Being that the Thanksgiving and Christmas seasons are in full swing, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about generosity, and giving, and what it means to give “sacrificially.” In meditating on the idea of sacrificial giving, some light was shed onto a dark part of myself, and though it revealed an ugly truth, I’m better off for it, and I hope that you will be, too.
I like to think of myself, and my family, as the generous sort. As the type of people who will forgo some of our own wants, in order to provide for the needs of others. But when I peek behind that veneer of generosity, reality doesn’t match up.
I realized this some nights ago. I was feeling really anxious, the way I used to feel when I was a kid, and I had done something wrong, and was about to get busted for it, except in this case, I didn’t have any idea what I had done wrong, or who was going to bust me. All I could think about was Kalkidan, our Compassion Child, and how there are so many children just like her, whose basic needs aren’t being met, and how completely unjust that is. And that’s when I got busted.
You Won’t Even Notice
When I tell people about Compassion, and how they should sponsor a child, the first thing I say, every single time is “$40 a month might sound a lot, but I swear to you, won’t even notice it.” “You won’t even notice it” is not only true, but it’s tragic. (I have the same feeling about auto-drafting tithes from one’s bank account, but that’s a whole ‘nother post.)
Here I am, feeling somewhat proud of our family, for giving some of our money to a child in need, but really, how sacrificial is it if we don’t even notice? It’s not like we’re giving our excess money away. We’re giving the excess of the excess. How noble. (I’m okay being sarcastic if I’m levying it on myself.) Needless to say, I’ve been humbled.
But here’s the thing: when we first began giving to Compassion, it felt like a sacrifice. Instead of buying a bottle or two of wine during the month, we’d send money to Kalkidan. But is forgoing wine really a sacrifice? I mean, when so many people don’t have access to clean water, is my skipping out on wine really sufficient?
The fact of the matter is that I’m completely comfortable giving, so long as it doesn’t inconvenience my family too much, and that attitude has come to really disgust me. Why does my child deserve nutritious, organic, GMO-free food, when so many children around the world don’t have enough food, period?
Light Chases Out Darkness
I want to notice that I’m giving. If you’re the church-going type, you’re familiar with the idea that giving is an act of worship. It’s a way of acknowledging that we only have what we have because God gave it to us in the first place, and showing gratitude and love by giving some of that away to others. And if you’re not the church-going type, no doubt you believe in some form of “paying it forward.” Can I really consider our monthly gift to Kalikidan sacrificial if we don’t even notice it? I mean, I guess an easy answer is to turn off the automatic payment every month, and choose to do it manually. That’s a start.
I remember what it felt like growing up, always having to do without, and I’m so blessed to be in a position as an adult to choose to feel the burden of sacrificial giving, rather than the aching pain of an empty stomach. And it’s somewhat embarrassing to reveal the ugly parts of myself, but I think there’s a lot of truth to the phrase that “sunlight is the best disinfectant.” And if previous conversations with you all has taught me anything, it’s that I’m not the only one feeling this way. I’m curious to hear if you guys “give without noticing it,” and which organizations you support.
If you haven’t heard of Compassion, please do check them out. Like I said, $40 might sound like a burden, but if you can “sacrifice” some trips to Starbucks, or pack a few more lunches, I don’t think you’ll suffer. Also, in the coming weeks I’m going to talk a bit more about another organization I love, Heifer International. If you have some minutes, do yourself a favor and look into them, too.
Let’s be friends!