only Matthew mentions it, and he devotes a scant five sentences. We’re told some nervous Pharisees and chief priests ask Pilate’s permission to place guards in front of Jesus’ tomb. Pilate agrees, and that’s that.

We don’t know how the disciples spent their Sabbath Saturday. We aren’t told what Jesus’ family does in their grief. All we have is an imagining of the 24 hours they experienced. Their heads must have been spinning and their grief overwhelming. We imagine their disappointment, confusion, and anger. Jesus was gone; the story seemed finished.

The same might feel true of how we navigate our own Saturdays on this side of heaven.

It is easy to feel heavy-hearted over many situations in our lives and in our world. We recently passed the one-year mark since Russia invaded Ukraine. Despite unstable circumstances, last week I was able to spend time with HOPE International’s team in Ukraine for a visit. While I’d seen headline after headline of schools hollowed out, hospitals reduced to brick piles, and family members without homes because of misaimed bomb raids, it was an entirely different experience to spend time with people who lived in this reality.

Our Ukrainian brothers and sisters have been experiencing the utter devastation that comes from war with a ruthless enemy. They shoulder feelings very similar to those the disciples must have felt—carrying burdens of disappointment, confusion, anger, and grief.

There is no script for them to follow that promises a joy-filled resolution, yet I am constantly encouraged by their hope-filled response. Our colleagues in Ukraine have shared countless examples of how they’ve been spending their “Saturdays.” As they wait for peace, they persevere. They support their nation’s recovery and come alongside entrepreneurs who are rebuilding. Churches still meet to proclaim the goodness of God and to sacrificially love their neighbors.

As they face the realities of Saturday circumstances, they remember where they are in the story. They remain assured of the goodness that Sunday can bring and the faithfulness of our Father who orchestrates it.

As we support our friends in difficult seasons or spend Easter Sunday wrestling with our own Saturday realities, be encouraged: This isn’t the end of the story. Our resolution may not be the ending we are praying for, or the one we would expect, but we can trust that the same God who raised Jesus from the dead is alive and active in our world today. There is reason to keep going—because Sunday is almost here.

Co-authored by LeAnna Vine.

The Russian Church has a choice: empire or Kingdom?

On March 15, Russian police detained Anastasia Parshkova, a young woman who stood outside Moscow’s main Orthodox cathedral holding a sign that read, “Thou shalt not kill.” Those words, straight from the biblical Ten Commandments, represented one reason why people of faith might be opposed to the Russian government’s invasion of Ukraine on February 24. It’s difficult to construe Russia’s unprovoked attacks against Ukraine as just or unavoidable. Yet among Russian Orthodox Church leaders, Parshkova would find little support. In April, Time magazine reported that although some brave priests had spoken out, not a single senior cleric inside Russia had expressed dissent against the war. Rather, the leader of the Russian Orthodox Church, Patriarch Kirill, has staunchly defended and blessed Russia’s military exploits.

So much about Russia’s aggression toward Ukraine has been heartbreaking—from the violence against civilians to the separation of families—but, for me, one of the most gut-wrenching aspects has been watching the response of the Russian Orthodox Church. In a denomination with over 40,000 full-time clerics, fewer than 300 priests and deacons have signed an open letter, which has been circulating since March, calling for peace and reconciliation. They represent not even one percent of Russian Orthodox clergy.

Where are the others?

Some are silent. Others are actively advancing and promoting a nationalistic agenda within their congregations. Some have painted Putin as a hero—even a saint—even though his actions are wildly out of step with the example of Jesus. The Russian Orthodox Church has lost the heart and soul of what it means to follow Jesus. They have failed to be salt and light, a moral voice, or a compass pointing their leaders and followers alike to true north. Religion has been conscripted by the State. This unholy alliance never seems to end well.

The Gospel of Matthew teaches, “No one can serve two masters.” There is no reading of Scripture in which allegiance to God is at the same level of allegiance to a nation. When Pilate wondered if Jesus had come to usurp political power, He responded, “My kingdom is not of this world.” Jesus was here to establish a Kingdom, not to overthrow an empire, and the goal for His followers remains the same.
The Russian Orthodox Church has subordinated its God-given calling to the whims of a political leader and a state’s agenda. The church has been used as a political pawn of their president rather than an agent of change representing their King. Its credibility has been lost.

Jesus taught His disciples to pray, “May your Kingdom come, may your will be done on earth as in heaven.” May God’s Kingdom reign over Russia—and may our first and highest allegiance always be to our King and His Kingdom, not empires.

