The Devil’s Offering
I did it again. I said I wouldn't, but I did. I'd prayed about it last time, and intended to write this before, but “I didn't have time.” This time, I'm taking the time. Once again, I've brought a humble offering before the devil to revel in his crooked ways. The sad thing is I didn't even see it coming. I was trying to do good. My heart was in the right place; I just missed it.
Let me back up and tell you what happened. I was on my way home after a hard-fought softball game with some brothers from my previous church. It was about 11 pm when I reached the gas station, and as I turned in to pick up some milk, I noticed a car parked and running by the lot entrance. Near it, I saw one man on the ground, a bike to the side, and another man huddled over the man on the ground.
My first thought was the car hit the man on the bike, but after quickly parking my vehicle and running out I found out that it seemed like the man had fell victim to a seizure while riding. He was conscious, I didn't see any visible wounds, and the man huddled over him was a medic and already had sent help to the fire station behind the gas station. I hung around long enough to wave down the ambulance as it came and then figured it was time to get out of the way and get about my business.
After all, I still had to get milk, get home, take a shower, lock up the house, put the dogs away, drink some milk (which I am now sipping on), and get to bed. So, first things first, I walk in to get my milk and see that many of the staff at the gas station concerned for the fellow who was now being attended to by the medics. I gave them the run down to the best of my understanding, picked up my milk, swiped my card, wished them a good night and headed back to my vehicle.
That's when it happened. That's when I simply dropped the offering in as the plate went by not stopping to consider its real destination. As I loaded my milk into my car, I heard a faint voice from across the parking lot, “Sir, sir.” I looked up to see a woman in a pink shirt and gray sweatpants walking toward me, “Sir, do you have two dollars I could have—I need some milk.” I try to be generous and helpful and have compassion for people. After all, as Jesus said in Matthew, “42 Give to everyone who begs from you, and do not refuse anyone who wants to borrow from you.” Matt 5:42 (NRSV)
So, I pulled out my wallet, knowing full well that I needed to keep my eyes open and my wits about me as she could be distracting me from something else more devious altogether, but as usual, she was simply looking for a handout, and my giving nature was obliged to help out. And that's when I missed it. I said I didn't have two dollars, I had a five, and I handed it to her, and that was it. She took it and walked away. I'm not even sure I remember her saying thank you.
My first response as I got in my car was, “It feels good to help people.” My second thought was, “I really don't believe she's going to use this for milk—she's not even going into the store, but back to a vehicle with another person in it.” My third thought was, “Hey dummy, instead of handing her the five, why didn't you just hand her one of the two gallons you just bought—duh.” My fourth thought was, “God I just did it again, I just missed it, I just gave one more offering to the devil.”
This is not my first passing of the plate. A few months back an individual was hard up for gas heading through town. I do believe he used that money for gas. I gave him a $20, and I felt good about it until I realized it was the devil's offering. He even offered to give me his taser for the $20, but while that would have been interesting; I told him he was likely going to need it more than me. I think there was another similar event between this one and that one, but that's all beside the point—it just seems like I'm tooting my own horn for helping people.
Let's get to the point. If I'm helping people, then why am I calling it a “devil's offering?” Well, because I'm handing over the money to people I don't know, for purposes I don't know, without revealing the slightest hint of where my generosity comes from. I don't give to fellow Americans because I'm American. I'm sure there are people like that, but patriotism has nothing to do with generosity or compassion. I don't do it because I'm a good human being. I know there are plenty of people like that as well, but seriously, if there is no God, and your own finances are strapped as it is, why would you help someone else—survival of the fittest right?
I know that sounds crass, but it's not a joke. I'm not really a jerk like that, but it's not because I'm a good human being—it's because I'm a transformed human being. If it weren't for the heart transformation I've experienced as a result of my relationship with Christ, I wouldn't be this generous or compassionate. There are a lot of things I wouldn't be. And if there isn't a God, no one could judge me for it—leastways I wouldn't care.
And this is why it's a devil's offering—because I gave money without telling them where it came from. It didn't come from my overabundant wealth because, by America's standards, I don't have that (although I see myself as being wealthy beyond reason). It didn't come from a sense of duty to a fellow human being or a fellow American because I know so few really deserve it as most will use it for other than what they claim. It didn't come from some fear or some sense of karma or any other reason given by men to help one another. It came from Christ in me.
And I didn't share that. Stop! I'm not saying I should have preached at the girl all night. I'm not suggesting that I should have told her she needed to get her life straightened out before I could help her. I'm not suggesting that I should have told her she was going to hell and needed to “turn or burn.” Those too are the lazy way out, and in their own way “devil's offerings” because, in all likelihood, they might have sent her scampering away from God.
But I could have said, “Hey, what's your story? Maybe there are other ways I could help.” I could have listened. I could have maybe found more real ways to help. I could have found out if she was spinning the truth to take advantage of me and responded in a gentle way by confronting her with the truth and maybe find some other way of helping her recognize her error and seek help for whatever the real problem was. I could have found out that she was telling the truth and maybe not only helped her financially but spiritually. I could have simply said, “Hey, I don't know what you're going through right now, but I'd like it if you'd let me pray for you. I won't make any other stipulations on this money, but just let me pray with you.” And God may have used me to change a life.
But I didn't. I was in a hurry. I had to get home and get a shower and get to bed. So I missed it. I missed the opportunity. And we all miss those opportunities. We have them every day. We wonder why our nation is where it is, why the Kingdom isn't getting built, and why so many stand on the street corners asking for free money with no questions asked, no challenges given, no prayers prayed—it's because we give it without realizing, it's the devil's offering.