this last sunday, a homeless man named Tim came to our service, thanks to the generosity and hospitality of a couple of my friends who took him out to lunch the other day.

during praises and pains, Tim expressed how grateful he was that he was able to come to our service. Tim isn't like me. Tim has an accent of some sort that i find a little funny. He's homeless--that's different from me too. He has a bum knee and has some trouble walking so he is often leaning up against walls or sitting down. He's a friendly guy, although he has no doubt gone through his set of trials and spent a good amount of time drinking and/or partying. Tim, like I said, isn't like me. He grew up in a different world and has certainly made different choices and had different opportunities.

when the time came for offering, i saw my friend Kelsey, who brought him, walk up to the plate and drop in a few coins. it wasn't until yesterday that i found out that those weren't Kelsey's coins. they were Tim's and he had asked her to drop them in because he couldn't walk up there on account of his bad knee. and we were confronted with the story of the widow and her mites, who gave all that she had despite her situation. but i am nevertheless confronted with the reality of the situation. i am rich. Tim is not. but Tim knows how to give--and yet has so little, we might say, to offer. i think that this is not true, that Tim is in fact the one who has something tangible and real to offer because his offering was not given out of plenty but out of lack.

i wish i could write how profoundly Tim's actions impacted me. i'm checked in my wealth. i'm checked in my generosity (or lack thereof), in my deep sense of entitlement. Oh, Lord. help me in this journey to be like my brother Tim and live generously and hopefully.