Category: generosity (Page 4 of 4)

The cost of Trident, and following Jesus

A few weeks ago, I calculated the price of a piece of gum before offering it to my friends. I only wish I was being dramatic. Granted, this is no run-of-the-mill Wrigley’s. It’s a party of Sweet Cherry and Island Lime, almost like chewing on a Sonic Limeade. 

Despite the minty freshness, my attitude left a bad taste in my mouth. Mostly because as I’ve worked toward this generous spirit thing, I can see what a complete and utter failure I am. I desire to live with hands outstretched, but continuously return to my habits of grasping and reaching. 
In my struggle toward a more generous spirit, I have to wonder what I’m striving for – is it just writing checks to a church or organization? Because I doubt it. I believe it has something to do with my heart. I believe that God wants me to count the costs of following Him, yet I’m not sure He meant the gum I would chew along the way.
This morning I read from Ephesians 5:1-2 (The Message). 

Watch what God does, and then you do it, like children who learn proper behavior from their parents. Mostly what God does is love you. Keep company with him and learn a life of love. Observe how Christ loved us. His love was not cautious but extravagant. He didn’t love in order to get something from us but to give everything of himself to us. Love like that. (Emphasis mine)

We’ve been taught this, yes? Christian and secular alike, we’ve heard the preaching that “it’s not just in the getting but the giving.” So we’re supposed to give. I think Christians tend to believe we have a corner on the giving-market but we’re dead wrong. In fact, I think we tend to be living backwards of what Jesus preached. 
Have you ever looked at a church balance sheet? I’ve seen several. Do you know how many special “funds” exist within the church pocketbooks? Nothing short of 89. Okay, I totally made up that number. But when Great Aunt Edna dies, people firmly believe that money cannot go toward paying the pastor or sending kids to camp but instead needs to be used toward something more noble. Like another plaque. Or banner.  
As the past few weeks have proven, with the Great Compassion International Scandal of 2014, we also believe giving to organizations and charities isn’t just about the good work the organization is doing, but also about every viewpoint we carry, even if not expressly written our creeds or preached by Jesus. (For those unfamiliar because you gave up social media for Lent, when Compassion International announced it would begin allowing for the employment of gay persons, over 10,000 monthly supporters dropped their commitments to fund food, education and basic needs for a child oversees. Yup. Way to go, Christians.)  
I don’t advocate for giving to groups expressly created to support causes I don’t jive with, like White Supremacist groups for example (omg, I had no idea I would stumble into a list this long. Clearly we have a problem here.) And when Dave Ramsey tells me to “tell your money where to go” I totally get that – let me be in the driver seat rather than materialistic strivings. 
Yet as I look at the teachings of Jesus, my heart begins to break for the larger picture of Christianity and how we just don’t get it. At the end of his life, when days on earth were few, Jesus took the opportunity in Matthew 23 to unleash some harsh words for the religious leaders – a series of woes to the Pharisees. One of them in particular (23-24) jumped out at me:

“You’re hopeless, you religion scholars and Pharisees! Frauds! You keep meticulous account books, tithing on every nickel and dime you get, but on the meat of God’s Law, things like fairness and compassion and commitment—the absolute basics!—you carelessly take it or leave it. Careful bookkeeping is commendable, but the basics are required. Do you have any idea how silly you look, writing a life story that’s wrong from start to finish, nitpicking over commas and semicolons?

