You Have What is Yours

By Rev. Gusti Linnea Newquist

Matthew 25:14-30

Two years ago, when I was serving a church in Tucson, I had the privilege of joining a group of teenagers and their adult advisors on a mission trip to Agua Prieta, Mexico, just across the border from Douglass, Arizona. We were participating in one of our Presbyterian Border Ministry partnerships called “Frontera de Cristo,” which offers assistance in church development, health ministries, and migrant resources for both sides of the U.S./Mexico border.

Our very first day was a Sunday, so we visited Lily of the Valley Presbyterian Church in Agua Prieta. The service was, of course, in Spanish, so we strained our ears to understand what was going on. But worshiping God is, in a sense, a universal language, so we found ourselves settling into the rhythm of the sanctuary quite nicely after just a few moments.

Then came the time came in the worship service to receive the morning offering. Here at Madison Square, we pass a plate down the pew while the choir blows our socks off with whatever musical arrangement Paul Hughes has cooked up for us this week. And it is amazing! But nobody sees what we give—or if we give—and we don’t really talk about money very much, and it is all very private, as issues relating to money usually are in polite society on this side of the border.

But at the Lily of the Valley Church, the offering time is a really big deal. In fact, it’s almost as if the entire service culminates at this point. The band—with drums and guitars and crashing cymbals—leads the entire congregation in singing, and they come forward in plain view to place their offering in plates that are placed on the communion table. We, who were supposedly ‘rich’ Americans, wanted the congregation to see that we would give our part, too. But as we stood up to put our dollar in the plate, our host urged us to sit back down.

There are two different processions that come forward to the front of the sanctuary at the time of offering, he said. In the first, it is only the official members of the congregation that come forward. When you join Lily of the Valley Presbyterian Church, you commit to offering ten percent of whatever income you have earned every week. It is a condition of membership to offer a tithe, he told us.

Wait until the second procession, he said. That is when anyone who wishes to give an additional offering—or participants in worship who are not official members of the congregation—come forward to present their gifts. Two processions—one to tithe, one to make an offering of love, both to celebrate the goodness of a God who has offered us abundant life, who has commanded us to share that abundant life with everyone.

Three days later, we learned that part of our mission trip experience would be to try to figure out how to live on a maquila salary for 36 hours. We were reminded that this salary was about the same as what our tithing Christian sisters and brothers at Lily of the Valley Church received. So we, who had been asked to figure out how to live on a basic salary similar to what our Christian sisters and brothers working at one of these factories would have, huddled over a budget worksheet to discuss our most important budget priorities: Food, of course. Shelter, definitely. We figured we had enough clothing for 36 hours so we let that basic necessity go unbudgeted. But tithing. That was on the list of possible budget items. What would we do about tithing?

It was a concept that was new to our youth, so I explained that in biblical tradition, when the Israelites lived in an agricultural economy, they were commanded to return the first tenth of their crops to the service of God. This “tithe”—meaning 10 percent—provided an income for the temple priests who had committed their lives to serve the people. The tithe also provided a pool of resources to care for those who did not have enough to cover their basic needs.

It is not so different from the pledges we make to our congregation. Some of us give ten percent, right off the top. Others of us give a different percentage every year. Others of us give a particular amount that reflects our prayerful response to the generosity of God. Through the practice of giving back—whatever amount it might be—we, like the ancient Israelites, remember that everything we have produced through the sweat of our own labor is, in fact, a gift from God, even if we worked hard to earn it. And through the practice of giving back, we, like the ancient Israelites, share the fruits of our labor with those whose labor simply has not provided sufficiently for their needs, even if they have worked just as hard as those who have more.

So there we were, four American teenagers and three American adults living on a Mexican maquila salary for 36 hours trying to decide whether or not to tithe. We did not think our maquila salary was very large. We had already decided that we could not afford to set aside any money for medical emergencies. And with four growing teenagers among us, we really, really, really wanted to have enough to eat!

So . . . would we tithe?

Well, it just so happens that one of the adult leaders and I are committed tithers, and we both spoke passionately in favor of the practice. The other leader spoke of how her experience of tithing is an expression of her gratitude for having a job and her discipline of trusting that God will provide, even when times are difficult, just as God provided for the Israelites wandering in the wilderness on their way to a land of milk and honey. I spoke about how the practice of tithing had given me the courage and dignity to receive help from others when I needed it, knowing that God was using the gifts of others to care for me in my time of need, just as God had used my gifts to care for others in their time of need.

We convinced our teenagers to tithe in Agua Prieta on that mission trip. Some of us agreed reluctantly, others of us agreed passionately. But in the end, we tithed. And then we got sick. We had set aside money for the church, we had set aside money for food, we had set aside money for housing, but we had not set aside money for healthcare. And we got sick.

Guess who helped us? Lily of the Valley Presbyterian Church. The place we had just sent our tithe.

Our pastors took us to the doctor, and we got the medicine we needed. Our church family made us chicken soup—a cross cultural health care system for sure. Our leaders adapted the schedule for us, so we could rest. And we got better. And now it is all a distant memory.

But we tithed. On a maquila salary, we gave thanks and we gave back. And I would submit to you that the experience of giving to the church in that 36 hour period really did change our lives, spiritually, emotionally, physically. We gave back as a reminder that everything we have received comes from God. And we gave back as a reminder that God has asked us—no, God has commanded us—to share what we have with others. And we gave back as a reminder that we might someday need help ourselves. And that, too, is a gift from God.

On this Stewardship Sunday, at Madison Square Presbyterian Church, God has invited us all to gather in the spirit of those four teenagers and three adults in Agua Prieta making decisions about our budget and what we think we can afford. Food, of course. Shelter, no doubt, Clothing down the road. Health care, we pray. But giving back to God . . . perhaps we really can afford it. Perhaps, in this economy, when more and more people are coming to us for help, we can’t afford not to.

God really has provided for everything we need, just as God provided for the Israelites wandering in the desert . . . just as God provided for the first century Judeans in the time of Jesus . . . just as God provides for 21^st century Christians—and people of all faiths—across any border in any part of the world during any economic cycle. And our job is to say thank you . . . and to share. May it be so among us today. Amen.