Haiti (or, Why I Eat Burned PopTarts)
A funny thing happened on the way to my rant this morning.
Well, several things.
One: I watched the news. A correspondent asked a 12-year old Haitian girl, “It’s a hard time to be 12 here, isn’t it?”
She replied, “It’s a hard time to be any age.“
Two: I had my usual anti-capitalist mental hissy fit (it became more of an out-loud hissy fit once the house emptied) while I brewed coffee, loaded a dishwasher, checked email and glanced at Facebook in my warm house with a roof, four walls and sealed windows.
I wondered aloud why it’s easier to give when given something in return — why do I need a t-shirt or a CD? Why don’t I ask Tom to give away both pairs of shoes? Where’s my tax deductible receipt?
Why do I look at my excess to determine my capacity to give?
Three: I took care of business with Samaritan’s Purse. (Always good to have that done before starting a rant about giving.)
Four: I burned my PopTarts. Burning food is a regular thing when I’m in the kitchen. It is no joke that the smoke detector goes off when I make Jell-O.
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Surreptitious Subtraction
Didn’t [your land] belong to you before it was sold? And after it was sold, wasn’t the money at your disposal? What made you think of doing such a thing? You have not lied to men but to God.” (Acts 5:4)
I was kidded the other day for using a word like “duplicitous” (intentionally deceitful — doesn’t that sound just like the Pharisees?). And so today I follow it up with a word like “surreptitious”? What am I thinking?
Some words have such a great sound to them that they just beg to be used now and again. Surreptitious. It’s all about being sneaky, about using stealth. The dictionary definition I liked best for my use of it here talks about “obtaining a favor . . . by unfair representation through suppression or fraudulent concealment of the facts.”* I think that what I want to look at today is exactly that.
We just saw this incredible lifestyle developing among the early believers in Acts, where the people were so devoted to God and their fellowship with one another that they let loose their death grip on material possessions and self-preservation and began sharing all they had as anyone had need. At the end of chapter four, Dr. Luke talked about this further, telling us that the believers were of one in heart and mind, didn’t claim anything as their own, but shared all they had. Sometimes those who owned real estate would sell their land or houses and bring the proceeds of the sale to the apostles to distribute to those in need. As a result, there was no one among them who was needy. They let go of their stuff to help care for their brethren.
We meet a couple in the opening verses of chapter five that thought this was kind of a cool idea. So this couple, called Ananias and Sapphira, sold some property that they owned and brought some money to the apostles to use among the people. They really got it. They saw how God had blessed them and wanted to give back. They didn’t want to have more while others had less. They had really been moved by Barnabas’ compassion and generosity when he sold his own land and brought the money to the apostles.
Sad thing is, none of that was true, except that they sold some land and brought some money to the apostles. They weren’t moved by Barnabas’ compassion and generosity though. And they really didn’t “get it” at all. Their motive is not fully clear. Perhaps they wanted some attention, some notoriety or to earn a little goodwill with the believers. Maybe they wanted their names on a plaque in the new nursery. Whatever the motive, when they sold the land, they held some of the money back. When they brought the proceeds of the sale, they didn’t bring it all. They subtracted a portion and kept it themselves.
And then they lied about. They said they brought it all.
The subtraction was the math part. The lying about it was the surreptitious part. They suppressed a crucial fact. They misrepresented their generosity.
When Ananias came with the cash, Peter knew what he had done and confronted him on the spot. What were you thinking, Ananias? You lied to the Holy Spirit! You lied not to us, but to God! What were you thinking?
Here’s the kicker. He didn’t have to give all the money. There was no rule about this. There was no sign posted to say that “All donations of land sale proceeds must be in their entirety or not at all.” In fact, he didn’t have to sell any of his land. This was an amazing thing the people were doing. They were selling what they had and sharing so freely. But nobody said they had to do it. This was their response to what God was doing in their midst, but it was a heartfelt, spontaneous response, not a dutiful obligation they forced themselves to fulfill.
Peter pointed this out to Ananias. The land was his to do with what he chose, and the sale proceeds were his as well. It was his call what to do with it. Nobody would have blinked if they brought half. Or a quarter. Or a tenth. Folks gave as they were able and as their hearts moved them, just like with the building of the Tabernacle.
But this couple? The enemy was at work in their hearts such that they took the opportunity to elevate their image, but at the cost of their integrity.
And, incidentally, their lives.
When Ananias’ deceit was exposed, he instantly fell over dead. Young men took him out and buried him.