(Oh, my dear friends. How long will it take us to realize how often we are the religion scholars and Pharisees? If you’re a person who studies the Bible, you more likely to be a Pharisee than a fisherman, so perhaps we should pay attention to those words more carefully.) 
I think our American Spirit has infected our Generous Way. We tend to love expecting ROI. We give when it suits us, not when asked. We respond when convenient (like the end of the tax year, perhaps?), not when needed. We live with such control over our lives that we exert it into the people and causes around us, which I believe changes what was intended as a work of love into a conditional transaction. 
And Jesus expressly said to let go of that. Let go of the need to control. Let go of the expectations. In fact, in the sermon on the mountainside (Matthew 5:42), Jesus said to give to the one who asks of us and not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you. 
This seems like poor financial advice in terms of setting yourself up for a great retirement plan, but that’s what you get for listening to financial advice from a homeless preacher. But this vagabond also reminded us that where your treasure is, there your heart is also. Perhaps he had bigger dreams than a nice house in the suburbs with a full 2-car garage (though those things can still co-exist). He could have been dreaming about a Kingdom come where generous hearts authentically loved others and our giving was an evidence of that.  

The magic penny

I just needed one thing: coffee creamer. We even let the Kroger cashier check us out to be quicker. But the nice, chatty older woman behind me couldn’t let it be just that. 
The girls were waiting patiently, playing the touch-as-many-candy-bars-as-you-can-and-ask-what-each-of them-are-called game. Of course one asked for one, and I gave them my standard look that reminded them their chances were better if they wished for a fairy. 
The cat lady behind us would have none of it. (I’m not embellishing – her basket was filled with Fancy Feast.) “Oh, how sweet,” she said. “Can I buy them one?”
“Oh, no – that’s alright. They don’t need it. But thank you for the offer,” I politely responded. 
We get nearly all the way through with our useless Kroger Plus points and I tell the girls to each grab a bag. Cat Lady looks at me again. “My son and grandkids are out in California. I never get to treat them to things like this.” I gave some expression of sympathy that it stinks to live far from family and tried to move on. 
She gave me The Look. Head tilted forward, eyes looking up, and she poked a thumb toward the candy rack. “Please?” 
Alright girls, you scored big. 

Malvina Reynolds: Song Lyrics and Poems. Also, 4-H Camp. 
I told them that the generous woman behind us wanted them to each pick a piece of candy because she was so nice. They didn’t have to be told twice. Though the did have to look at each candy bar repeatedly to ensure they were making the best decision. We left, candy in hand. I’m praying they don’t start asking people behind us in line if they’ll buy them a candy bar. 
I really didn’t want to let Cat Lady treat them. Mostly because we just had a weekend of indulgent eating and, as mentioned, I don’t want them to think that strangers should just buy them something they want. (Is this an unrealistic fear?) But The Look trapped me – I couldn’t say no. I neither wanted to be the person who was so uptight about sugar for her kids nor wanted to steal joy from an old woman who just wanted to be nice.  So I caved. 

One of my major goals for my “Jesus Year” is to begin to live more generously. I’ve been struck recently by the generosity of others in my life, even if in seemingly small ways – a friend bought me a drink one evening, another one treated me to a cup of coffee.  Now a random stranger wanted to give my kids the small joy of a candy bar. 

To put it nicely, I would never do that. I would try. I would want to. I would intend to. But follow through? Psh. 
My friends, and especially Cat Lady, are teaching me what I’m missing with my fist-clenched lifestyle: the joy of giving. Watching 2 little girls as their eyes light up selecting the perfect chocolate (ahem, Butterfinger) and knowing I was a part of that. I helped make that happen. 
Perhaps I’m not generous because I’ve not practiced being generous. I don’t know that beautiful feeling, so I falsely believe that keeping my own to myself brings the utmost gratification. 
A friend of mine put on FB one time: Dear God: May I be generous to a fault. May I be so lavish in my generosity that people even consider me wasteful. Unreasonable. Imprudent. Because then, maybe they will get even a glimpse of how You have been toward me.
It caught me and stuck. Yes, that. What if I were to live as generously as God has been to me? What if I lived like I believed? I believe God to be generous, what if I lived like it were true? What would that look like? 
I’m challenged to stop looking only at the bottom line. (Sure, the bottom line counts somewhere, but it’s not the only question to be asked). Because I do believe in a God that transcends the Maths. He multiplies and divides and always has enough. 
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