The business of helping others

By Jeff Long

There is no catch, says Jerry Kraynick.

I suppose I've lived too long and therefore become deeply suspicious of any absolutist, open-ended, no terms-and-conditions statement.

As may be the case with you, too many people have blown smoke in my face in my lifetime. I recognize the smell from a ways off now. Life also teaches there are rare individuals who actually mean what they say. Kraynick seems to be one of those people.

Kraynick runs a tiny community bicycle shop in my hometown, far from Southeast Missouri. It looks like a crowded 1940s-era hardware store. The single aisle is narrow and crammed. Unless you are a small child, you can't pass through it without first turning sideways. Tires and tubes hang from the ceiling and jut out to the left and right. Handlebars, seats, gears, rims and spokes are everywhere. Decades-old shelving harbors anchor bolts and bearings. You can literally smell the grease.

The shop itself is a hole-in-the-wall establishment. Jerry has a small sign on the door but no marquee proclaiming his presence in the neighborhood. He has no website. There is a Facebook page, but Jerry doesn't maintain it nor advertise any specials -- mainly because there aren't any. Other people post about their wonderful experiences dealing with Jerry.

Jerry, who is 74 years old, soon will be turning over the business to a much younger man who promises him nothing will change about the shop. When he hands over the keys, Jerry will become a volunteer -- and will keep doing what he's spent a lifetime doing. The septuagenarian bike-lover has no debt, little overhead because he owns his building free and clear, and no employees.

He charges for his services, if you insist. If you want him to fix your bike, he'll do it and charge you for the part. But he says to everyone who approaches him, offering him a fee for service: "I'd rather teach you how to fix your bike yourself. I'll let you use my tools, will let you pick my brain, and will let you use spare parts as you find them ... no charge. No catch." This is not a recipe for business success -- unless success means something else to Jerry Kraynick.

More than a quarter-century of my life has been spent in ministry, from which I'm now retired. I'm realizing just how much of my work was spent generating income to keep the institution operating. Comparatively little of my time went to hands-on helping, without any expectation or hope of future reward. So I envy Jerry Kraynick. He lives to help.

Oh, and Jerry lied. Sort of. There is a catch after all. If you come into his shop and he shows you how to fix your bike, you have to make him a simple promise if you ever return. The promise is to show someone else how to fix a bicycle. You have to agree to pass on the knowledge you've gained to another.

What if the church operated the way Kraynick's Bike Shop does?

There was a vision for this in the book of Acts. When the church in Jerusalem got its original start, all things were to be held in common and distributed as any had need. You may have noticed this vision of community life didn't last long, and the Christian community seamlessly transitioned to private ownership. The reasons are understandable -- chief among them, the potential for abuse by lazy folks not pulling their share. I get it. If you promise to help and ask for nothing in return, you will be taken advantage of and abused. I'm sure it's happened to Jerry Kraynick. But it doesn't seem to matter to him. Maybe there's a lesson here for us. I feel better knowing there's a guy like Jerry in the world.