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Asking for $10 Is Harder Than Asking for $10 Million




Six months ago, if you had asked me why I wanted to join JSAW, I probably would've told you I was a great Christian guy who could accomplish anything and that I'd raise a million dollars before the year was over.


As I heard earlier this week, “the good Lord has a way of humbling you.” 


In my day job I work as a venture capitalist, I spend my days helping startups raise multi-million-dollar investments. I talk with founders building $100 million companies. I sit across from investors and billionaires discussing business plans and financing rounds.


Then Wednesday afternoon comes around, I get in my truck, drive to a noisy little skatepark in Edina, sit down in the back room, and reach out to people asking if they'd consider giving $10 so a kid can hear about Jesus.


And somehow… that's the hardest job I've ever had.


I thought it'd be easy. I'd make a few phone calls, send a few texts, and voilà, JSAW would have a new boat, a bigger skatepark, and 1,000 kids at Bible study. Boy was I wrong.

The more time I spend at JSAW, the less I actually think about fundraising.


I think about the kid who walked in randomly and stuck around for Bible study. I think about the riders who spent years searching for somewhere to belong and found a community that actually knows their name. I think about watching kids invite other kids to Bible study because they genuinely want their friends to experience what they've found.


I've spent most of my life in action sports, and I've seen firsthand how broken this community can be. There are a lot of people searching for identity, belonging, purpose, and something worth living for. Every week, I get to watch God meet people right in the middle of that.


And then I remember, that's why I signed up to do this in the first place.


I don't really know why fundraising has been so much harder than I expected. Maybe it's me. Maybe it's the economy. Maybe people just don't know about us yet. The team likes to blame it on "marketing."


But I'm still learning that generosity isn't something we get around to when we finally have "enough." It's something God invites us into today. I'm still trying to loosen my grip and trust that He'll continue to provide, just like He always has.


JSAW is a weird place, in the best way.


I've met people here with great jobs and great families. I've met people living in their cars. I've met people who've been in prison. I've met professional athletes, riders trying to figure out who they are, and little kids who just showed up because they heard there were trampolines.


Somewhere in the middle of all of that, relationships form.


Kids who might never walk into a church start asking questions about Jesus. Riders who have spent years trying to prove themselves find people who actually care about them. They find mentors. They find community. Sometimes they find faith.


And that's why this is worth it. Every text. Every phone call. Every awkward fundraising conversation. Every donation.


Because on the other side of all of it is another rider who gets to hear about Jesus.

So if you've supported JSAW before, thank you. You're already part of those stories.


And if you've ever thought about supporting what we're doing, I'd love to invite you to join us. Every gift helps us keep showing up for riders who are looking for exactly what so many of us have already found.


You can give at JSAW.org/donatewake.

— Logan


 
 
 

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