BY AARON CARR AoP ’12, MDIV STUDENT, CANDLER SCHOOL OF THEOLOGY
Now the Berean Jews were of more noble character than those in Thessalonica, for they received the message with great eagerness and examined the Scriptures every day to see if what Paul said was true. Acts 17:11 NIV
I have to confess that I am deeply uncomfortable with the word “entrepreneur.” A few negative run-ins with business majors while in college – coupled with a deep sympathy for the Marxist critique of the whole Capitalist enterprise – has apparently resulted in rather ambiguous feelings about those business people who call themselves entrepreneurs.
So when I was asked us to write about “being an entrepreneur in ministry,” I didn’t know how to respond. It was obvious from the initial prompt that we were supposed to focus more on the pluck, determination, and imagination of an entrepreneur than on his or her specific role as a business person with an idea to pitch and a bottom line to meet. But it is difficult for me to divorce the charismatic connection-maker from the [business person].
Still, I was determined to stick to the theme, and to be only mildly critical of it, so I began looking for alternative kinds of entrepreneurs, people who weren’t interested in large profit margins but were still plucky, determined, and imaginative. The solution to my dilemma, it turns out, had been right under my nose the entire time.
In October, I recently began attending Berea Mennonite Church, a small Anabaptist congregation near the heart of East Atlanta. If the word “pluck” has ever been properly used in the history of the English language, it is when referring to this congregation. Over the past two decades – with plenty of entrepreneurial spirit – Berea has cobbled together a 9-acre farm, a significant piece of land that allows the congregation to live into an alternative economy.
For example, the congregation just asked my fiancé Leanna to come on board as their worship leader. Instead of providing her with a nice salary and an office, they offered her a place to live in the church’s basement apartment suite. When she gets up in the morning, she takes care of the farm’s chickens, and takes a few eggs back for her morning omelette. Or she can spend her afternoon working with the farmer and then use some of that produce in the evening meal. The church supports the farm, the farm supports Leanna, and Leanna supports the church. Instead of relying on the transfer of currency, Berea focuses on a different way of living, one that emphasizes abundance over scarcity and insists on a connection to the land.
But even when money does change hands, it does so in a different way. This summer, Berea will host a series of farm camps that will focus not only on the importance of sustainable food, but will also teach peace skills to the campers. The modest fee collected from the campers who can pay it will be immediately turned around in the form of scholarships for those kids who would otherwise be unable to attend. Instead of focusing on making a profit and then investing those profits to produce an even great profit, Berea is choosing to use its money to impact the real flourishing of human lives all around the neighborhood.
And all this talk of farming reminds of a time when Jesus spoke about a farmer. This man went out to sow his seed, but only some of it landed on the good soil. The rest of it was eaten by birds, choked by weeds, or failed to grow in rocky soil. Any way you interpret it, it seems that 25% is the success rate in the Kingdom of God, though that initial 25% goes on to produce a much greater crop.
What the parable is trying to communicate is the message that Berea is carefully attempting to live into: the Kingdom of God operates on different economic principles than the U.S.A. The parable of the sower seems utterly foolish to a “normal” farmer, just as Leanna’s living situation (which builds no home equity) or the situation at the peace camps (which produces no profit for the church) might seem foolish to those entrepreneurs who are concerned with the activity of every dollar.
Thus, if we are called to be entrepreneurs, we are called to do so within the economy of the Kingdom of God, not the kingdom of the world. We must be imaginative and creative and plucky and charismatic, but we must also embrace the lavish and foolish abundance that Jesus modeled for his followers. We must live into a different economy, one that is unconcerned with stock options and dividends but cares deeply about human beings and their flourishing on this earth. If we can be those kinds of entrepreneurs, then I might just be willing to leave all my hang-ups behind.