Give us this day our daily bread… Matthew 6:11
Unless we have entered the fragile world of the acutely needy, this classic petition packs little punch when we routinely pray it. Instead of looking to God, we scan the weekly grocery store ads to cram surplus goods into our freezer and the refrigerator in the garage. We buy in bulk at the warehouse store and part with mega money to satisfy our craving for bargains. The idea of living from hand to mouth seems anachronistic. The sheer tyranny of penny-pinching never enters our head until we witness a family in its grip. It is surprisingly time and energy consuming. It eats away at self-esteem and hope. It laughs at the quick-fix philosophy of the hit and run do-gooder.
As a matter of fact, Jesus, the rewarder of those who do good, does at times give us no greater assignment than to “give to one of these little ones…a cup of cold water …” (Matthew 10:42). His responsive disciple is not called on to build a desalination plant near the ocean or go into the refrigeration business. By the same token, when God yokes us with the sister in need, we realize quickly that we cannot foot the bill for two households. In fact, He will tie our hands in peculiar ways to keep us from wanting to cure with cold cash what needs to be healed with wise caring. Try selling your antique gold brooch and have the appraiser insist it is costume jewelry. Smile knowingly when it turns back into gold after the cash crisis has passed. {Part 1 of 2)
Comment: Frankly, it’s much easier to just write a monthly check to the deacons! Yes, roll you eyes all you want, having just met the relic from the financial dark ages. Where you read zelle and venmo, I see triceratops and velociraptor. I tolerated Will Ferrell in the 2003 flick “Elf,” deploring his “Buddy” character’s habit of topping his spaghetti with marshmallows. I acutely dislike his antics in the several PayPal commercials. We had a Deacon’s Office at Hollywood Pres and one early Sunday morning, I took a disheveled guy with shredded pants there to see if they could help. A bit later he found me in our small prayer room in the church basement, where I met with a few fellow intercessors. When I mentioned Christ’s shed blood to secure our salvation, he suddenly lunged at me with a frightening growl, grabbed my Bible and took off. I did get it back, but won’t bore you with more details of my dramatic little demon encounter.
While volunteering one day a week in our TV Ministry office, a former missionary started the Hispanic Ministry. I felt led to join him as a cultural “bridge builder,” as he called it. My personal assignment began by befriending a young woman with her first baby on the way. Within a few short years I found myself caring for a family of five, crowded into a one-room apartment. I quit my volunteer job as a writer and used that one day a week to take mom and the kids to the beach, museums, and playgrounds. Dad came along for some weekends at our mountain cabin, and for one memorable trip to San Diego’s tourist attractions. I also drove him to jail for a couple of stints locally. In turn he began driving me crazy by renting a second one-room dump, ostensibly to store his painting supplies As it turned out, he housed his girlfriend there. Time to take a deep breath!
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