The call came at 7 p.m.
“Can you and your son help us move our swing set? We’re going to put in a pool.”
“Of course we’ll help.”
Scott and I quickly finished dinner, found our work gloves, and crossed the street to join a small group of neighbors ready to lift the heavy wooden structure to make way for an underground pool. All agreed that the only thing better than a pool is a neighbor with a pool.
We received clear instructions on where to grab hold of the heavy wood, where to carry the heavy swing set, and where to expect the heaviest challenges. Did I mention that this was heavy lifting?
But we didn’t care. Bryce, my neighbor and most popular person on the block for installing a pool, prepared us well. The task took only a few moments to explain, and the actual lift took less than two minutes. Two hard minutes.
But we didn’t care. Why? Because Bryce told us specifically what he wanted us to do and how to do it. He also predicted the heaviness. Yet, while we strained under the weight, every neighbor focused on the glory days ahead of laughing and splashing in Bryce’s pool. He even (wisely) scheduled the first pool party date. At that point, we would have lifted his house had he asked!
The picture of us saying “1-2-3 lift” made me think of a seen straight from the Bible. In Joshua 3, Joshua calls together the priests to lift the ark. He gives them instructions on where to carry it—into the seasonally swollen, rushing Jordan River. They lift the ark and start walking, fueled by the promise of glory days ahead. But that’s where the parallels with our backyard experience stop.
We were no collection of priests. The load we carried had no extreme value. We stayed on dry land. No miracle took place. God did not give us our instructions. Bryce did.
And I admit it—when Bryce told us we had to move his swing set up a steep hill in his backyard, I paused. When he said to continue carrying it around the house, I winced. Had he instructed us to pick it up and step into the nearby river to see what happens, I would have panicked, faked a back spasm, or just dropped it and run home.
But certain similarities exist that we can carry into ministry. Joshua’s team and Bryce’s team lifted significant weight at the request of a leader. All necessary and valuable details of the assignment were shared prior to the work. And the leader wisely shared with the team the big picture of what would happen as a result of their labor.
Translation: A new ministry season will start soon, and you likely need to find help. Yes, you can find people to help you carry the weight of your ministry, no matter how heavy the load. Just call and ask over a cup of coffee. When you do, share with potential volunteers the big picture of what their contribution will mean—especially to them personally. Share a vision of the glory days ahead when kids’ lives change; a clear, concise story will work best. And when these servants arrive to help, provide as many specific instructions as you can; what to do, how to do it, what challenges to expect, and what will happen as a result.
Many ministry leaders want their pastor or church bulletin to do the asking. Others rely on guilt to bring unwilling parents to help. These might yield short term help. However, do you want heavy lifters who last? Provide substantial vision, tangible motivation, and specific training—three key building blocks for strong volunteers willing to carry serious weight.
Volunteers who can see the glory days ahead will carry a surprisingly heavy load into the water or up a hill. And when it happens, when you enjoy a year where the weight seemed spread out more than normal, give God the credit for moving volunteers’ hearts to action. Project a date now for when you’ll celebrate what God will do in this coming ministry year. Maybe plan a pool party.
I’ll give you Bryce’s number.
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David Staal, senior editor of Today’s Children’s Ministry, serves as the president of Kids Hope USA, a national non-profit organization that partners local churches with elementary schools to provide mentors for at-risk students. Prior to this assignment, David led Promiseland, the children’s ministry at Willow Creek Community Church in Barrington, Illinois. David is the author of Words Kids Need to Hear (2008) and lives in Grand Haven, MI, with his wife Becky, son Scott, and daughter Erin. Interested in David speaking at your event? Click here
©2009, David Staal
