Kickstarting a Toad

They raised $50,000 for their cause in a single day. Surprised and elated at their success, they decided to set a “stretch goal” of $150,000, which they achieved in just under a month. More than 4500 people (and counting) have donated to their cause, and now there is a second stretch goal of $250,000. As of the moment I write this, they have raised more than $188,000. 

They are Toad the Wet Sprocket, a uniquely-named band who gained relative fame in the 1990s, who broke up 15 years ago, and who have now reunited and recorded a new studio album. Their noble “cause”? They wish to distribute their album independent of major label control. They are running their campaign through Kickstarter, a “crowd-sourcing” website that makes use of social media.

I know all of this because I am a fan. I came to know Toad the Wet Sprocket in high school and own all their full albums and several of their LPs. Their fan base, while relatively small, is passionate and committed, and apparently remains so even 15 years later. And 4500 of them gave the band money to make a new album. Contributions range from $1 to $1500, so not only is the fan base passionate and committed, they also have some expendable income.

I reflect upon the things we give our money to, as well as why we give it. How do we assign a worth to a cause? How do we choose from among the countless worthy causes that exist? Everywhere we turn, someone needs money: national and international charities, local non-profits, passionate politicians, the church you attend, the high school softball team, your kid’s dance studio, super PACs, and on and on. How to decide??

Now, one thing that Kickstarter fundraisers do is offer increasing rewards for higher donations. For $50, for example, a donor would receive an early digital download of the album (with four bonus tracks) and a special edition CD signed by the band. For a whopping $10,000 donation, Toad will come to your house (or wherever you want) and perform a special concert for you and however many people can fit in your backyard. And there are a number of levels of rewards in between. So, we could say that the 4500 people who gave money to Toad’s “cause” aren’t really making a charitable contribution, but rather they are making a purchase. It’s a quid pro quo: Their fifty bucks doesn’t come back void, it gets them something in return.

What do we get in return for truly generous giving? What do we get in return for cooking a meal for someone who just got through surgery or had a baby? What do we receive for putting our change in the Salvation Army bucket at Christmas? What is the benefit of giving money to a missionary who wants to go someplace you might never go yourself? If these are investments, what is the return?

We’re raising support, too, and sometimes I wish we could give a tangible “return” to those who give to us. That way all involved could point to something specific. The Kingdom of God rarely works in such a linear fashion, however, though the rewards Jesus describes are absolutely guaranteed. They just aren’t always directly quantifiable. For our part, we can keep you informed about us and what’s going on, and thus you can feel a part of our ministry. We can pray regularly for you – that’s something, right? We can host you when you come to visit us in the Bronx (wink wink) and show you around the city. But the real return for generosity comes from God, not from us, and we honestly have no idea how He will choose to return your investment. That’s for Him to decide.

Fifty thousand dollars in one day. If we can raise that much in a year we will be elated.

And if you were wondering, yes, I did contribute to Toad’s fundraiser. I figured that I was going to buy the album when it came out anyway, so I might as well pay the $15 and get the bonus tracks. It was worth it, right? It was a worthy cause, right? I got a return on my investment, right?