Tithing Ourselves into Poverty

Tithing Ourselves into Poverty

By: Susan Deborah Schiller

Financial giving is a subject that is near and dear to my heart, because I believe generosity and acts of charity are close to our Father's heart. I believe there is provision for every member of the Body of Christ and that we are meant to regularly give of our means to others. If we learn to do it right, poverty will be eliminated all over the world.

But I don't believe in tithing, as it's currently being taught. In fact, my family tithed ourselves into poverty…

Several years ago, our family was tithing 10% to the church of our gross and giving above and beyond, as best as we could; nevertheless, our financial condition was deteriorating daily. My health was in jeopardy with a swollen abdomen and intense pain. It was hard to walk and sometimes I fell down. The doctor wanted to do tests and warned me that my state had progressed to the point that he considered dangerous. My husband told me we could not afford medical treatment, and suggested it would be better if I died, because I had life insurance but not health insurance, even though he was health insurance broker.

There were very few luxuries we could afford, but the very finest things of life are totally free. Despite the pain, I would take our three young children Robbie – 7, Sara – 8, and Jill -10-years old to the park down the street, which bordered a forest preserve. It had a huge paved sidewalk that looped through grassy fields. I recorded some word pictures, like treasures stored up in my heart, in this diary:

"Lately the kids have been rollerblading. Robbie likes to stay close to me and Connie (our dog). He keeps up a steady stream of conversation, punctuated by spectacular imitation falls. After each fall he grins at me and waits for my judgment (fake fall or real).

"'Mom, watch how fast I go down this hill without even getting scared!' 'Mom, wanna see me jump on my rollerblades?'

"He skates a few yards ahead of me and waits till I pass or catch up with him. If he's tired he holds my hand and I pull him a short distance. Soon he's off skating ahead to let me catch up with him again. He comes up from behind me and rubs my back as we walk/skate together.

"Sometimes he'll ride his bike and come up to me and say 'let's hold hands.' It's awkward, but we hold hands with him on his bike and Connie at the end of the leash in my other hand. He has a silly, impish grin on his face and he isn't quiet for a minute. Every sentence he says ends with a 'hee-hee!' Even when he's far behind me I can still hear him talking to himself and laughing in that 7-year old clownish way.

"A word photo of Jill: We're at church in the sanctuary and the service is about to begin. Where's Jill, I wonder? I spot her flitting around from one friend to another, chittering and chattering away. Her face is alight with smiles and the joy of having fun with her friends.

"A word photo of Sara: It's the same church service and the music has started. I allow Sara to hold one of the Bitterman twins, 6-months old. Sara adores holding babies. Reluctantly she permits me to take the baby when the congregation is asked to stand. She can't wait until we sit down again so she can ask to hold the baby again. Unfortunately, the baby is getting fussy and we need her to quiet during the service, so I hold her. Sara and Robbie try to sit as close to me as possible so they can 'pet' the baby."

Summarizing from the same journal entry: As Pastor continued his sermon on "Double or Nothing" I did some financial calculations. The day before, I had $42 to spend on groceries, and it had to last for a little over two-weeks. The kids were getting baptized and we were going to have guests over for a home-cooked meal. It seemed impossible but with careful shopping, couponing, and looking for bargains I was able to get everything we needed.

Continuing from my diary:

"I collapsed from fatigue last evening. I don't know why – I just could not take another step or do another thing without resting"…. Moving to the next day's entry: "It's 5 am and I woke up about 40-minutes ago with intense abdominal pain, so I decided to get up and pray. My devotional book by E.M. Bounds talked about the importance of rising early to meet with God and how it strikes a blow to SELF by doing so, and therefore a blow to the devil. This pain is only endurable because it throbs, giving me a couple seconds between bursts.

"A word picture of Sara from yesterday: She's at the keyboard, using the automated music, but pounding the keys all up and down the board, in time to the music. Her body is swaying and jerking as in a dance routine. I'm washing dishes in the kitchen, but she seems to feel she's all alone. Once, she peeks her head backward to check for any unseen audience, but safe in her solitude she returns to her passionate performance.

"I tucked Sara in last night and she asked me to stay a little longer. I asked if she wanted to talk – she said yes. I asked what she wanted to talk about – she didn't know. She said she just wanted to talk. It seemed she just wanted to have me to herself, for awhile.

"There's more space between throbs of pain now and it's not as intense. Something's really wrong inside my body and I can't do anything about it without spending money. There's no one to talk to.

"I'm recording all this so that perhaps as I look through the weeks and months of however long this lasts, I may find a pattern or a clue to what's wrong. We definitely can't afford a doctor. Basically, we can't afford to live. Not knowing is so hard… Unless I'm healed by God I will need to get a wheelchair.".

In the 90's we lived in what was called a "yuppie" community and most of our church was upper middle class – professionals with large houses and high paying jobs. My women friends, at church, would often talk about their deep freezers and how full they were, after stocking up from a bargain at the local store. Although we lived in the community we were sliding downward, fast, even when both my husband and I were working.

I remember hunger… being so hungry that I was tempted to beg from a friend who I knew was throwing away food she didn't want. I didn't ask her, for that would have exposed my husband and it would have caused more trouble.

