Robbing God

“But you say, ‘How have we robbed you?’ In your tithes and contributions. You are cursed with a curse, for you are robbing me, the whole nation of you. Bring the full tithe into the storehouse, that there may be food in my house.” – Malachi 3:8-10

I can think of people in my life—Dave would be among them—who have the gift of generosity. Who just as easily give away money as keep it. But that is something I’ve historically struggled with. It’s ugly to admit, but I tend to feel entitled to what I earn. A while back, I wrote a piece to myself entitled, “Why does God own everything?” and listed four main reasons: because he created it (“The earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof, the world and those who dwell therein,” Psalm 24:1-2). Because he can take it away at any time (“The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away,” Job 1:21). Because we can’t take it with us after we die (“For we brought nothing into the world, and we cannot take anything out of the world,” 1 Timothy 6:7). And because he enables me to earn what I do. It is only by his grace that I was born a woman in the late 1900’s and not the late 1800’s; that I had a supportive family and educational opportunities; and so on. Deuteronomy 8:17-18 says, “Beware lest you say in your heart, ‘My power and the might of my hand have gotten me this wealth.’ You shall remember the Lord your God, for it is he who gives you power to get wealth.” 

 

God owns everything, and this should change how I live. It does not negate the need for financial wisdom and prudence, but it frees me from anxiety and the desire to control money as a primary means of security. It shoots down my pride. It should lead to greater contentment, freedom from the need to compare what I have with others, and an even greater ability to materially enjoy what I do have. And it should lead me to give willingly, because what I have is not mine but God’s. He means it when he says we rob him when we keep for ourselves what should be accounted as his.

 

Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote, “Earthly goods are given to be used, not to be collected… the disciple must receive his portion from God every day. If he stores it up as a permanent possession, he spoils not only the gift, but himself as well, for he sets his heart on his accumulated wealth, and makes it a barrier between himself and God. Where our treasure is, there is our heart, our security, our consolation, and our God.” My old pastor put it more succinctly: “Money is like manure: if you spread it around, it helps things grow. If you hoard it all in one big pile, it stinks.” Sometimes it’s good to be reminded of these not-so-self-evident truths.

Contentment

“But godliness with contentment is great gain, for we brought nothing into the world, and we cannot take anything out of the world.” – 1 Timothy 6:6-7

“I am content; that is a blessing greater than riches; and he to whom that is given need ask no more.” – Henry Fielding

There is a kind of forced simplicity about our lives right now. A while back, I went through a decluttering phase. I realized that owning something also means storing it, tidying it, cleaning it, thinking about it, caring for it—and that there can be freedom in owning less, in not owning something you don’t necessarily need or use. Sheltering in place has done that with the commodity of time. Our time was consumed with more activities before—and those activities involved not just the event itself, but the commuting time, preparation time, cognitive load surrounding it. Now that we’ve been forced to give most of that up, I’m discovering a simplicity and freedom to our pace of life. We’re able to give what we still do more of our attention, enjoyment and care. We’re able to be present to the unbidden and let slower things flourish.

One of our mentors in Virginia used to say, “if you aren’t content, you can either gain more, or learn to be content with less.” Our desires are not fixed. Our consumeristic, advertising-dominated culture tells us our desires as they are must be met, but that is not true. The truth is, we can change the degree and aim of our desires for food, sex, material things—this is not to say all desires are bad or ought not be attended, of course—but they are more malleable than I think we like to admit. The less we feed our desires, through what we think about or look at or do, the weaker they become. The less we allow ourselves to cope through consumerism, the weaker its grip becomes.

The simplicity of this time, the dream or desire deferred, can in some ways teach us to be content with less. Paul says that when it comes to this material life, we ought to fan our desires for godliness, but be content with simple material things (food and clothing, verse 8). One of them we can take out of this world with us; the other we cannot. Godliness with contentment is great gain.

Spiritual Fitness

“Train yourself for godliness; for while bodily training is of some value, godliness is of value in every way, as it holds promise for the present life and also for the life to come.” – 1 Timothy 4:7-8

People where we moved from in the suburban south talk about losing weight; people in the Bay Area talk about being fit. Yoga pants are considered acceptable general wear. Gyms and parks are numerous and even within walking distance. The weather (and lack of mosquitos) enables an entirely new dimension of outdoor life. Healthy groceries and options for eating out are readily available. Regular exercise is normative behavior, and perhaps it is not surprising that, despite not having had a regular habit of it before, we all became more active after moving here.

But after the pandemic muted subconscious cultural cues and disrupted routines, I’ve had to think through how, and why, I exercise. I’ve relearned why getting my heart rate up is good for my mood. I’ve been reminded that cardiovascular fitness and muscle strength is something that either builds or atrophies over time; there is no middle ground. I’ve had to test my resolve by at times getting creative with workout equipment or online classes, or being disciplined about exercising outside even if I prefer the gym. 

Dave tells his patients that their goal, for improved health outcomes, should be to reach 70-85% of their maximum heart rate for 150 minutes per week. This is not something that happens without significant focus, flexibility, and commitment. It does not happen without intentional investment of resources. How much more so our spiritual health! Paul puts it plainly: spiritual fitness is more important than physical fitness. We should care about it more than we care about our physical health. We should invest more in it than we invest in our physical health. We should create more of a culture and community for it than we do for physical health. His reasoning is simple: your physical health lasts this lifetime. Your spiritual health will impact eternity.

Do you have a clear idea of what your spiritual goals are? Do you have a routine for spiritual fitness? Does someone close to you see measurable signs of spiritual growth over time? Train yourself for godliness, Paul urges Timothy. It holds promise not only for this life, but for the life to come.