What I’ve learned refereeing youth soccer

My daughters love playing soccer—and I love watching them. The fall colors in Pennsylvania. The sidelines full of cheering supporters. The Friday night under-the-lights matches. It is one of the absolute joys of my life in this season.

A few months ago, I heard from a friend that they were running short on referees, and unless more stepped up, they’d have to cancel games. Nationwide, an estimated 50,000 high school referees—roughly 20 percent—quit from 2018 to 2021. The nationwide shortage of officials had come to Pennsylvania and spilled over into the younger leagues as well.

As a former college soccer player, I felt reasonably qualified for the job. It seemed a good way to stay active in the game I love, serve fellow soccer families, and even get some exercise. Win-win-win!

But it didn’t take long to realize why refs are in short supply.

Refereeing is not for the faint of heart—and I have fully repented of my past actions, words, and grumbles directed at refs. My first game (an under-11 match-up), every call I made seemed to have 50% of the audience erupting in vehement disapproval. They openly questioned my ocular function and expressed concern for my intellect. Parents’ language was colorful enough to rival the fall foliage.

I love soccer, but our children are playing a game. In the grand scheme of life, the score seems relatively inconsequential compared to what our kids are learning about how to engage with others. How to respond when someone makes a call or decision that they don’t agree with.

I doubt we parents have consciously considered what we might be teaching in the way we interact from the sideline, but from the middle of the field, I can now see clearly that our children are soaking in lessons not only in dribbling and shooting but also in dealing with differences of opinion. In a few years, they likely won’t remember the score of the game or what disputed call I made, but I fear they will remember these “lessons” in conflict resolution.

A on civility found that 93 percent of Americans identified incivility as a problem. Sixty-eight percent would consider it a “major” problem, and 74% think it’s getting worse. Incivility is indeed a significant problem in our world today, but might this be one of those instances in which the solution to a big problem feels rather small and simple?

After one contentious game, a player was walking off the field and simply said, “Thanks, ref.” I doubt she (or her parents) agreed with all my calls, but she thanked me anyway. It wasn’t a grand gesture, but I’m convinced civility starts small: even with a thank-you from an 11-year-old.

If our kids grow up to be great athletes, that’s exciting. But if they grow up to be great human beings, that’s infinitely more consequential. And when we disagree, let’s all be a little kinder—to refs and to each other.

People, not pawns: Why staff aren’t our most valuable “assets”

This summer I had the joy of returning to Rwanda (with my daughter!) to celebrate Urwego’s 25th anniversary. Urwego is one of the oldest microfinance institutions in HOPE’s network—and where I served as executive director from 1999-2002.

The anniversary celebration brought together church partners, government officials, staff, and current and former Urwego loan recipients from across Rwanda. The joy of reconnecting reminded me of an overdue family reunion—and it erupted into an impromptu dance celebration.

https://www.peterkgreer.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/08/original-0FA4D7FE-C6A7-48CF-A567-74ADEE1F359B.mp4

While I am always struck by stories of significant life transformation among the families we serve, this trip I was also struck by the stories of long-term impact on staff members. They, too, evidenced transformation in each of the four domains HOPE targets: material, social, spiritual, and personal. I had time with Alice, who had never used a computer before joining Urwego as a loan officer. She now leads an entire department and is responsible for training and overseeing others. Jean Baptiste began as a security guard and has been promoted through the ranks to serve as manager of Urwego’s call center. Orren also began as a loan officer but now serves as an Urwego manager. He shared Fanta and the story of his last two decades working with Urwego. His employment has allowed him to purchase a house and a car and put his children through college. He invited me to visit his home—which he painted azure and navy blue to match the colors of Urwego Bank.

As leaders, we rightly spend significant time and effort assuring a positive impact on our end users—but I don’t want to be part of an organization that serves end users well but forgets the importance of also serving staff.

Staff members aren’t pawns to be used as a means to pursue a noble purpose. They aren’t valuable assets; they are valued. Urwego’s success over the past quarter-century can’t be captured fully in the investments in the dreams of over a half-million entrepreneurs served. Urwego’s success is reflected in the growth, development, and loyalty of its staff—and also in a home where blue walls stand as a silent tribute to the organization’s impact.

My deepest gratitude and most heartfelt congratulations to Urwego on 25 years of exemplary service—and to the faithful staff like Alice, Jean Baptiste, and Orren who have served for decades!

How a war in Ukraine leads to suffering in Haiti

We are all feeling the impact of increasing gas prices, which have climbed 27% since the Russian invasion of Ukraine on February 24.

