When I was a little girl, I suppose I knew that my Grandma Wright did not have much money. She lived in a tiny, two room apartment carved into the back of an old house. On overnight visits, I slept on a cot next to her bed. Together we would watch Bonanza or play dominoes. In the morning, she would fry cornmeal mush and let me drown it in maple syrup.
I can see her now, adjusting a simple cotton dress with buttons up the front, tightening the laces on her sturdy black leather shoes with chunky heels, and placing a net over her waves of silver hair. Pocketbook on her arm, we would walk to South Arlington Methodist Church for quilting and midweek prayer. Grandma arrived early to get the big aluminum coffee pot percolating as the other women arrived.
When I think about the widow whom Jesus watched place two copper pennies – all she had – into the offering plate, I think of Grandma Wright. She lavished me with love and fun, reflecting her trust in and gratitude for God’s provision. Her life revolved around her faith; all she did and all she possessed was caught up in that orbit.
Recent studies show that on average today, Christians in America give less than three percent of their income to the church. This aligns with statistics revealing that many churches see average annual pledges, when they are made, hovering around $1,500 to $3,000 – far away from a tithe for most household incomes.
Jesus talked about money quite a bit, but churches have a tough time with it. Americans want to keep their money-business private. People find ways to avoid examining how they could possibly “sacrifice” more to the church, so they will skip a coffee hour presentation on stewardship as they rush off to grab a $6.00 Hazelnut Macchiato down the street.
