Mikestrathdee’s Blog


Why should I give to your church?

Published in Canadian Mennonite, March 2015

Helping people give money away over the past 15 years has been a tremendously rewarding part of my work at Mennonite Foundation of Canada.

Many of these generous people are from the “builder generation” (born in or before 1945). The builders I’ve spoken with give generously, value church institutions and trust the people who run them.

Being told there is a need opens their wallets or cheque books. As these people age, become infirm and pass away, I miss their generous spirits. Increasingly, many churches, church agencies and related institutions are starting to feel the same sense of loss. That loss will intensify from dull ache to stabbing pain in coming years for those who don’t overhaul their approach and communication with donors.

Many in my generation and most in younger cohorts don’t see things the same way as their church-attending parents and grandparents did. This is true even of the much smaller fraction of boomers and millennials who still attend church more frequently than Christmas and Easter.

Given this clear dichotomy in how different generations respond, it is sad to see people making appeals based on guilt and obligation near the end of a church’s financial year. That doesn’t work anymore. It reminds me of the father recounting to his young daughter how his family had purchased their first colour TV when he was 10 years old. After some reflection, the daughter replied: “Daddy, was the whole world black and white then?”

Leave it to Beaver-era appeals don’t work in the digital age. Loyalty to church institutions is a foreign concept to a sizeable group of church attenders. Without new, compelling and repeated calls to commitment, the idea of supporting a congregation’s ministry is easily overlooked or dismissed.

J. Clif Christopher, in his book Rich Church, Poor Church, says he finds “far too many church leaders who are working on the answer to the question, ‘Why should I give?’ and not on the right question for today, which is, ‘Why should I give to you?’”

Younger donors who are asking the latter question don’t want to hear about commitments made at a budget meeting they didn’t attend. They want to give to vision, to relationships. They want to hear about outcomes and changed lives.

As the number of charities competing for donor attention continues to multiply—and Sunday morning once in a while is the extent of many people’s exposure to church—a congregation that wants to succeed in growing givers’ hearts needs to have a compelling answer to Christopher’s question: “Is my church the best place for me to invest to make a difference and change lives?”

Getting positive responses to that question will require leaders willing to move beyond traditional approaches. As Christopher says, “Being taught to give is as integral to the mature Christian life as learning how to read is to the adult life.”

Do we care enough about church to use proven stewardship best practices, even if they make us uncomfortable?



Garlic, and remembering Dad
August 20, 2014, 3:17 pm
Filed under: gardening, Generosity, Tributes | Tags: , , , , ,

This summer’s garlic harvest was bittersweet, for several reasons. I picked a poor spot

to plant it in last November, too dry due to a nearby maple tree.

That error yielded a series of undersized bulbs in August. And for the first time, I can’t compare

harvests with the man who passed on his love of allium sativa to me.

Dad died last September, weeks after digging up his final haul of large, fragrant bulbs. There

were 500 bulbs, give or take, enough for a small village, more than ample to supply many family,

friends and neighbors plus his daily intake. It was an extravagant supply, in keeping with the massive

harvests of potatoes, carrots and in his final years, kale that he planted in an oversized small town

garden larger than many city lots. Had he been so inclined, Dad could have run a stand at the local

farmer’s market with his surplus produce.

As a gift to people who came to his funeral, my brother Al, sister-in-law Gloria and other members of

their family prepared 300 bulbs, each prettied up with a length of ribbon that had attached a small card

with Dad’s picture and the phrase “a gift from Grandpa Jim’s garden” on one side. Instructions for late

fall planting were written on the other side of the card.

Some people said they would use it for lasagna that night, others said they would follow the

instructions and do their first ever planting late in the fall, thanks to “The Garlic Man.”

Appropriately, the variety Dad favored was an Ontario breed named “Music,” completely suitable for

a man whose other great love was picking and grinning.

Like Dad’s over-sized love for his garden, raising rabbits and making music, Music garlic at its best

is elephantine in scale, with little resemblance to the shriveled foreign garlic that many make do

with from grocery stores for much of the year. When planted around rose bushes, it proves most

effective in keeping bugs away. The taste cannot be equaled either.

Native to Asia and cultivated for over 6,000 years, garlic is commonly eaten around the world. While

there are 70 different strains of garlic in the estimated 2500 acres that commercially planted in Ontario,

Music is said to make up about 90 per cent of the total. But price conscious Canadians import over two

thirds of their garlic from China. Dad had little use for store bought Asian garlic, saying it was of little

value on the rare occasions he was forced to substitute.

Dad made a point of downing at least a large clove a day, often raw, sometimes in his breakfast juice,

first thing in the morning, much to the chagrin of some health care professionals who literally couldn’t

stomach the smell. My guess is that most years he consumed three or four times as much as the

2.3 pounds reportedly eaten annually by the average North American.