It feels massively insensitive to complain about gas prices when thousands of lives have been lost. But I’ve come to realize that soaring gas prices have a sinister hidden impact that threatens perhaps hundreds of thousands more.

Rising fuel costs, as well as decreased corn and wheat production in Ukraine, are leading to global surges in the price of commodities. And while we are all noticing it, we know that some are being impacted by it far more than others. Within our own country, those hardest hit by rising food and gas prices are those least able to absorb the increase. Lower-income families spend a significantly higher percent of their wages on gas and groceries, as conveyed by this 2019 graphic charting food spending.

A recent USA Today article reported that while the average American family spends 10% of their income on food, poorer families pay closer to 30%. When prices surge, that percent rises precipitously, crowding out financial margin.

But it isn’t just wealthy countries where citizens are feeling the impact. As is often the case, this global disruption disproportionately hits the most vulnerable. Lesly Jules, HOPE’s regional director of savings group programs, shared that gas prices in Haiti have surged to $20/gallon. An island nation like Haiti depends heavily on imports—a 2020 report from the United Nations World Food Programme estimated that imports account for half of Haiti’s food and 83% of its rice. Rising fuel surcharges cause prices of every imported or transported good to spike.

What Russia does in Ukraine impacts families throughout the country—and around the world. In Haiti, Lesly fears “the hunger season” will return. In 2020, before the recent surge in prices, the United Nations World Food Programme, likened the cost of a single plate of food in Haiti (adjusted for percent of income consumed) to a New York resident paying $73.76 for a meal. That number is sure to increase, widening the gap between what is necessary for survival and what is affordable for most Haitians.

And this is not just the reality in Haiti—it’s a similar story in many other regions of the world where a significant portion of daily wages is spent on daily food.

For better or for worse, we’re connected. A war in Ukraine becomes a crisis not only in Ukraine but also in the poorest countries worldwide. That is part of our interconnectedness. But there is also an opportunity. Now more than ever, the global Church is aware of and awakened to pressing needs around the world. In recent weeks, I’ve seen many choosing to “weep with those who weep” (Romans 12:15), stepping into a crisis that is not their own to show compassion and God’s love to all who are suffering.

If rising gas and grocery prices are to you an inconvenience, not a burden, then I invite you to creatively reach out to your neighbors—locally or globally—who are in need. There are some who are once again entering into a precarious place of poverty; how can we walk together with them?

For better, for worse, we’re all connected.

Young and idealistic? Our world needs you.

For as long as I can remember, the words “young” and “idealistic” have gone together like “cap” and “gown.” Generations of young idealists with a new degree have set out to change the world, buoyed by the conviction that the world’s challenges should be addressed and that they should address them.

With graduation season in full swing, I’ve been reflecting on the unique contributions of recent graduates to our institutions, our workforce, and, more broadly, our world—and I count idealism among them. Unquestionably, HOPE’s culture changes for the better every summer when our interns and fellows arrive. Recent and soon-to-be graduates bring energy, enthusiasm, and fresh perspectives. Our world and our organizations desperately need people with high hopes and ideals. We need people who see what God created this world to be and courageously respond, believing it’s possible to make a positive impact.

There’s no doubt that I started as an idealist. While in college, I heard a talk by Muhammad Yunus about the power and potential of microfinance, and I envisioned being on the front lines of permanently eradicating poverty. I believed we could see extreme poverty eliminated in our world if everyone could simply access capital to launch and invest in small businesses.

But it turns out “simply” was the wrong word. After 25 years in this work, I’ve realized change is far more complex and difficult than I initially imagined.

Nonprofit organizations, churches, and the service sector are disproportionately full of idealists—but increasingly, they are full of cynics. Comedian George Carlin once quipped, “If you scratch any cynic, you find a disappointed idealist.” Hitting the difficulties of service, too often idealists grow up to be cynics.

As our culture increasingly celebrates cynicism and associates idealism with naivete or even willful ignorance, I fear cynicism is on the rise. And this is a loss.

We need the next generation to remind us of the potential to make a difference. To challenge the cynic and bring their enthusiasm and perspective. Sure, they too will discover soon enough that every organization falters and missteps and that it’s harder than we imagine to make a difference. But we need idealists to remind us that cynicism isn’t the solution. That change is possible and that God invites us to be a part of it. And that we have the responsibility to step out in faith and passionately work for change.

