Thirty One Cents

I listened as the deacon greeted and welcomed all who had turned out for the morning worship service at the small church we attend.  He then gave the morning’s Sunday Schools’ report "Forty eight in attendance, thirty seven Bibles, and one hundred fifty seven dollars thirty one cents given.”  I thought, THIRTY ONE CENTS!  Was it given by someone who had only that amount to give?  Then I thought of a story I heard years ago of a church meeting at which a wealthy man rose to tell the congregation about his faith in testimony.  "I'm a millionaire," he said.  "And I attribute my wealth to the blessings of God in my life."  He went on to recall the turning point of his faith.  As a young man, he had just earned his first dollar and was eagerly thinking of all the possibilities when he happened upon a church meeting.  He found himself consumed by the message he heard that night, and when he saw the offering plate he knew that he would either have to give it all to God or nothing at all.  At that moment, he decided to give everything he had to God.  Looking back he knew that God had blessed this decision and made him a successful man.

When he finished his story an awed silence filled the room.  As he sat back down into his seat an elderly woman leaned over from the row behind him and said: "I dare you to do it again."

The moral of the story strikes visions of the weight of sacrifice upon the scales of monetary value.  Quite obviously, it would be far more difficult for the millionaire to now give up his millions than it was for someone, last Sunday morning, in Sunday School to give up THIRTY ONE CENTS.  Jesus encountered a similar sentiment when he told the rich young ruler to go and sell everything he owned.  The young man "went away sad, because he had great wealth" Matthew 19:22.  As it stands, the story boldly illustrates the genuine hold my financial securities have on me; the thought of applying the same level of passion—giving all or nothing—at this place in the my life fills me with alarm.

But this story, I confess, also betrays a common undercurrent in the torrent of my thoughts often associated with munificence.  The virtue extolled by Christ to "go, sell my possessions and give to the poor, and I will have treasure in heaven" is one I  have, at times, have thought of in negative terms.  It is far more costly in my mind for the millionaire to give up his millions than the child to give up his dollar because a million is far more "costly" than THIRTY ONE CENTS. But here, I am considering the sacrifice strictly in sacrificial terms.  The virtue of generosity is seen not as virtue in the true sense of the word, but as sacrifice, self-denial, or "giving up" something good and desirable. 

Then, of course, Jesus also exposes my tendency to measure sacrifice and virtue upon the manmade scales of monetary value in his admiration of the widow at the temple.  "I tell you the truth," he said of the woman who gave two copper coins, "this poor widow has put in more than all the others" Luke 21:3.  What I skip over His love for this widow who "gave out of her poverty" is His love for a woman who gave upward instead of "giving up."  Giving positively instead of negatively, she was able to see herself giving to God instead of taking away from herself.

I admire and read and reread G.K. Chesterton’s writings often. In his published 1957 book; Saint Francis of Assisi, describes the life of poverty of St. Francis in similar terms:  "There was nothing negative about it; it was not a regimen or a stoical simplicity of life.  It was not self-denial merely in the sense of self-control.  It was as positive as a passion; it had all the air of being as positive as a pleasure... He plunged after poverty as men have dug madly for gold." It is a dynamic I am considering, particularly in a society often consumed by the unchallenged assumptions of consumerism.  How do I consider my cultivating of culture?  Am I or will I begin giving positively of resources, of time, and possessions?  Or will I unintentionally give but give negatively, continuing to feeling obligated or even impressed with that giving?

This positive and passionate quality, the deeper I come in relationship and intentionally practice the words of Jesus, challenges my consumer mind, which is a disruption to my seemingly endless desires, and a herald to a new kind of giving. I am discovering at seventy that virtue is not the absence of vice; it is not a negative pursuit.  It is as positive as a passion, a promise as worth seeking as gold!

Therefore; Heavenly Father, may You be glorified in every possession You have allowed me.  Further, may the Holy Spirit consistently remind me of what St. Matthew wrote of Jesus’s words: "Truly I tell you, at the renewal of all things, when the Son of Man is seated on the throne of his glory... everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or fields, for my name's sake, will receive a hundredfold, and will inherit eternal life.  But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first."