A good friend of mine is the top dog in an outfit that does incredibly good things for the poor wo try to survive in the dusty folds just across our borders. He lives very modestly and drives a used four-wheel drive SUV as is apt for a mission ministry that survives off of the generosity and sacrifice of others.

A life long bachelor, he has given his years to God’s service and the needs of the poor, and as such, has deeply inspired many. So much so that one day a wealthy supporter pulled him aside and handed him the keys to fancy sports car.

“This is for you” he said, “If anyone deserves it, you do”.

For several months my friend drove this gift around, marveling at its speed, handling and luxury.

But the whole time there was a queasy feeling in his gut.

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The Land Cruiser lurched uncomfortably from side to side as we lumbered down the badly rutted dirt road. It was an ordinary June night in Arusha, Tanzania, except for one thing--the World Cup.  The biggest sporting event in the world was going on and people all over our city were gathered in pubs and restaurants, clubs and living rooms to watch the games, hosted for the first time on this very continent.  

What caught my eye as we bounced along was the tiny roadside snack shop with the plastic chairs set out on the dirt in front, semi-circled around a small television that flickered the event into the dark, cold (it's winter here) night.  Eager faces, lit by the screen, followed every move with passionate attention to detail.

The World Cup is a big deal.  And it means a lot to Africa.  Everyone from Desmond Tutu to Nelson Mandela and Emmanuel Adebayor has commented on how much football, and this tournament in particular, inspires young Africans.  It's huge.  

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When you write a book for a big publisher, you inevitably lose control of parts of it. Humanitarian Jesus is no exception to that rule.  But I never knew that when I finally agreed to the publisher’s sub-title, “Social Justice and The Cross” I might be making an enemy of Glenn Beck and other conservatives who view the words Social Justice as a profane attack on all things American and I suppose for that matter Christian (if you don’t know what I am talking about click this link).

While the book doesn’t come out until May 1, I have given a few copies to close friends and family and to my surprise one of the reactions has been, “Oh wow, have you heard what is going on with those words ‘social justice’?  I mean, it is a really big thing right now.  What do you think about wealth redistribution?”

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My wife, Laurie, and I lived in Munich, Germany for several years. When we got there we discovered that Germans, by and large, do not have built-in closets. In place of closets they use schranks, large pieces of furniture that function like a closet, something like an armoire, only a lot bigger.

They are huge pieces of furniture and for novices, as we were, they are quite complex to assemble. After spending hours putting ours together we realized we had made several mistakes. Thankfully, however, the schrank was functional. Breaking it down and putting it back together again was just out of the question. It would be just too much work. But over time the imperfections of our assembly job became annoying. It didn’t look right and the doors were awkward.

A year later, for a wide variety of reasons, we had to move. Moving is always a lot of work and presents many challenges. But we were excited for one reason: we had a strategic opportunity to re-build the schrank the way it should have been in the first place.

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