To young idealists who are starting their service this summer, I celebrate you and offer this benediction from Colossians 1:11-12 (MSG):

We pray that you’ll have the strength to stick it out over the long haul—not the grim strength of gritting your teeth but the glory-strength God gives. It is strength that endures the unendurable and spills over into joy, thanking the Father who makes us strong enough to take part in everything bright and beautiful that he has for us.

May you discover hope in the journey as you take the first steps into lives of long obedience and faithful service.

Peter’s latest book, The Gift of Disillusionment, explores the journey from idealism to enduring hope. Learn more and prepare yourself for a lifetime of faithful service at www.thegiftofdisillusionment.com.

 

A modern Dunkirk: Local churches in Ukraine offer rescue and respite

In 1940, Germany’s army was aggressively advancing across Europe. As nations surrendered, a group of Allied soldiers was pushed back to the French seaport of Dunkirk. Over 400,000 soldiers were trapped between the advancing German Army and the English Channel. Because of the shallow waters, large warships could not approach the beach to rescue the soldiers. It looked like a tremendous loss was inevitable.

Desperate, the British Navy requisitioned yachts, fishing vessels, and even motorized lifeboats to seek and save the stranded soldiers. Churchill and his advisers expected the operation to rescue 20,000-30,000 men. But the heroic actions of this motley fleet—which included civilians operating their own vessels—evacuated 338,000 troops. Each and every loss was felt and grieved, but the use of civilian boats saved the lives of hundreds of thousands who otherwise might have been lost.

Another war is now raging in Europe. More than two months after Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, the conflict continues. Ukrainian soldiers continue to fight valiantly, even as Russian troops continue to advance in the east and south.

From the beginning of this invasion, HOPE has been committed to supporting our staff, the men and women we serve in Ukraine, and as many others as possible. We have come alongside local churches who have been responding with food assistance, lodging, and transportation for refugees. A good friend commented that this response of our local church partners in Ukraine and surrounding nations has been like “a modern Dunkirk.”

As I’ve thought about his words, I think he is right. Churches may not be evacuating stranded soldiers, but amid crisis they are creatively and sacrificially repurposing their resources to serve those in greatest need. And God has uniquely positioned HOPE in this time to support and resource responding churches.

HOPE initiated its operations in Ukraine in 1997, providing small loans to 12 entrepreneurs who had ideas and initiative but lacked the resources to start or expand their own small businesses. In the years that followed, we grew. We opened branch offices across the country, just as a bank in the U.S. might have branches in many locations. We also initiated savings groups in Western Ukraine in Roma communities: helping marginalized men and women who would not have sought or qualified for a small loan but could benefit from a safe place to save and the opportunity to access a lump sum of capital. As we grew, we formed partnerships with like-minded organizations in neighboring Moldova and Romania. In all of these locations, we worked through local church partners to provide discipleship opportunities for the men and women we served. Many of these local church partners are the same ones now responding to the crisis in their communities.

HOPE is not a relief agency, but when Russia began attacking Ukraine in February, we knew that this network of local churches in Ukraine and the surrounding countries would respond, and we knew we wanted to help. We simply asked which church partners were responding and how we could support them. With a generous outpouring of support, we’ve been able to channel grant funding to these small-scale efforts: whether it’s a church preparing meals in their kitchen or individuals offering transportation to those fleeing violence. While larger aid agencies like the United Nations or International Committee of the Red Cross might draw attention—and opposition—from Russian forces, our efforts don’t look like Western aid. They look like neighbors helping neighbors, like followers of Jesus being His hands and feet in their communities.

An estimated 5 million Ukrainians now live abroad as refugees. An additional 7.1 million are internally displaced. We need the efforts of the United Nations, the International Committee of the Red Cross, and as many other agencies as can step forward in this time. But we also need something like Dunkirk: local churches and Christ-followers courageously responding with what they have. They may not make headlines, but they are there, offering respite and rescue.

For more information about HOPE’s response, please visit the Ukraine Assistance Fund. 

A cynic’s guide to finding hope

I met Dr. Jo Anne Lyon a few springs ago at Houghton College’s commencement. Now in her eighties, she exudes both an idealist’s enthusiasm and a seasoned leader’s grit. It’s an exceedingly rare combination. Her infectious joy and winsome invitation to the next generation of servant leaders inspired me to learn more—and the more I learned, the more I realized I had a lot to learn from Jo Anne about how to serve faithfully not just for years but for decades.