Many a full head of garlic made its way into clay bakers at our house, oven roasted and later spread on

fresh-baked bread for a delectable dinner treat thanks to Dad’s never-ending supplies. It is important to

exercise caution when indulging in this treat however. We once had dinner guests who were newcomers

to Canada and unfamiliar with garlic’s charms. The two heads we had baked as a side dish for the meal

sat largely untouched until a family member decided to go for it and consume the lot.

Reminders of that meal oozed through the diner’s pores for several days, an aroma that is not to

everyone’s liking.

Trying to locate Dad near his garden on weekends between mid-April and October was generally a

futile exercise. Most often, he had loaded up his trailer, grabbed his beloved Martin guitar and headed

off across southern Ontario with his girlfriend Joan to a steam show, fiddle competition or some other

rural gathering of the country music and bluegrass “gypsies” that were his tribe. Like him, most were

retired folk who loved nothing better than a weekend camping, playing, singing and telling stories,

some of which were possibly even true. He died on a Friday evening at one of these gatherings,

succumbing to a heart attack shortly after singing a few numbers in a friend’s barn and

wandering off to his trailer with promises to see everyone later.

Fitting then, that acoustic music played a large part in his funeral celebration. A trio of fiddlers,

including a granddaughter, cranked out “Maple Sugar”, “Devil’s Dream” and other jigs and reels while

over three hundred mourners took their seats in the St. Marys United Church for the service.

Five of his grandchildren sang or played during the tribute, and a long-time musical friend from

Hanover played some Hank Williams hurting music as the family followed the casket out of the church

an hour or so later. At the rural cemetery outside the hamlet of Avonbank, where his parents had been

laid to rest over 50 years earlier, the musicians started up again once the pastor had finished the

committal service. Strains of “Til We Meet Again”, then “Heart of Gold” rang through the countryside.

When I returned to Avonbank months later to view the gravestone, someone had left a bulb of Music

garlic beside Dad’s grave.

Maybe I should sing some old country songs while planting this fall’s garlic crop, to get it right.



Berries, Cold Gravy and generosity
January 1, 2009, 5:44 pm
Filed under: Generosity | Tags:

Berries, cold gravy and generosity
God, money and me
From the Feb. 5, 2007 issue of Canadian Mennonite magazine

—Mike Strathdee

The power of example is a much more potent influence than is generally understood. Several incidents involving the Strathdee children have reinforced that principle for me.

We had a bumper crop of raspberries last year, the most abundant crop during the 15 years that Carolyn and I have had a house and a patch to pick.

Ella, our daughter, is keen to help with outside work, but less excited about the scratches or the mosquito bites that accompany berry picking expeditions. When the bite count went past her tolerance level, and when she realized that the job was not nearly done, she apologetically headed for the house, taking along what we had harvested together. Some time later, she returned to the edge of the patch, carrying the same berries in a series of plastic containers, and explaining which neighbours she had chosen to bless with the first fruits of these seasonal treats.

Humph! I muttered under my breath. Couldn’t she wait until the picking was done, so we could see the bountiful yield all in one place? And where did she come up with the crazy idea of giving away everything, anyway? Further reflection provided the answer. Until a few years ago, when the combination of regular varmint raids and the demands of a high needs younger child led us to abandon vegetable gardening efforts, we routinely passed on tomatoes, beans and zucchini to neighbours. Ella saw enough veggie sharing that the idea stuck with her, even after our practice had lapsed.

That’s a much happier influence than another scene witnessed recently. Both of our daughter Kate’s therapists, young women in their mid-20s, are fond of colourful, flashy clothes purchased from a retail chain that rhymes with “cold gravy.” For months, every time we drove past a certain plaza, Kate would ask when we could go shopping there.

When their grandfather gave Kate and Ella birthday money, clothes shopping at a certain store quickly became the consensus on how the cash should be spent. They made good choices in their purchases. But their excitement around the experience of buying sparkly logos—and their persistent questions about when the next trip will be—left their parents somewhat ill at ease.

Thankfully, the social epidemics that such emotions can spawn isn’t restricted to the consumer realm. A few years ago, Sam, a young boy who lives a few houses away, decided that for his birthday party, instead of bringing gifts, guests should make a donation to a local men’s hostel. When Ella heard about that, she decided that for her party, kids should bring materials for MCC school kits. Her friend Beth, for a party a couple months later, asked for donations to help an environmental charity save the tigers.

How can we, as parents, grandparents, mentors or friends in the church community, help to channel excitement and the enthusiasm of the next generation in the life-affirming direction of good deeds, as a counterbalance to the deadening consumerism that is all around us?

It’s an important question, and certainly worth a few boxes of berries.

Mike Strathde, CFP is a stewardship consultant at the Kitchener, Ont., office of Mennonite Foundation of Canada (MFC). For stewardship education, estate and charitable gift planning, contact your nearest MFC office or visit mennofoundation.ca.