Charity Overload

By Patricia Raybon

Such a short prayer. Such a big question: "Lord, show me how to give."

This wasn't after Katrina or the big tsunami—or any of the famines, earthquakes or wars that seem to dominate the news. Somewhere between such devastating events in recent years and the pleas for charitable help that followed, I put down my checkbook and simply sought the Lord: Please, show me how to give.

I was feeling guilty, for one thing. Other people I knew seemed to give more, with greater impact. But no matter how much—or how little—my household gave to charity, our gifts never seemed big enough or made a difference. I felt frustrated.

Even worse, I felt resentful. Why should I help feed, clothe and support poor people around the world if their own governments wouldn't? My attitude was hardly loving or Christ-like. Meantime, calls for help kept coming. Not a day went by, it seemed, when my mailbox wasn't filled with more pleas for help.

Call it charity overload. Starving refugees. AIDS orphans. Homeless families. Devastated villages. Lonely seniors. The jobless. The hopeless. The sick. The poor. To make a dent, I'd grab my checkbook and write out another pitiable check. But the next day, like clockwork, another desperate plea arrived.

Then, something changed. On a quiet evening early this year, I put down my worn checkbook and pushed away the solicitation letters. Then, I prayed. Lord, show me how to give.

Was it a good prayer? Perhaps, because the Lord has responded with grace and answers, starting with the primary thing:

First, give yourself to me.

In the apostle Paul's wonderful teaching on generosity in his second letter to the Corinthians, he describes the early churches at Macedonia who, despite "their deep poverty," did something surprising: "they first gave themselves to the Lord" (2 Corinthians 8:2, 5).

So, charity wasn't about writing checks—it was about surrender. If I'd stop wrestling with the "problem" of giving, the Lord would show me where, when, and how much to give.

And He did.

Right then, in fact, I noticed a letter sitting atop my teetering stack of mail. It was from a Bible translation society, asking not for money—but for prayers to support its literacy program in Africa.

Literacy. I said the word out loud. Then, I stopped and prayed for this group. Then, I realized, as an author and journalist, my work is meaningless if people can't read. I pondered these things with excitement, wondering: Should I focus my charity on one thing—that is, on literacy?

The very next day, I was meeting with a man and his Ethiopian wife. As we chatted, she described how life in Ethiopia didn't improve until people there were finally taught to read. "Americans are so generous, and give so much in aid," she said. "But what people really need is to learn to read." She went on to describe how Ethiopians who couldn't read depended on leaders to tell them what to believe. "But when you can read for yourself, you can seek the truth for yourself."

In prayer that evening, I did the next important thing to reshape my charity worldview: I thanked the Lord. First, for His clear answer: I could give by sharing my passion for reading and writing—for literacy, indeed. Second, boldly, I thanked Him in advance for resources to give. Third, I thanked Him for His example; as Christians, we give because He gave first.

And, no, literacy isn't the "charity answer" for every believer. But for me, with a God-given talent to write and a passion to help others read, the Lord seemed to be saying: Here's your focus. Or, put another way: We make a difference with our charity—whether with dollars or in-kind work—when we focus our efforts specifically on that which God draws us to. And, we focus best by loving with our God-given gifts and interests. In that way, charity isn't giving as much as sowing.

Paul goes on to speak to this phenomenon: "Now this I say, he who sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and he who sows bountifully will also reap bountifully. Each one must do just as he has purposed in his heart, not grudgingly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver. And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that always having all sufficiency in everything, you may have an abundance for every good deed" (2 Corinthians 9:6-8).

Having all sufficiency in everything? My God-given talents, including my love for writing, would allow me to abound in every good work connected to those talents. Such work sows into people's lives, which sows into the kingdom. Who wouldn't be cheerful about that?

This takes a loving, open mind, however. So the very next week, when my pastor asked me—a "word person"—to write and design this year's annual report for our church, I didn't think too hard. I just said yes. But when the page proofs came back, the pastor and his staff gushed, "Wow! This is beautiful! We've never had anything like this before." Then, the pastor's secretary said, "Praise God!"

I smiled. Paul promises that good sowing results in praise to God. "They will glorify God for your obedience to your confession of the Gospel of Christ and for the liberality of your contribution to them and to all," Paul wrote. (2 Corinthians 9:13)

Indeed, I heard God praised again when I wrote the Bible translators to tell them of my decision to send a portion of my writing fees every month to their literacy program—even though my check that month was only $19. "I cannot begin to tell you how excited I was to hear of your recent gift," the director e-mailed me. "I have actually been praying for the Lord to touch the hearts of authors here in the U.S." She went on, "I have been working in Africa some of 19 years, living in Cote d'Ivoire. I have also lived in Cameroon and South Africa. Last March I visited Senegal and saw the work and its amazing results first hand… You are sowing into people's lives!"

Since then, I've asked my publisher to bring other authors on board, and interest is bubbling. So far, my monthly gifts have varied. But as Paul says:

"For if the readiness is present, it is acceptable according to what a person has, not according to what he does not have" (2 Corinthians 8:12).

Beyond writing checks, I praise God for showing me how to give—by trusting Him to guide me. That's because giving is also about faith. That's what the poor widow had when she gave her last two pennies. (Luke 21:1-4) By sowing them, she trusted God to turn her meager coins into a bountiful gift that glorified Him.

In the end, giving is about love. If we love God, we can give as He did—with focus, passion, faith and love for the hurting and lost. In that way, giving isn't frustrating. It's powerful. And that's why cheerful givers triumph—their giving is for Christ.

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