Generous

No one has ever become poor by giving.

– Anne Frank

I learned of him through stories, a gentleman who became a missionary late in life. His beloved wife took ill and died just as he retired from the business world. Their burning dream had been to move overseas to give their lives away.

So off he journeyed, alone. That was many years ago, and this happy-hearted missionary is now in his eighties.

I marvel at the Spirit’s fruitfulness in his life. Instead of chasing money and ease, he has opted to meet spiritual needs with those living in darkness and despair. He moves winsomely, generous with his time and words as he steps into the grittiest, harshest places of the globe.

And to think he could have faded away, basking in the leisure of retirement: golfing, fishing, lazily sunning himself by the pool, perusing the news and social media from the comfort of his overstuffed, living room chair.

Instead, he spends his days ministering in cities swirling with sickness, danger, and spiritual oppression. He pours truth and encouragement over younger missionaries, treating them to dinner and conversation, wonderfully attentive; ever careful in listening. This gentleman is ungrudging with his time and selfless with his resources.

When dining out, he pays for those circling the table and then quietly tips the server the same amount as the bill. What humble generosity–munificence on fire.

The stories tell the man, do they not?

What we do and how we live showcases one of two murals: a generous heart or a stingy soul.

Twenty-one years ago, our kitchen phone rang. It was Stephanie, a woman I had met a handful of times in passing at our large church.

Congratulations on your new baby girl! she said, her smile sparkling through the phone. We chatted amicably for a few minutes and she prayed for our family’s upcoming move across the country. And then:

With three big brothers, I imagine your little one doesn’t have hand-me-downs. If you’re interested, I would love to pass along our daughter’s clothing.

I cradled the phone on my shoulder and closed my eyes as I swayed slowly back and forth, my chin nestled atop my newborn’s soft head as she napped. I was tired from labor and delivery, tired from weeks of battling my daughter’s severe jaundice, and tired from wrangling the logistics of our impending move.

Stephanie’s generosity was a bright sunbeam poking through pitchy clouds. One kind phone call served as a balm, smoothing my crumpled spirits.

Later that afternoon I loaded up our children and pulled into Stephanie’s driveway. She opened her front door with a smile and beckoned us out of Florida’s scorching heat into her comfortably air-conditioned home.

She patted the heads of my trio of little boys, offering them juice boxes and cookies, and then opened her arms to my baby girl, making a pleasant fuss over her. After a time, she pointed to the hallway and the treasure that awaited.

I had imagined that she had kindly prepared one box of dresses and was thereby stunned by the four, industrial-sized trash bags stuffed to the brim, overflowing with pastel dresses, flowered jumpsuits, infant onesies, soft sweaters, hats, socks, and hairbows. Expensive, well-made clothing that exceeded anything we could ever have afforded.

For the next three years, our daughter was beautifully dressed in Stephanie’s generosity.

The stories tell the woman, do they not?

And day by day, attending the temple together and breaking bread in their homes, they received their food with glad and generous hearts…

-Acts 2:46

Many years ago, in my husband’s first pastorate, a family visited our church. The wife and I shared common ground and quickly connected. A few weeks passed, and as we chatted after the service, she asked me what day might work best for her to drop off dinner for our family.

Dinner? For us? Why? I asked, confused. Our family was neither ill, nor hospitalized, nor expecting a baby. I was accustomed to delivering meals to our congregation, not vice versa.

Later, much later, she told me how stunned and saddened she was to note my surprise. Your husband feeds our souls weekly. The least we can do is bless you with a meal, she said simply.

And what a dinner it was. The choicest meats cooked to perfection, alongside exquisitely seasoned vegetables. A bright green salad dotted with toasted nuts, fetta, cranberries, and itty bitty clementines, tossed with a light vinaigrette and sprinkled with coarse salt and pepper. Warm crusty bread, cradled in a basket, peeked temptingly from beneath a soft cloth napkin. Decadently chewy, melt-in-your-mouth brownies for dessert.

Her kindness graced us that night, decorating a ho-hum, ordinary Tuesday with a heaping dose of generosity.

The stories tell the heart. Always.

Generosity with strings is not generosity; it is a deal.

– Anonymous

Have you ever been the recipient of generosity with complicated strings attached? Or perhaps, as the giver, you have given generously with a hidden and selfish agenda?

Those are not generous offerings or gifts at all. They are something quite different–giving to get–which is the opposite of generosity.

John 12:1-8 is one of my favorite Gospel passages:

12 Six days before the Passover, Jesus therefore came to Bethany, where Lazarus was, whom Jesus had raised from the dead. ²So they gave a dinner for him there. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those reclining with him at table. ³Mary therefore took a pound of expensive ointment made from pure nard, and anointed the feet of Jesus and wiped his feet with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. ⁴But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (he who was about to betray him), said, ⁵“Why was this ointment not sold for three hundred denarii and given to the poor?” ⁶He said this, not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief, and having charge of the moneybag he used to help himself to what was put into it. ⁷Jesus said, “Leave her alone, so that she may keep it^[c] for the day of my burial. ⁸For the poor you always have with you, but you do not always have me.”

Mary’s extravagant generosity paints a portrait of her sweeping adoration of Jesus. In that day and time, such costly perfume was reserved for future marriage, a woman’s proof of devotion to her groom. Mary’s highest devotion to Christ as her Lord superseded all concerns of money, reputation, dowry, and future plans. She gave everything she had. Wholeheartedly.

How interesting to note that Mary’s devotion and lavish generosity were met with contempt and scoffing by the very one whose soul was selfish. A fraudulent disciple, this thief named Judas Iscariot. The one who lived a life tangled up in hidden strings and self-serving agendas, offering Jesus a warm greeting and a brotherly kiss, while simultaneously betraying the Savior of the World for thirty lousy pieces of silver. This small-hearted man could not see that magnanimous acts stem from a heart fully satisfied in bowing before Christ.

Mary’s generosity was praised by Jesus in the Gospel of Mark, as he told those gathered that she had done a beautiful thing. Her soul overflowed, a river rushing with happiness in God. And it showed.

May we be great-hearted, seeking to step outside of personal comfort and ease, traveling the extra mile to serve others.

Generosity is beautiful, indeed.