I’ve never had more fun talking about something so serious.

We sat on stools arranged in a semi-circle, microphones clipped to our shirts, lights in our eyes, and talked for four hours about poverty, Compassion International and how to speak about both.  Ken Davis, the moderator of this discussion caught on film, would ask a simple question and then we’d take off.  Everyone had a story to tell, raw, sometimes humiliating, humorous, tear jerking, always worth hearing.  Everyone had a joke to make at someone else’s expense.  And of course everyone had a little wisdom to share too.

We were trying to make a video that will train other artists and speakers on how to communicate about poverty and Compassion International better.  But I think we might just have accidentally done one better.  We might have just made a video that teaches something more valuable: Be human.  And there’s joy in compassionate living.

Be human: Don’t spend the whole concert climbing speaker clusters and joking with the audience and then, when it’s time to speak about Compassion, morph into Sally Struthers.  Be yourself.  Talk about your trip to the third world and the theology behind why you support Compassion, sure, but don’t be afraid to cry, fail or laugh too. I, for instance, have pointed out from the stage before that I met a child in the third world who not only had shoes, socks, pants and a shirt now that he’s sponsored through Compassion but that he’s also very proud of his new Spiderman underwear.  Sally Struthers wouldn’t say that and another artist might not either but I do: it’s a memory, the thrill of new underwear to an impoverished child, and it’s very me to point it out.

And messing up isn’t the end of the world – don’t pretend it didn’t just happen. When you don’t know what to say, say you don’t know what to say.  If you need to cry, cry.  If you don’t know what you’re doing, confess that too.  I’ve learned (and keep learning) that what I consider a mistake, an awkward moment, is endearing and actually engaging to an audience that’s marketed to everywhere they go – even (especially) in church.  Being fully human on stage keeps my words about Compassion from sounding like a commercial and makes me more believable, not less.  It’s weird but true.  And, most importantly, our humanity doesn’t make us less useful to or loved by God.  Screwing up and not only surviving but seeing God do his thing in spite of me is powerful medicine for the perfectionist and people pleaser in me.

There’s joy in compassionate living: You know what joy in the bible often is?  It’s security that comes from confidence in God.  You know God has brought you this far, that he’s with you now, that he’s got a plan for tomorrow too and he’s so real and you’re so certain of it that you’re not angry, not worried, not pushy, not self-absorbed or scared.  And while joy is not ha ha happiness and grins, it is a state of being that brings ha ha happiness and grins within closer reach of your psyche.  Laughter is nearer the surface.  Smiles take less effort.  Nothing I’ve found cultivates my own joy better than serving and speaking up for the poor. 

The poor are joyful, more so than the rich.  Don’t argue with me on this until you’ve been to church in Africa and then worshipped in an upper class sanctuary here in America.  As one Ethiopian explained to me, a man who can pull out a credit card and buy all the daily bread he wants depends less upon God than the poor man who must pray for his constantly.  There’s no denying that there is a correlation between our awareness of our need and our dependence upon God we call joy.  Poverty’s joy is catchy, transforming for me because it reminds me of my own dependence upon God. It makes me grateful for that credit card in my wallet and aware that it is a gift from God – lest I lose my joy to the illusion of self-sufficiency.  That dependence and joy is such a complete change in perspective that it is impossible for me to be consistently angsty or down anymore.  I have my moments and sometimes they are dug in deep and hard to shake, but they are fewer and fewer and they grip me less and less tightly.

This group of artists and speakers oozed joy and humanity.  There was so much laughter and tears and there were many stories of awkward speeches and full-on mistakes and struggles that I really wondered at times if we were sabotaging the video shoot.  But I hope that our humanity and fun sends a life-altering message to those who watch: Be human.  And there’s joy in compassionate living.