When we were married, we had an agreement that we would go to church every Sunday. That agreement cost me my job (at a local radio station) when I was called, the first Sunday after our marriage, into work. An agreement is an agreement. So we lived on one meager salary for a while, until I could find another job.
Several weeks after the job loss the annual stewardship campaign began at our small, western Michigan church. I felt an obligation to give back to this little group something for what I received in fellowship and inclusion. We discussed our situation and found ourselves in a quandary. We had no disposable income. I talked to the pastor and asked what I could do. “Rake leaves,” he said. So I raked.
And raked. And raked. And raked until it felt as if my arms were going to fall off (and, in those days, as a volunteer fireman, I was in pretty good shape). Finally, with a huge pile of leaves at the edge of the road, I quit raking. “There has to be a better way,” I thought.
My October discomfort continued through several years of completing a degree, job-hunting, and early, low paying employment. We were able, by then to contribute some funds to our church, but certainly not what I thought was expected. So, each fall, I squirmed in my seat during the annual stewardship campaign.
With two salaries, we finally began to find some disposable income. We had moved into a small house in a Detroit suburb, and were able to buy some functional furniture. But our church was the last on the list and often underfunded.
We went on a weekend religious retreat. The final presentation on the weekend made the point that our experience was already paid for by those who had attended previous retreats. We were encouraged to give from our substance, not from the excess, because if we gave from our substance, as time passed and we would be reminded, when we were unable to afford something we wanted, of our gift and the reason for our gift. It had been a very inspiring retreat and we decided to step out in faith and give – from our substance.
Surprisingly, there were not many times when that gift from what we thought was substance actually limited our ability to meet our needs. That fall the revelation inspired us to talk about proportional giving to our church. We decided to set a percentage of our gross income that we would dedicate to our pledge. We started modestly at three percent, but we committed to increasing that one percent each year.
The truth is, we were not very good at keeping our commitment to increase our pledge by a percent each year, but we did, eventually, achieve our goal of ten percent. I have not regretted that decision and occasionally, for special reasons, we have significantly exceeded ten percent – especially during the second capital campaign to pay off the mortgage on the “new” sanctuary.
The most significant benefit of the decision, though, is the knowledge that we are supporting the worship community we love and that loves us. It is a joyful feeling, now, each fall, to fill out our pledge card and it sure beats raking an eight-foot-high pile of maple leaves to the edge of the road.
Pete Ross
Stewards in the Hands of a Loving God 