I was sharing the sidewalk outside my workplace with an ant colony, feeling vulnerable and a bit anxious from the black clouds gathering over our heads. Still wearing my sweaty, mismatched hodgepodge of workout clothes and my second hand sneakers, I looked somewhere south of homeless. My husband wouldn't be there to pick me up for another 30 minutes so I dug around in my lunch box to find the lukewarm yogurt cup I had saved for just such a hunger emergency. As I pealed back the tinfoil lid and began to lick it clean, a modestly dressed, kind faced black woman walked out the front doors of our building and headed right towards me and the parking lot. I put the lid aside quickly and fumbled for a spoon. As she passed me she said "Oh my! What a storm!" and picked up speed. She had a point. Fat yellow cracks had begun to split the sky and the breeze turned suddenly more insistent as the woman sped past me in her Cadillac.
Ten minutes later I was still savoring my yogurt cup and keeping peace with my minuscule companions when another well dressed lady click clacked past me. This one didn't bother to comment on the weather as she stepped into the the road in order to avoid my patch of sidewalk. Licking a yogurt cup clean apparently makes one appear dangerous. She sped away moments later in her shiny black sports car.
Three more top executives from my building walked past and sped away in cars more expensive than all my worldly possessions combined, without even returning my greeting. Too busy, too good, too tired.
Finally, a heavyset woman wearing cut off jeans, a yard sale t-shirt, and blue light special flip flops came out. Her hair was frizz fried and her skin looked like the leather binding of a museum Bible. The tattered purse she carried looked as if it was crafted from the hide of long dead house pets. I felt immediate pity for her and whispered a quick, self righteous, "Dear Lord, please help that poor soul." When she reached where I was sitting I smiled at her out of the goodness of my heart, trying to let her know I didn't judge her. She stopped right in front of me, bent over as though addressing a small child, smiled back and said "Honey, can I give you a ride?" I was so startled by her kind voice and so acutely ashamed of my own judgmental soul, I mumbled a shy "No ma'am, my ride's on the way. Thank you." She studied me for another minute, as if giving me time to change my mind, before she said, "Alright then sweetie," and walked away. A moment later she drove past in a rusted out, noisy beast of a car and waved like we were old friends.
What a shock to find that the person you pity, in turn pities you. I wonder if this is how the beaten man from the Bible felt when that dirty ol Samaritan saved his life. I was still reeling from this humbling experience when God spoke to me: God doesn't judge us by what we have to offer, but by our willingness to offer what we have.
I'll be perfectly honest with you. God was speaking to me about my stubborn unwillingness to tithe. My justification for clinging to my greed is something along the lines of, "But we can hardly pay our bills!" Sounds legit right? Satan ALWAYS sounds legit.
You don't have to share it with me, but why did God compel me to reveal my sin? What is He speaking to you about?
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UPDATE: I learned how to crochet HATS!
