No one cared that I slept through church. The older ladies gathered around me and called me “cute.” My skin was still splotchy, and my eyes were clenched tight, squeezing out the light. I was just five days old. My mother sat with her new baby in the second row, proud of her expanding family.
I can’t be sure, but there’s a good chance that first sermon was on tithing. We got a lot of that in our little mountain church full of lower-class working congregants. There were bills to pay, and the pastor did all he could to keep the lights on.
Now, five decades later, I’m pretty certain I’ve heard just about every kind of sermon on tithing. I can recite the Scripture verses, retell the illustrations, and rehearse the main points. I know that it’s a Christian imperative, something necessary for the growth of the church. It’s good for my soul. And yes, I need to be a cheerful giver.
But I’ve only recently discovered something new about giving. Only it’s not just about my money, it concerns my time.
Read the rest of this post over at the High Calling, where I have the honor of being featured today..,,
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