A child shall lead them

A little girl bangs on the door.  I open and she says: “Mum didn’t knock loud enough!”  She’s on a mission, so focused that I don’t get my customary hug.  I have to call her back, teasing her about something, as I always do.  She has a little ziplock bag in hand – she brought a gift.  In the baggie is enough money to pay school fees for another little one, far away.

shoes

We have a little ceremony – with little one hiding behind mum’s legs.  I am sure there was a speech prepared, but the moment became just too big for one little girl. So mum explains…her pocket money is divided in three.  One third is for saving, the second is for sowing and the last for spending.  So she comes out from behind mum’s legs, she hands over her ziplock bag, she poses for a photo and sits down on the edge of the sofa.  Something’s up.  More to share and again mum must help.

The story is shared and a little hand opens, reluctantly, to reveal a few sweaty coins.  She counts them one last time.  “What will this buy where you live?”  The receiver is speechless, so all eyes are on me now.  “Well, that depends.  Some lollies cost more than others, but I am sure something nice can be bought for that.”  Not a satisfactory answer at all, the frown tells me so.  She hops up and quickly hands them over – almost as if she’s afraid she will change her mind.

lollies

So let me share that story too.  The coins in her hand represent half of her “spending third”.  Giving the third meant for “sowing” wasn’t hard – it never belonged to her.  Even when the gift was given, it wasn’t hers to keep.  Giving that portion was good and noble, a lovely thing for a little one to do.  But the coins clutched in a little hand…the giving hurt.  Really hurt.

So I find myself standing before my Father, clutching a fist-full of coins in a sweaty palm, thinking of the scene I witnessed just hours ago.  Giving Him praise and honour and worship and glory is easy – it never belonged to me in the first place, not mine to keep.  It’s the thought of letting go of the pain of a stab in the back, a stab in the heart, offering forgiveness for offence and repentance for sin, my portion to keep if I want to, that causes me to hold on a little tighter.  Like the little one, I count the coins in my hand one last time – “what will this buy in the kingdom where You live?”, I ask.  Like the little one, I drop the coins in an outstretched hand, quickly, before I change my  mind.  This kind of giving hurts…

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