Several years ago, a man named Ray Boltz wrote one of the most moving songs I had ever heard in my early Christian life. The chorus reverberates with these challenging words: what if I give all I have? It is a song about a little boy putting a dollar note into the offertory, because his mom told him it could actually feed about ten hungry children in a far away land. It was all he had, and what’s more, when he gave up his all, he remembered that he actually had more to give. He parted with his favourite model aircraft to a poor boy who had nothing to play with. Tears trickled down our cheeks when we watched the boy’s heart, what is more, the heart of God’s Only Son who gave up his all for sinners.
ENGAGING IN THE HARD EXERCISE OF HEART-FELT GIVING
During his earthly life, Christ taught that giving more of your little is worth more than giving little of your most. The poor widow’s mite* was worth more than all the gold and silver that went clanging down into the treasury (Mark 12:42-43). “But”, you may wonder, “how can the widow’s mite pay anyone’s salary? How can it pay for the sick and the needy? Does God not want the rich to come into the church and give? Shouldn’t our church pews be filled with the rich and the elite so as to feed the hungry and sponsor the poor and keep the church’s economic engine well oiled?” Don’t get me wrong here. I am not advocating poverty as a virtue nor am I saying that wealth is not a useful resource for church growth. I am all for magnanimous giving and tithing to the church and her causes! But the point being discussed is not how much we give. The point being discussed is how much we keep back from God.
God doesn’t want our money. He wants our hearts. He sees the heart that gives and multiplies the gift. Five loaves and two tiny fish were all it took for Jesus to feed five thousand. Your mite with all your heart matters more to Jesus than your wealth with all your might.
MONEY-LOVE IN MANY SHADES
Money, however, comes dressed in many shades. Often the church succumbs to the pressure of elitism and favouritism too. We may tend to favour a person, a church or even a country because of some outward affinities. We willingly come under the influence of those who possess wealth, intelligence, a better privilege, or (sad to say!) even the color of their skin! We want to become like them, so we befriend them. We look up to them and look down on our brother from a village or from another ethnic group because they don’t have “much to give us”. Well friends, nothing could be farther from the truth. As James put it so eloquently, “…has not God chosen those who are poor in the world to be rich in faith and heirs of the kingdom, which he has promised to those who love him?” (Jas 2:5). James ties in the idea of favouritism with the wealth people possess. They are hand in glove.
The caste system in India is a classic example of favouritism based on birth privilege. I am yet to see a church governed equally by elders who have a brahmin, kshatriya, vaishya, shudra or an achoot (untouchable) birth status. The fact probably remains true in many parts of the West who don’t yet see equity in church leadership, wherein black minority or aboriginal groups lead side by side with the white populace. Why is this so? Why do we honour the privileged sort but pay no attention to those not so privileged? Why is it so easy to condescend on the black man in our midst but find it rather strenuous to sit under his tutelage? Why do we seek counsel from the distant white evangelical man preaching on youtube but pay no attention to the local indigenous pastor sweating his calling out Sunday after Sunday, pleading with you to amend your ways? Why do we prostrate ourselves before wealthy donors but fail to thank the inconspicuous men who paid our way through seminary? Why do we find it so easy to criticise our elders but find no fault with popular men who plagiarise?
Why is the widow’s mite of no account to us in the church? Perhaps it is because we don’t see this bedazzling treasure with Jesus’ eyes.
THE GLORY OF THE PITTANCE TWO WAYS
I saw the glory of the pittance in two personal accounts. Years ago, a couple of us decided to surprise a brother in our church for his birthday. Now, this brother comes from a village in a neighbouring state and at the time was still looking for a job. For several weeks, he had been inviting us for dinner at his home. We thought our visit would be an opportune time and asked him if we could sup with him. He never responded, which we thought was quite out of character for him. We finally met him and did celebrate his birthday, and during our time there, we figured out the reason behind his apparent silence. He had run out of cooking gas! But since his heart was bigger than his gas cylinder, he decided to treat us to a pack of fryums which he fried for us using an induction stove. We cleaned up the entire plate and left absolutely nothing for him! But he was there, watching us with a satisfied, beaming smile. He couldn’t have been happier! And he had just given up the only side dish he had in his possession for the next day’s rice meal (no cooking gas mind you, and no job too). I could not shake myself from that picture of self emptying love. Some of us pat ourselves on our back for our immaculate hospitality and also sign it up as a “gift” we possess (mea culpa), when all along we only invite people into our homes when it is tidy, we look prim and proper and are not inconvenienced. But that giving is usually paid back in full with many compliments. The one of the sort I witnessed is scandalous, and more often than not, leaves one speechless.
I saw this same spirit at work in yet another friend who became a bosom sister during one of the most difficult emotional seasons of my life. My husband and I had just returned from the US and my world was falling apart. The women always have a harder time than the men, perhaps because we build our world with friends. And when those friends are no more seen, heard or felt, our world begins to crumble too. Added to this was the shift in spacial paradigms, from a culture of spatial and social tranquility to one of chaos and cacophony. During this season, it was very hard to find a friend to process this emotional turmoil with. Those around you thought it strange, and those who knew better were unable to be present. My help did not come from the spiritually rich. It came from a seemingly spiritually impoverished missionary friend who had no help nor support system herself. She was alone with her family in a very dark part of India, where phone lines barely worked and the internet flickered. She was literally cut off. Yet, in those few moments when things did work, she would call me and listen to me, and cry with me. She would share from her life in that dark place and tell me everything Jesus taught her. Strangely, that brought healing and encouragement. She went before me, and out of her poverty she emptied out to me spiritual life.
Who would have thought that a lone missionary would be the help for one returning from the land of plentiful? That I would succour at the bosom of one whose resources were sapped?
Only God could work out such an equation. That one’s weakness would fill and satisfy another than one’s strength. Or that one’s poverty would feed a multitude. That God chose to fill ancient Israel’s hunger, not with meat but with humble manna, just enough. That manna is our Christ.
Better far to glory in the pittance that Christ accepts than in the millions that Christ requires not.
*mite is an old English word which means “copper coin” or a coin of very little value. Liken it to the dime, penny or paisa.
PD: At the home of a loving family who treated to a sumptuous meal despite the hardships of COVID. Abhi is sitting in front of a majlis, a customary dining table of a muslim family with a delicious spread of salad, fruits, chocolates, butter chicken, paratas, chilli chicken, fried chicken and mutton biryani (not featured).