Along came Sapphira. Peter sat down beside her. (Sorry, couldn’t resist.) He gave her a chance to come clean. She had a chance to tell the truth. She didn’t. Is this the price you got for the land? Why yes, Peter, of course. We brought you every last cent.
Oh, Sapphira. How could you do it? How could you test God like this? How could you try to lie to Him? He knows. We know. And here are the men who just buried your husband. Sapphira fell down dead as well.
There’s no pretending with God. There’s no lying to Him.
Being deceitful with the Divine is actually quite deadly.
Doing the right stuff
but for the wrong reason
and then not being straight about it takes away all that may have been good.
* ”surreptitious.” Webster’s Revised Unabridged Dictionary, MICRA, Inc. 12 Sep. 2008. <Dictionary.com http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/surreptitious>.
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Greater Than, Less Than
As He looked up, Jesus saw the rich putting their gifts into the temple treasury. He also saw a poor widow put in two very small copper coins. “I tell you the truth,” He said, “this poor widow has put in more than all the others. All these people gave their gifts out of their wealth; but she out of her poverty put in all she had to live on.” (Luke 21:1-4)
Remember those greater than and less than signs you learned in grade school math? Those little bird-beak symbols that point in either direction to compare two numbers? Like this: > < . Now they get used a lot for making goofy faces in emails and text messages. As a grade school kid I always had a hard time remembering which was greater and which was less. Left and right, debit and credit, greater than and less than. They all gave me trouble.
I’m a little embarrassed to admit, with apologies to my teacher Mrs. Johnson, that I still have trouble with those symbols as an adult. I think that the open part of the bracket is supposed to face the bigger number, and the small point is next to the smaller number. But I really can’t be sure.
And it doesn’t help at all when I read a story like this one in Luke where the greater than and less than symbols seem to get totally flipped around.
But then, that was kind of the point, don’t you think? Jesus flipped the symbols to get us to think about what true sacrifice, true generosity looks like.
Here’s what happened. Jesus has had a few confrontations with the Pharisees in the preceeding chapters, not the least of which was His angry encounter with the abusive merchants at the temple who exploited those who came with pure intent to make their sacrifices. Later, the chief priests and teachers of the law (notice Luke doesn’t call them observers of the law, just teachers) came, got right up in His face, and very directly questioned His authority: “Who gave You this authority?” Jesus responded with a question they couldn’t answer, and then flatly refused to engage them any further on their question. The direct approach not working, they sent spies in to try to trip Him up with a duplicitous question about paying taxes. Next, the Sadduccees came and tried to ensnare Him with a convoluted question about marriage in the resurrection. His tack-sharp answer put them to rest for a while, and no one dared to ask Him anything else.
After all this, Jesus found it a good time to warn the disciples, in the earshot of all the people who had just witnessed these encounters, to “beware the teachers of the law.” He points out that they like to make a big show, and look good and important, and meanwhile devour widows’ houses. They made a big, fancy, spiritual impression, but behind the scenes, just below the surface, they were absolute predators. A “brood of vipers” He would ultimately call them according to Matthew.
It is directly within this context that a beautiful case study unfolds. Another one of Jesus’ fantastic teaching moments presents itself.
He looked up, and saw that there were folks bringing their gifts and offerings to the temple treasury. The rich came and deposited their gifts. He doesn’t say out loud how much they gave. But it’s safe to assume that it was more than “two small copper coins.” Because “two small copper coins” is what was given by the next in line. Along came a poor widow. No doubt this was one of the poor widows preyed upon by the impressive looking teachers of the law. She put in “two small copper coins.” That was it.
The teachers would have been mortified by her gift. They would have scoffed. If you listen while you read the text, you can hear their tongues clicking against the roof of their mouths. This was a fraction of one cent. Practically nothing. They may not have realized they even made such small coins.
Why did she bother to bring anything at all? What can we possibly do in the temple with two small copper coins? It won’t buy any new drapes. It won’t pay for a single new pew cushion. It won’t pay for any new Sunday School books or communion cups or sheet music. What was the point? Why did she bother at all?
Jesus didn’t scoff. He didn’t belittle her. He didn’t dismiss her tiny gift.
Jesus didn’t tell her to move along out of the way so those with real offerings could get through.
Jesus was delighted. He rejoiced. His heart swelled within Him over what this little, bent over woman did with her two small copper coins.
“This poor widow has put in more than all the others.”
What was He saying? Did He have my problem? Did He forget which way the greater than and less than signs went? Did He need some help from Mrs. Johnson? Surely she could clear this up for Him.
No, He knew which way the pointy side went. He knew.
