Tithe

I read something in Donald Miller's Blue Like Jazz that really hit me, and I want to share it with you today, and how I tried my hardest to carry it out.

Miller wrote about a friend of his who very rarely frequented a church building and yet held a strict policy on "tithing" (the act of giving back from your money to God, usually through church). Miller asked his friend why he tithed when he saw a large glass jar on his desk full of money that was considered "unusable" because it was money he was going to someday give to a church. His friend replied, "How can I not tithe, Don? It's God's money!"

That really hit me. The blessings that I have are not mine; they are God's. And I need to give of them back to him. And I love how Miller discusses how that doesn't always mean dropping a couple of bucks into the collection plate on Sunday morning. So yesterday I went to the ATM and got out some cash and decided that I was going to REALLY tithe today. I was going to find some way, other than the collection plate, to give this money back to its rightful owner.

I went to church in Jackson with my sister and brother-in-law, and then afterward we went out to eat in celebration of my birthday from last week. As I pulled out of the parking lot, I knew that it was now or never; I had some money burning in my wallet and I had to find a way to glorify God with it. I drove around the usual places that homeless people typically hang out at on Sundays, and I didn't see any. I was very discouraged... I started to get on the exit ramp and head back to school, I switched it to "Give Me Your Eyes" by Brandon Heath on my iPod, and got back on the highway.

I didn't make it a mile before God showed me what I was supposed to do today.

I saw a ragged-looking man with a large backpack walking down the road just before Casey Jones' Village, and he had a small puppy walking with him. I pulled into the parking lot at Casey Jones' Motel, and climbed the embankment up to the interstate to greet the man.

He was so thankful just that I was saying, "Hello."

His name was Jim. His dog's name was Niche. Jim had dark, tanned and leathery skin. He had a thick, gray and black beard that hung down to his chest. He had maybe four teeth, big wide eyes, a shirt advertising a motorcycle rally and a beat-up cap. He was sweaty, and extremely dirty, and smelled strongly of alcohol. I asked him what I could do to help him, and he said that he was so hungry and needed a place to stay for the night. He told me that he'd been trying to hitchhike out of Jackson for a few days now, but that it was proving to be no luck. He had been sleeping behind an old abandoned gas station just down the road from Casey Jones' Village. He didn't know what to do.

I walked with him back down to Casey Jones' Motel and said I'd try to get him a room for the night. The woman at the front desk seemed shocked to see me walking in with this man. She said that they couldn't allow him to stay because they had a no pets policy. As I walked out, we caught eyes, and she was looking at me with a look of bewilderment that I won't soon forget.

Jim and Niche loaded up in my car and we drove down the road to Days Inn. Jim got out and asked the lady at the front desk if they allowed pets, and they did, and so he happily motioned for me to get out of the car and come in. We left Niche outside for a little while and went in to talk to reception. Jim filled out the paperwork for the room, giving the lady the I.D. that he had from a homeless shelter in Colorado. I noticed a Honduras flag hanging on a necklace around the lady's neck (how "ironic," God), and asked her about it. She said that her boyfriend was from Tegucigalpa. I explained that I had been a missionary there that past summer. It was almost as though once I started talking about being a missionary, it all clicked for her. As she handed the room key to Jim, she just looked at me and smiled. I smiled back and said, "Have a great day" as I exited the door. She added quietly, "Yeah... you too..."

:)

I helped Jim get his stuff out of my car, and he unhooked Niche from his backpack and stood up straight to say goodbye before he made his way to his room. He looked me in the eye and said, "You will never know how much I appreciate what you have done for me. I have been so stressed out lately trying to find a place to stay that, look," he stopped and showed me his hand, which was shaking violently, "... Look, I'm shaking I've been so stressed out." Then he paused for a moment and looked at me again and said, "You are sent from Heaven. God bless you." I shook his hand and returned the blessing, gave him a little cash for some supper, and wished him a good, relaxing night's sleep and a good breakfast tomorrow morning. He laughed, "I've been so stressed and worried for so long. But for tonight, I get to just kick back and relax. I don't have to worry about anything! I'm going to take a shower, and get some food... It will be great." And with that, Jim went back to his room. And I got back in my car. And I drove away.

And I cried.

I turned the iPod back on, and "Give Me Your Eyes" was still playing, and then "Instead of a Show" came on, the car still smelled like the bitter mixture of alcohol and sweat, and I just... cried. I cried for Jim. I cried for Niche. I cried for all of the broken people and situations and circumstances that are in this world.

And so I ask God, "God, help me to bring Heaven here. Help me to spread your love to everyone that I come in contact with. Help me to restore things to what you meant for them to be. Help me to make things better. Even if it's just for one night."

So here: have your money, God. You do better stuff with it anyway.

"'Bring the whole tithe into the storehouse, that there may be food in my house. Test me in this,' says the LORD Almighty, 'and see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that you will not have room enough for it.'" - Malachi 3:10