by Steve Garber
Director, The Washington Institute
Why is it that some people see themselves as implicated in the way the world is, and isn't? in the way things are, and ought to be? There is nothing in the record deal signed by the Jars of Clay that requires them to care about the complexities of Africa, particularly about the structural problems that are horribly difficult and so very long-term. There are no cheap fixes. Only deep commitment, a sense of responsibility marked by love, will do.
A snowy, wintry day, still Christmas, with trees and carols and a blazing fireplace-and these words, again and again: "It was outrageous!"
We had welcomed our good friend Clydette Powell home after several months of traveling on behalf of the United States Agency for International Development (USAID), tasked with reporting on the impact of drought and famine on disease in southern Africa. A physician with a long history in public health in this country and around the world, her principal assignment was oversight of the tuberculosis programs for USAID. A thoughtful, committed, and passionate woman, her summary judgment-"It was outrageous!" -was shocking, if not completely surprising. And her words haunted me for days.
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 Jars of Clay's Dan Haseltine on the Nashville DATA Summit
Jars of Clay's Dan Haseltine talks about their involvement with African issues and his experiences at the Nashville DATA summit
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'So Much to Sing About'
A trip to Africa produces a holy shake-up, and a new tune, for Jars of Clay by Kate Bowman Johnston
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On a [Blood:Water] Mission
"When we met, Jars basically told me, ‘We're artists. We're passionate, but we don't have the time and ability to do much more than this.' They had thought a lot about their vision for clean blood and clean water," Lee remembers.
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I have no sense of exactly when I first became aware that deep within my soul, or more precise, deep within my gut, an ache and a restlessness, a physical response to things not right in the world, had grown.I had a revelation that once I was just an innocent bystander but I had been chosen to become owner or steward of pain and suffering that I only just observed in the lives of other people...
Read Dan's Story >
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Somehow, I grew up with this notion that our lives are compartmentalized- that there are times for celebration, times to mourn, times to be quiet, and maybe a little time to be boisterous. Call it an Ecclesiastical view of life...And I think, like most teenagers, my world was pretty small and self-centered. My faith didn't really permeate each aspect of my life...
Read Charlie's Story >
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Later that week I was speaking at a Veritas Forum, taking my place alongside Tony Campolo and the Jars of Clay. They were the first and third nights of the Forum, and I was the in-between person. Together we were asked to address the college's student body in speech and song about the truth of the Christian vision of life and learning.
I began my lecture remembering the afternoon with Clydette, especially her words: "It was outrageous!" And then went on to look at how very difficult it is to really know the world, and still love it. More often than not we find ways to disengage, either compartmentalizing our faith from life or becoming cynical about the meaning of faith in relation to life. For a thousand reasons it seems too hard to know and to love, to really understand the character of the brokenness of the world, and then to choose to enter into it. Yeah, but I know.... I used to be naïve too, thinking something could be done.... But life isn't like that, it's too much too messy....And nobody really believes that anyway.
Afterwards I spoke to a number of students, listening to their cares and questions, all the while noticing a group of guys standing nearby. Little did I know that I was soon going to enter into a relationship that would engage me in a much wider world.
What I found in these men who call themselves the Jars of Clay was a surprise, which candidly, says more about me than it does about them. I just didn't know much about their music. Yes, I knew when they first emerged as a national phenomenon, with articles in USA Today and appearances with David Letterman. What a strange story it was! A group of musicians who loved God and the world at the same time, who were trying very, very hard to be faithful to their own deepest convictions about God, human nature, and history, but to do so in a way that the world could hear. But beyond that, I had not followed them very carefully.
The next week I got an email, asking me, "What could we read?" It was not a surprise, given what I had seen and heard the previous week. My major impression of that evening was that I had been drawn into the company of a group of intellectually eager young men, guys who had good questions about ideas and issues that matter.
Over the next months we saw each other several times, and as we talked I learned more about their passions, about their commitments and cares. Their families mattered. Their music mattered. And Africa mattered. They began talking about a vision to use their influence for good in the world, their platform as a multi-Grammy winning band to address the needs of Africa. Slowly, the vision came into being as the Blood:Water Mission.
