When does our stewardship have integrity?

Katie Funk Wiebe

* At the rescue mission where our Sunday school class sometimes was responsible for the evening service, the homeless men had to hear a sermon before they were allowed to eat. Then, we who had brought the Good News and their bologna sandwiches went to a restaurant to eat pecan pie and chocolate sundaes.

At fundraising dinners, on the other hand, we eat abundantly first and then hear a peppy stewardship talk. After that, we put our offering into the basket.

* In Central America on a Mennonite Central Committee learning tour, our small group was travelling on a crowded bus in the back country. At one stop, a young man, his very young wife and an older woman got on the bus carrying a tiny white coffin. Our tour leader quietly translated their story for us.

Their 10-month-old child had suffered from diarrhea, so the mother stopped nursing her. The infant quickly became dehydrated. What to do? It would take two hours by foot to reach the bus stop, followed by another two hours on the bus to get to a clinic. Lack of money was a big factor in the decision. Finally, when the child did not improve, they headed for the bus. The baby died just as they reached the clinic. They were now on their way home to bury the infant. I could see their hearts were heavy.

I watched our leader slip the grandmother some money. Why hadn't I thought of that? But they were followers of some strange mixture of religions, outside my usual area of giving, and I had only enough cash with me to finish my trip. I still wanted to buy a few souvenirs.

* A friend who tithes religiously, gives her money only for relief projects. An elderly businessman told his pastor proudly that, as far as he knew, not one cent of his money had ever gone towards anything but overseas missions. Somewhere he had the idea that the money he set aside for Kingdom work was like a gift certificate that could be spent only in one store.

* A young woman who had been working for several years as a bank clerk, found particular joy in setting aside part of her salary for Christian causes. Each payday, she was off on a treasure hunt to find new and more interesting ministries to which she could send money. She had a great stack of literature she didn't read cluttering her apartment. The mail box had replaced the offering plate.

Christians are doing a lot of giving these days. Even tithing has staged a revival. Much money is passing hands in the name of Christ, but not all of it will pay off in eternal dividends. When does our giving have integrity?

Stewardship means holding something in trust for someone else. When our stewardship has integrity, whatever we have been entrusted with by God is handled in a sound manner, not sloppily or dishonestly. We've heard often we are to give generously, freely and with forethought, based on II Corinthians 9. I'd like to add a few other principles.

Our stewardship has integrity when we recognize that we hold more than our wealth, or even our talents or time, in trust. We are stewards of much more.

Children. Our care of our children reveals the integrity of our stewardship of everything else. What they model from our lives reveals what we hold most important. Will they ask themselves, "What does God want of me?" or "How can I make the most money?"

Resources. We are also stewards of our renewable and nonrenewable resources, our water, trees, oil and gas. I've started recycling with greater dedication, even though it means the inconvenience of having the garage wall lined with boxes until the monthly pick-up.

People. Guatemala City has a different but highly efficient method of recycling. When the garbage trucks arrive at the city dump, people rush to sort the loads for resale. All plastic, cloth, wood, metal and food that is not entirely rotten is reclaimed. The only thing that isn't precious is human beings. They live in absolute squalor, in shacks made of bedsprings and plastic at the edge of the dump.

People are some of our most important renewable resources. Yet we litter human beings like used tissues when we stop thinking of them as individuals and push them into stereotypical groups: natives, Hispanics, the poor.

Older adults are also being wasted. Many congregations do not see the riches in their greying population, even as some years ago we didn't see the rich resources in women. We value older people when we don't let them vegetate, when we recognize that each is a gift to the congregation and each has a gift.

A recent speaker said we raise children to believe they have a God-ordained right to a stereo and car. Families believe they have a right to a microwave, an entertainment centre and a vacation every summer away from home. Older adults expect extensive travel.

We first need the bread that comes from heaven. Jesus told His disciples: "Do not work for food that spoils, but for food that endures to eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you" (John 6:27). Yet people fear lowering their standard of living more than they fear starvation of their souls.

During the Exodus, God provided the children of Israel with enough manna to meet their daily needs, but they weren't satisfied. In 1958, when my husband became ill, we were without an income for a time, so generous friends donated what they had the most of--canned peaches and tomatoes. We ate canned peaches like the children of Israel ate manna, day after day, and like those unhappy wanderers, I grumbled. Only later did I recognize that, like the Israelites, our wilderness experience was a time of enoughness, not of want.

God's word to us always is: "Feed on Me. Let My Spirit sustain you. I am the living bread. Let it become part of you and change you, bringing the miracle of love into your life so that you will give out of the fullness of compassion."

Stewardship with integrity requires risk in giving without benefit of a a tax-deductible receipt, a reward or visible credit.

Some donors expect something in return--a good meal, a plaque or a building with their name on it. They have never discovered that one of life's greatest freeing experiences is giving to causes where the receiver cannot issue a tax receipt.

The goal of living today is often to achieve security. Sometimes I am shocked at how much money people spend on insurance each year to take all risk out of their lives: house insurance, car insurance, medical insurance, life insurance, liability insurance, dental insurance, termite insurance, appliance insurance, travel insurance.

Writers are encouraged to make themselves vulnerable when they write. Stewardship has the same requirement. Yet sacrifice is an element in the Christian life we seldom hear about. If we give more than usual this month, it only means that we postpone, not cancel, desired purchases.

An older friend told me of her longing as a young girl to have a new pair of Sunday shoes. Hers were worn and scuffed. Her father had promised her the shoes if the crops were good. But Tabor College, the Mennonite Brethren school of higher learning, was in a difficult financial situation, and, as chair of the board, he felt an obligation to give to its depleted budget. Her Sunday shoes had to wait.

Our stewardship has integrity when we refuse to increase our wants as income increases.

A stand against mindless consumerism becomes an act of faith when we refuse to keep checking the ads to find ways to pamper our wants. Friends wonder why I don't subscribe to the Sunday paper. I refuse to allow this weighty mass of advertisements to clutter my Sundays and my waste paper basket. Though my action is only a very small symbol of simpler living, it reminds me I can't take it with me.

This is my beginning list that I work on to bring more integrity to my stewardship. You add to it.

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