No logo
Most acts of kindness do not come with a logo.
This struck me while leaving my house recently. On the driveway I bumped into a former colleague who was now running a befriending scheme. As (many years ago) I used to do this role myself for another charity my ears pricked up. She had received a referral for my neighbour, Beverley.
Beverley has been housebound for three years now and, apart from receiving visits from paid carers, has little social contact. Prior to the pandemic I had been dropping in for coffee, doing the occasional bit of shopping and lending a listening ear.
This small interaction with the scheme manager in the driveway made me realise how suddenly drawn I was to formalise these small acts of kindness and to bring it under a banner of ‘volunteering’.
When it comes to acts of mercy, I’ll be honest: I enjoy a routine, a logo and a bit of recognition for giving my time. None of these things are wrong, and charities like Linking Lives depend on committed volunteers willing to go through a DBS check, complete some training and give weekly feedback.
But the irony of it is that I remember from when I ran a befriending scheme that the ultimate aim of organisations like Linking Lives is that these people be connected to a community that provides long-term meaningful connection.
My colleague would have been the first to say that that volunteers are often plugging a gap left by neighbours, families and the wider community.
The theme of our Churches that Change Communities conference this November is ‘Moving Beyond Projects’, in other words ensuring that we are raising disciples whose public and private lives are saturated with a concern for - and motivation to reach out to - the marginalised.
It’s easy to demarcate our time, allowing for acts of mercy on a Tuesday morning or a Thursday afternoon. The greater challenge is to be transformed by a renewing of our minds, to live with the changed heart that Christ has purchased for us.
That’s why we’ll be spending time in November thinking about how to shape the disciple-making cultures in our churches, and to ensure that concern for the poor marks the life of each believer.
It starts with me. My interaction on the driveway that day has challenged me again to embrace the quiet, sometimes inconvenient small acts of kindness that are supposed to mark our days. Even when they don’t come with a logo.