That spring I drove several hours from Washington, through the glory of the Blue Ridge on a beautiful April day, joining them for a pre-concert event. They were going to speak to university students about their vision, and they wanted me to say something too.
I remember thinking, seeing the setting, watching the band and the students, "There is nothing in the record deal that requires that these guys care about Africa." The tour bus outside, the catered meal inside, the crowd gathering for the evening show-and we were talking about the sorrows of Africa.
That evening grew into several conversations over the next few months, in different cities with different concerts. The Blood:Water Mission was being birthed.
On a summer day we met in Washington at Evermay, the historic Georgetown home, for an afternoon, talking with a handful of my friends who represented the worlds of human rights, international medicine, politics, business, and development. I asked the band to tell about their vision, and my friends to explain their passions and skills. My hope? That some fires might be lit, some relationships developed that could help them do what they wanted to do.
Several months later I had a call from them on their bus. My memory is that they were on their way up the West Coast, with concerts from Phoenix to Seattle. They needed help, in particular someone to come alongside them in their passion for Africa, someone able to give organizational life to the vision.
A few weeks earlier I had been in Phoenix, speaking at a conference, "The Faces of Justice," and had met a young woman from Whitworth College in Spokane, WA. She had been invited to join in with her professors as they gave a presentation at the conference. I had been impressed with her vision, experience, and commitment: unusually articulate, unusually passionate, with Africa on her heart. And she loved the music of the Jars of Clay.
The band had a concert at Whitworth, and it was not too many days later that they met Jena Lee. And several months later she began making plans to move to Nashville to join them, bringing her administrative skills to the job of forming an organization that could address the complexity of clean water and clean blood in Africa.
But trying to do a good thing is hard, very hard. Nothing less than honest blood, sweat, and tears.
A year ago I flew to Nashville for two days of meetings with a group of kindred spirits who were gathering around the vision of the Blood:Water Mission; we were the beginnings of a board. The first day had its strains. The second day was wearisome. I got onto the plane worn out, wondering if we were going to be able to do it.
By great grace, Jena and the band pushed through those winter days, making choices and plans that brought more clarity and reality to the hope and dream. And then a few months later I got a call from one member of the band telling me that they were in the middle of a day-long fundraiser for the 1000 Wells Project, a first-fruit of the larger vision of the Blood:Water Mission. Hundreds of radio stations across the country were participating, and thousands of fans were responding. He was excited that a lot of money had been pledged. Before the day was done I had heard from others that some $300,000 was promised. We were all astounded.
The story is a longer one, but almost a year later, nearly $1,000,000 has been given to the Blood:Water Mission to take up the work they have made their own. Where has it come from? Concert after concert with gifts and promises of dollars for the 1000 Wells, and meetings with a corporation like Coca-Cola-which has its own interest in clean water -has produced scores of thousands of dollars. Taking part in the Live8 concert in Philadelphia brought national attention to the band's commitment, showing them to be musicians with more than a one-day-in-the-summer interest in the issues; as the ONE campaign and DATA folks noticed, the Jars of Clay really knew what they were talking about, and were already deeply involved in addressing the problem.
Has anything changed in Africa? A year after my weary return from Nashville, not sure at all that anything good would happen, 70,000 Africans now have access to clean water through the work of the Blood:Water Mission. And much more work is being planned, on both the blood and water sides of the mission.
Outrageous? Yes, it still is. The problems of Africa, like of any continent, are incredibly complex. But Clydette was part of that day at Evermay, and now she has joined up with the Blood:Water Mission as a board member, purposefully to address the harsh, painful reality of what she saw. She brings years of expertise in global public health care, adding substantial weight to board conversations about what can and ought to be done.
It is hard to care, always and everywhere. And yet doing so is at the very heart of vocations that are shaped by the gospel of the kingdom. Those who are formed by that vision develop eyes to see and ears to hear. They learn to love what God loves, to feel what God feels. That is true of physicians... just as it is true of musicians-even and especially when the record deal doesn't require it.
Design: The Washington Institute
Photos courtesy of Blood:Water Mission