As I got to know Jo Anne, it became clear that she is not, in fact, an idealist. She’s a recovered cynic who practices the virtue of hope. As the daughter of church-planting pastors and the wife of a pastor, Jo Anne has had a tumultuous relationship with the Church. Her roles have offered an inside perspective on both the beauty and the brokenness of the institution.

Just weeks after planting a church in Kansas City in 1968, Jo Anne and her husband, Wayne, joined peaceful protests against racial inequality that were spreading across their city following the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Jo Anne was eager to invite and involve church members, but despite passionately proclaiming love of God and neighbor, their congregation and the denomination more broadly wanted no role in the work of justice.

In the church’s silence and inaction, Jo Anne perceived complicity. If this was the body of Christ, it had become paralyzed. Her disappointment in the Wesleyan Church—an institution she had loved—soon morphed into disdain. “I didn’t like to go to church, frankly, and I didn’t like the people.”

Jo Anne’s marriage grew strained as she made no secret of her distaste for her husband’s pastoral calling. She vividly recalls returning home from work one evening and hearing God prompt her to get her spiritual life in order. “Well, it will have to be in February because I have to get [the church’s] Christmas program together right now,” she snapped back.

Speaking into the Church’s hypocrisy from the firm ground of moral certitude, Jo Anne was unable to see the dangerous trajectory her own heart was taking. She had grown cynical toward the Church she
once loved.

Wayne often urged Jo Anne to read Catherine Marshall’s book Beyond Ourselves, but it wasn’t until she was hospitalized with a mysterious illness that Jo Anne finally accepted the invitation. When she came to a chapter on ego, the Holy Spirit convicted her. She repented of arrogance, pride, unforgiveness, and anger. And suddenly, for the first time in her life, she became hungry for God. “I wanted God more than anything else in this world,” she recalls. Her pain resolved as mysteriously as it had originated, and she was released from the hospital.

Later that week, Wayne was traveling, so he asked Jo Anne to lead a prayer meeting at the church. She hungered for God, but she still had no desire to be involved with the Church. But when no one else volunteered, Jo Anne begrudgingly agreed. During the prayer meeting, the Holy Spirit came over Jo Anne powerfully. She began confessing to the people in the prayer meeting her reactions toward the Church, toward them. “As I confessed, suddenly, I was so filled with love for people that night that I could not contain myself. . . . I had love for those people I could not will myself to love—and that changed the course of my life entirely.”

Jo Anne felt God’s love uprooting cynicism in her own life. This awakening came with the realization that she had been looking for hope in the Church rather than in God.

Her misplaced hope resonates. When we encounter church leaders obsessed with political ideologies or abusing their power or practicing all flavors of hypocrisy, we’re ready to join Jo Anne in writing off the Church. When the next scandal makes headlines, we feel our hope eroding. We feel a sense of personal superiority bubbling up within us, our anger seeding our growing cynicism.

In a paradoxical way, cynicism appears to be the plague of what others are or are not doing. But at its core, cynicism is a byproduct of pride. It is a disbelief that positive change is possible based on our assessment of our own strength to enact that positive change.

Jo Anne began to recognize that the Church is not immune from the brokenness of our world. It can be a place where sinners find grace and peace, but it can also be a place where followers become wounded and disillusioned and faith falters. Many see the shortcomings of the Church and give up not only on church but on faith altogether. Many conflate God and the institution.

Yet God grieves when the Church is complacent, when politics matter more than people, when the priorities of the Church blatantly disregard the priorities of the One they seek to represent. The Church’s failures and shortcomings undoubtedly breed cynicism, yet the Church was never intended to be the ultimate source of our hope.

Like the prophet Jeremiah, Jo Anne refused to succumb to cynicism and instead said, “We set our hope on you” (Jeremiah 14:22b ESV). Those who hope in the Church will grow disillusioned and eventually cynical, but “those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength” (Isaiah 40:31a NIV). She went on to serve faithfully for decades, both in the Church and in the nonprofit sector as founder of World Hope International and ambassador of The Wesleyan Church.

Jo Anne believes that just as the turbulence in the 1960s eventually gave way to the Jesus Movement in the 1970s, there is a movement in store for the Church today as hearts turn to Christ and to the mission Christ gave us. Although many view this as a dark and difficult season, Jo Anne believes it is a moment not for cynicism but for hope. A moment to recapture a faith that is inextricably linked to action. A moment not to pull back or to give up but to look upward to the One who sustains our hope.

Jo Anne’s story is adapted from The Gift of Disillusionment. For more on rekindling faint or forgotten hope and leading with enduring hope, order now.

Photo courtesy of Houghton College.