by Eddie Pipkin
I wrote last week about my recent trip to Costa Rica. It’s the rainy season in Central America, so we saw rain every day we were there. We were prepared; we had rain gear, so afternoon deluges didn’t slow us down. They don’t slow the locals down either. One of the main reasons this is true is the creative engineering which constantly channels the water in useful directions. Although Costa Rica is not a rich country with big-budget infrastructure – the roads, for instance, are a mixed bag that guarantees adventure – torrential volumes of water don’t impede daily life, because the locals’ basic construction is tailor-made to deal with the facts of the weather. It’s a great example of making the main thing the main thing and paying attention to what matters most.
It rains a lot in Costa Rica, an average of 100 inches of annual rainfall for the country as a whole, but in the southern Pacific coast region, it can routinely be 200 inches! All that water has to go somewhere, and there are a stunning number of creeks, rivers, and showstopping waterfalls moving that rainfall to the sea. The constant presence of moving water is an inescapable fact of life and the hydrological essence of essence that fuels the multitudinous flora and fauna which define the region.
You’d think every step you took outside and every mile you drove would be a mud-slogging quagmire, but they are not. The residents, laid back and easygoing in national demeanor, don’t mess around when it comes to drains, downspouts, culverts, spillways, and ditches. Water has a place to go! Always! One of the things that is counter-intuitive when travelling in those parts is that you arrive expecting to be inundated by mosquitoes, then are surprised that the hordes of mosquitos never materialize. This is because there is hardly any flat terrain (thus depriving the insects of the standing water they need to procreate and thrive): the country is all hills and mountains all the time, slopes of varying degrees of steepness, and the water follows its gravitational imperative to go down to the sea as rapidly as possible. The locals are happy to oblige. The roads in many areas can be basic, but the path of the water streaming from them is never ignored; it is always given the proper respect and outlet.
Everywhere I look, I see the natural world reflecting truths of ministry.
Gutters are no exception!
They are an excellent example of how we might deal with practical issues methodically and with purpose. There’s no denying it, trying to explain it away, ignoring it, blaming others, waiting for someone else to take responsibility, or waiting for a change in the weather (pardon that horrendous pun). They analyze the flowing water; they deal with it. They learn to live with it.
They use ancient wisdom and new techniques. They leverage the resources they have. They get everybody involved. They get it solved the best way possible; and when it overwhelms the available resources, they accept it that as an occasional inevitability, too, acknowledging that sometimes they’ll have to patiently wait it out, and they are always rebuilding and regrouping towards a stronger outcome for the next time.
If that’s not a great lesson for ministry – well, honestly, for living life – I don’t know what is.
Visualize any common ministry problem – let’s take congregational communication for instance – and think about what an apt metaphor Costa Rica’s bounty of rain is for how we approach ministry problems. As ministry leaders, we regularly lament the congregation members’ statements that they didn’t know what was happening (or when it was happening or why it was happening or how to sign up or that they even needed to sign up or how much it cost, etc.) despite the fact that we have sent 12 emails, made 32 social media posts, delivered one physical letter, and made seven in-worship announcements about the event. How do we respond to that frustration during our next post-event meeting?
- We deny there’s a problem. (“That went great. We couldn’t have handled anymore people anyway! That low turnout meant we had time to focus more on the individuals who came!”)
- We explain away the problem. (“It’s not that the communication was lacking, it’s all the other activities vying for people’s attention.”)
- We ignore the problem. (“You can’t count on people. What’re you going to do?”)
- We blame the problem on others. (“It’s not our fault people don’t know what’s going on. They need to take responsibility for staying informed.”)
- We wait for someone else to take responsibility. (“We need to hire a professional communications person for our staff. We won’t ever solve this problem until we’re it’s part of someone’s job description.”)
- We wait for a change in the weather. (“If God wanted more people to participate in this event, He’d speak to their hearts.”)
It’s comical to imagine Costa Ricans taking this approach as the predictable annual rainy season unleashes its floods: “Eh, what’re you gonna do? It’s rain.” Or “If God didn’t want us to be mired in the mud, He’d give us more sunny days. It’s just the way it is.”
Instead, they have accepted the challenge. It’s kind of amazing, in fact, to experience roads that would not generally be up to American expectations bordered by drainage gutters that surpass the ones provided in most American neighborhoods, particularly in that they are designed to move volumes of flow that regularly overwhelm American streets (I’m thinking of my own suburban neighborhood in this case). The design genius of the Costa Ricans takes advantage of the available cost-effective materials and simple, repeatable low-tech approaches. A lot of basically formed concrete and a lot of hand—placed stones.
It’s a great example of the way in which money can go a long way using basic resources and local expertise if you don’t try to get too fancy. Too often in the pursuit of ministry solutions, from worship design to discipleship, we get dazzled by fancy or complicated options when a straightforward simple approach will do.
We also lose sight of getting the basics right in our quest to do things that are more attention-getting or that will make a bigger splash. Those splashy, attention-provoking efforts can leave an impression for a while, but if the basics have been neglected, they will eventually be overwhelmed by ever-present realities.
- How do we train people to be faithful disciples?
- How do we build the expectation that people will regularly serve?
- How do we recruit the volunteers needed to get things done?
- How do we engage people online?
- How do we share life-changing worship?
- How do build small groups that last?
- How do we inspire people to find the joy in giving sacrificially?
There are fancy, complex ways to pursue each of these goals, and such an approach may be what best fits your church in your context. But it’s really all about the ministry engineering basics, about making the best use of the resources we have and being creative and humble in our approach. It’s about understanding the fundamentals of what really matters and taking care of those fundamentals before we build some more elaborate options atop their carefully executed foundation.
In the end, yes, it is still possible to get your car stuck in the muck in Costa Rica. Yes, your shoes will routinely be muddy as you walk from destination to destination. The rain comes with complications, it’s true. But all in all, it’s a wonder how they’ve engineered their way to a working relationship with their most abundant resource.
How is your attitude towards common problem engineering? Do you and your team honestly assess what the basic, ongoing challenges are and address them with diligence, enthusiasm, creativity, and realistic expectations? What have you learned about acknowledging your unique circumstances and embracing them as a worthy and beneficial challenges? What do you do when the rain keeps coming?!?
Share your stories in the comments section. Floods of comments welcomed.
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