In those days none of us really knew each other, because all we talked about was decorating our houses, planning the next vacation, new clothes, and bargains.

No one knew I was sick, even though we were at church several times a week. We were all busy with our church programs and our homes. There was very little time to really know each other. We worked hard. As women, we evangelized. We taught Sunday School, Children's Church, and Youth Group. It was all focused on getting our friends and neighbors to COME to our church, the BEST church in town. We knew how to create momentum with splashy programs, guest speakers, and loud Christian contemporary music.

We had men's groups, women's groups, prayer groups, choir practice, orchestra practice, plays and cantatas, along with basket ball hoops in the asphalt parking lot. It was our home away from home… but we really didn't know each other, except for our jobs, houses, vacations, and other measures of success. It put a lot of pressure on my husband, who took it out on me.

As I sit still and listen, this is what I feel Papa God is saying to us:

"I've been misrepresented. Misjudged. Mistreated. As a result, you were misguided. I didn't want your money; I only wanted your hearts.

I couldn't stand your meetings, meetings, and more meetings. I couldn't stand your altar calls and offering calls and volunteer calls. I just wanted you to come Home, to be with me… to live with Me. Heart-to-heart.

Just like your daughter pulled you closer and wanted a longer bedtime ritual, so I want to pull you closer, to have one more minute, one more hour. Whether we talk or not, I just like to be with you.

I throw a party every morning for the early-risers… I spray the awakening sky-screen with a palette of neverending shades of pinks and yellows that move in patterns and declare that each morning is new, fresh, and clean… shimmering with Life. In the evening I invite you to sit with me, as the last vivid hues roll down into the horizon, nearly at the same time as the moon and stars spring forth from their hiding places.

It's a daily dance of Life and more Life. I'm dancing all around you as I sing My songs over you. Like your son delighting you with surprises, holding your hand, and laughing 'hee-hee!' that's all I want from you…. you, happy and whole. I'm always looking for you, always watching for you, just like you do with your children. As happy as you felt to see your daughter's face aglow in the chattering of pre-teens all up and down the aisles, isn't that what REAL LIFE is about, Little One?

Look at the children once again. What makes your heart beat faster? To hear your son and daughter cooing along with the baby, to see the sparkle in your daughter's eyes as she sways to the music of her keyboard?

What would I trade to have you at Home right now, as joyful as the children in the word pictures you've recorded? I'd trade my own life for you.

I don't want your money. I don't need anything. I just want you.

The REAL you.

I want you to be happy being my princess. I am your Bridegroom. It's my job to provide for you, Little One, not the other way around. It's my job to set the world right. But I can't when you are in the way. You think you have to DO it all, but it's already ALL DONE.

I've set the stage for you. There is a part for you to play. But it's not all work and no play.

Just be REAL. Love one another. Put on your carpenter's pants. Get a ladder. Pick up a paintbrush. Take care of each other. Take care of YOU, first.

Take risks, yes… but do it for YOU, because you have a big dream… not because you're told to do it.

Never give up your dreams to build someone else's kingdom.

I'll be with you. I will never leave you or forsake you.

When we give our money to a system… we may be investing into something God is not part of, and therefore, we do not reap a very good harvest. Family is the backbone of society. If we tell our children they must go hungry so that we can give to a church building fund, I believe we are acting unrighteously… and that it is not "faith" to decide to die because you can't afford health care but you can spend money to send missionaries to the foreign field. I believe in abundance. I believe in acts of faith. I believe in taking risks.

But not like we used to do it… instead, like people from Home do it… taking care of our families first. I believe when we have our priorities in order, that we will be fruitful and multiply and there will plenty left over for giving generously. My personal goal is to give away 50% of my income, but I don't call it tithing… it's just the overflow of the Good Shepherd who anoints my head with oil and causes my cup to overflow.

Father's calling us HOME! Home, the safe place…. HOME, the caring place…. HOME, the loving place…. HOME, the fun place…. HOME, the place of intimacy and rest and hope and that is beyond our imagination… because Papa God loves us with a consuming passion that heals us to the core of our being!

Choosing love today,

Sue

Susan Schiller knows how it feels to lose everything: marriage and family, church and reputation, finances and businesses, and more. Susan's upcoming, interactive memoir, "On the Way Home," tells the story of how she came to be known as "the most abused woman" her counselors had yet met and how she learned to navigate her way out of hell to a rich and satisfying life. In her lifetime, Susan has served in duties ranging from home school mom – to pastor –  to full-time deliverance minister – and to Midwest regional prayer coordinator for a large international ministry. These days you can usually find Susan soaking in her favorite hot springs pool, reading a book (or several), blogging, baking bread, or hanging out with her family and friends. You can get a free copy of Susan's upcoming book, "On the Way Home" by registering here.

Copyright 2012, Susan Schiller, http://TeamFamilyOnline.com. Permission is granted to copy, forward, or distribute this article for non-commercial use only, as long as this copyright byline and bio, in totality, is maintained in all duplications, copies, and link references.  For reprint permission for any commercial use, in any form of media, please contact Susan Schiller.

Tagged as: "Love from Papa" Series, Choosing Love Today, Deborah White Dove, Getting Your Life Back, Life Story Writing, Unbuckle Your Christianity, Voice of the Bride