He knew that all the others gave out of their wealth. They gave from what they did not need. They gave what was extra, what was left over, what was not essential.
But the poor widow, this precious little woman of God, gave out of her poverty. She gave all she had to live on. She gave what she really couldn’t spare. She gave from what she did not have.
And as she dropped those two small copper coins into the treasury, those two little copper next-to-nothings, her heart swelled within her as well. She knew God would value her gift, she knew God would know what it meant.
She gave it. And then she walked away. There was nothing left in her purse, nothing left in her cupboard (if she had a cupboard). She walked away empty handed and trusted God to provide for her. She knew He would.
She gave from her poverty. She gave from what she did not have.
Jesus looked up and saw what she did. And He found that her gift, smaller than the rich donors even imagined could be done, was greater than all that they had given.
Greater than, less than.
When God starts counting, sometimes you have to flip ‘em around.
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Stop With the Offerings Already
Then Moses gave an order and they sent this word throughout the camp: “No man or woman is to make anything else as an offering for the sanctuary.” And so the people were restrained from bringing more, because what they already had was more than enough to do all the work. (Exodus 36:6-7)
I love our church treasurer. She is a faithful steward of the resources entrusted to her. She sees that we meet our obligations. She pays attention to the charges that the bank dreams up to tag us with. She keeps really good track of the expense reimbursement checks that I tend to lose before I get home with them, and patiently replaces them for me when I realize they’re gone. (Usually that’s when she tells me she can’t get the bank reconciliation to work…because of my outstanding lost check). And she regularly encourages us during the prayer time during our monthly leadership meetings to be grateful for the way God provides for the needs of our church, through the generosity of His people.
One thing I’ve never heard her say is what Moses told the people here. “No man or woman is to make anything else as an offering.” She has never said what Moses said according to The Message translation, “Men! Women! No more offerings for the building of the Sanctuary!” Really, stop! Quit bringing the offerings already! No more!
This is unprecedented. Not only have I never heard our church treasurer say this, I’ve never heard of any church treasurer anywhere saying anything remotely like this. I’ve never heard of the people of God having to be restrained from giving more.
Can you imagine? The people had given so much that they were told they had to stop. They had to be restrained. Incredible.
Let me tell you what’s going on in the background here. Moses had gone up on Sinai to meet with the Lord and had received the stone tablets of the law. He was gone a long time. Too long. Or so the people thought. While he was gone, they gave up on him and managed to convince Aaron to build them a golden calf so they could worship it. Moses returns from his phenomenal experience with God on the mountain, and in his anger over their outrageous behavior breaks the tablets. God, in His anger, strikes them with a plague and says one of the most excruciating things in the whole of Scripture. He tells them they can still go to the land He promised, but “I will not go with you.” I’m going to come back to that another day. Today, we continue on.
Moses does Commandments: Take 2 on the mountain, and when he returns with the new tablets, he works with the people to plan for the building of the Tabernacle. The Tabernacle was a thing to behold, and there are those who have done some very good study about everything involved in it that my little brain just can’t wind itself around. So I’ll leave that to those who know it so well. I just want to look at where the resources came from to build it.
Back in chapter 35, Moses told the people that “everyone who is willing” was to bring to the Lord the various materials that would be needed to build this wonder. And so they went their separate ways and “everyone who was willing and whose heart moved him” brought their offering. They brought jewelry. They brought fine linens. They brought yarn. They brought goat hair and sea cow hides. (Yeah, I know. But it’s in the text. What do you want me to do?) They brought silver and gold and acacia wood. They brought gems. They brought spices and oils. All those who were willing brought what they had to offer. They brought their offerings.
Everyone who was willing. Everyone whose heart moved him.
God has a way of providing. He instructed them to build this Tabernacle, a work of beauty and of art that they had never seen before. He had specific plans, specific designs, and he called out a couple of craftsmen and artists to head up this project. They couldn’t just whip it together. They needed the resources from the people. They depended on God to move their hearts to generate the offerings they would need to have all the material required to complete the project. To complete the work.
And moved they were.
Their hearts moved them and they gave. And they gave. And they gave.
They gave to the point where they had to be told to quit. Stop it. Stop bringing the offering. That’s enough.
Men! Women! No more offerings!
God uses His people to provide for His work. He resources His dreams by moving the hearts of His people to give.
And when it works, when people allow themselves to be moved, and they give to the all fullness that their willing hearts can give, it overflows. It’s more than enough.
A willing heart. A moved heart. An abundance that exceeds our wildest dreams.
When we give ’til He tells us to stop.
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The Conversation