I recently hired a baby sitter, an eighth grader that goes to my church. She seems to be a responsible young lady. I also know her mother and family so there’s some trust built in. This in and of itself is nothing worthy of writing about. More on the baby sitting later.

The mission work my baby sitter performs is very much worthy of a story. This summer she will join many other youth from our congregation to travel to one of a handful of service projects. Our youth work their tails off in challenging environments including the Katrina-damaged Mississippi and Louisiana coasts, various destinations in Appalachia and some inner-city work. A typical project might be to help remodel a home. This trip ain’t Club Med. It’s valuable work to those on the receiving end of the generosity, but there is something more valuable to be taken away from this.

I often worry about the children that grow up in very affluent suburbs such as Alpharetta. It’s easy for adults to realize how fortunate we are to live here, yet kids raised in this lifestyle may have a jaded sense of reality. Our kids attend amazing schools, get cars when they turn 16, have iPhones and $300 hand bags. Atypical? Of course but if you were born and raised here, it’s normal right?

It’s why I’m a big fan of youth service projects. I want these kids out there, working hard, sweating and learning to be servant leaders to someone in great need. They need to witness destruction, poverty and despair; words we don’t say much in affluent Alpharetta. More than anything, they need to learn to respond to God’s love and grace by helping those in need.

So how does baby sitting play into this? Not only do our youth work hard on these projects, they take on some of the cost themselves. It would be easy for our church to pick up the entire cost of the trip (we pay for a lot of it). But the kids will find themselves invested in the project before it even begins if they are footing some of the costs. So here in the Spring they are serving our congregation with projects to raise a few bucks. I won the baby sitting in an auction and am looking forward to using it on a date night with my wife. I’ve got the easy part in all this.

If you’ve chosen Alpharetta as a place to raise your kids then you made a great choice. If you’re not getting your kids plugged into a youth program with service projects like this then shame on you!

This past week a few of us had to deliver faith statements for something at church. We were encouraged to be a little creative, so I framed mine around living in the affluent burbs. What can I say, that’s just how I roll. Thought I would share my suburban faith statement here on my blog since it is very relevant.

I recently heard our preacher talk about the great ends of the church,  among those are the “exhibition of the kingdom of heaven to the world.” With apologies to an outstanding baseball movie, the first thing that went through my mind was … “Is this heaven? No, it’s Alpharetta.”

Sometimes I frame my faith against my life here in the suburbs. My faith has taught me to recognize contradictions I observe. Despite living in one of America’s most affluent suburbs, we have local charities that struggle to meet the demands of their clients. We have rising unemployment in a town of a hundred thousand high-tech cubicle jobs.

My faith teaches me to love my neighbor. We live so close to our neighbors that the acorns from their trees land on my patio furniture, yet I hardly know them. It’s life in the suburbs. Are we “exhibiting the kingdom of heaven”? Hardly. It’s embarrassing really.

My faith teaches me that I’m an imperfect man. There’s a shocker! Despite my sinful ways and failures, Christ died for me. Even though we often don’t heed even the greatest commandment, Christ reconciles us to Him. It’s powerful stuff, yet remarkably simple at the same time. Even so, it is difficult for many here in Alpharetta, myself included, to put our faith into practice, even with the vast resources we possess. So what does Alpharetta look like when we exhibit the kingdom of Heaven? I’m sure it looks a lot different. I’d imagine we don’t cut each other off on GA-400.

I’m trying to raise a young family in Alpharetta. Like most parents I want my children to be well-grounded. I hope they learn to see through the gilded opulence that exists here. I want them to be thankful for the many blessings we take for granted and to be generous givers of their talents and treasures. I’m extremely grateful to have a congregation that will play an important part in their faith journey in the coming years. Thank you and God bless.

The call went out. I noticed it twice in the course of the week. First it was in our church bulletin. A few days later I discovered this article in the Neighbor Newspaper. North Fulton Community Charities is in a bind. Cash flow is a little tight in the summer months, which makes providing services a little tough. On top of that, the food pantry continues to have high demand.

This is the greatest paradox of living in the affluent suburbs of Atlanta. Actually it is a double paradox. The fact that there is such demand for assistance may surprise some. Sure, we’re in a prolonged recession. Yet many of our neighbors are not as well off as you might think. Talk to enough volunteers at NFCC and you’ll hear stories of folks in luxury cars asking for help at the food pantry. It’s a paradox. It happens every day. Even in Alpharetta. Even in Johns Creek.

The second paradox is that charities like NFCC struggle financially. It makes me a bit embarrassed quite honestly. We drive nice cars, live in fancy neighborhoods, dine in expensive restaurants but don’t make even small contributions to local charities in need.

I gave a little something after reading this article. It isn’t much at all. I suppose indirectly I’ve helped through my church. Our congregation, like many others in north Fulton, supports NFCC in a lot of ways. But I couldn’t in good conscience write this article without doing something. We’re blessed to live in this area. Please do your part to support local charities in need.