Tantrums & Things

"People don't need our money. I need money to buy toys." Turner, age 3

Hey, at least 3 year olds are honest. He'll shout what most adults can't or won't admit they think. This year, I gave my church a giving calendar during Lent. Most days, they're asked to make a small donation to their box that accompanies the calendar. Units are self-determined. Proceeds go to Week of Compassion, our denominational development and emergency response agency. Through the course of Lent, participants will donate somewhere in the neighborhood of 250 units. That's $2.50 if your unit is a penny, $62.50 if it's a quarter. You get the idea.

On the days they don't make a donation, people are asked to pray for a need that Week of Compassion helps meet or to learn about one of Week of Compassion's partner organizations.

Yes, it's meant to be a meaningful practice, but not an overwhelming commitment.

And still, a 3 year old ended up in what his mother termed, "full meltdown." Even he knows there are tons of cool toys to buy. Personally, I'd like my too full closet to be fuller. I'd really like my junk jewelry collection to be newer and trendier. I'd like a flat screen TV, an iPad, and a higher end computer. One can never have too many books of course. Please, let me show you my Amazon wish list. Of course, I'll add a few things to it first.

If we're going ambitious, buying a house would be a wise investment and much nicer than renting. I could paint walls whatever color I want, buy new furniture, and have cool landscaping. Water features in the desert are freakin' awesome. Seriously, just ask Moses if you don't believe me. The towels I have are just fine, if you think their job is only to dry people, but they're no longer the color I'd like. I read this article on some blog or in some magazine or, well, somewhere else on the internet that said having all white linens gives a polished look to your home. I'm fully convinced that person, whoever he or she is, is right. I pretty much need an all white collection of towels. Then even my mom would be happy because I would use bleach on my towels!

Yes, I just bought a car, but I'd really prefer a small SUV. A hybrid would cut down on my guilt about said SUV. (Why can't I forget that person who called them Satan's Ultimate Vehicle? Ugh!) Yeah, that list could go on. And on. I'd also like a person to clean my house and someone to deliver regular, healthy prepared meals to me wherever I am. Or pack me lunch. Yes, I realize I want some version of a housewife, maybe even a Stepford Wife. Ugh, again.

And I should stop. Here's the thing: I grew up in a household where want versus need was a clear line. My sister calls me "Squeaky" on a regular basis when talking about my spending habits. I was taught to give 10% to the church, no matter what. I helped deliver food to people who were grieving, or homebound, or just needed food. I had a firm education in stewardship, including a college professor who told us point blank no matter how little we had, we were to give 10% of it away. That list could go on and on and on and on.

But, Turner, buddy, I still get it. I get wanting toys. I get how hard it is to hear Jesus' cry, "Come to me, all you who are weary, and I will give you rest, for my yoke is easy and my burden is light." I get how hard it is to realize that cry matters to us who are consumed by our stuff every bit as much as it matters to those who work indescribably hard every day and still don't have enough to eat.

I, too, need to hear about people who don't have potties, and kids who don't have enough food, and people who can't read, and all those other things you and I take for granted. So here's hoping, along the way, we both learn to see, to hear, to give, to be moved like Jesus. We need to give our money as much as anyone could possibly need it. We'll never learn to live in God's reign if we don't.