There’s No Accounting for Generosity

We are a people of numbers - have you ever noticed? We count how many calories we eat, and how many we burn with exercise. We count our steps, and the number of minutes of exercise we should do each day. We count how many miles per hour we need to travel in our car to get to our destination, often seeking the “fastest route” because we are also counting the minutes we’ve got to get there. We count fat grams and carb grams. We number how many minutes it takes us to run a mile; or how many miles we can walk or run in any given time measure we think is important. We tally how many minutes we can dedicate to a meeting or to a phone call before we move on to the next important appointment, and may even count the number of appointments we can squeeze into a day. We count down the days to Christmas or to graduation or to retirement. We tally how much money in our savings; how much money we owe; how much money to budget so we can have bigger numbers in savings and retirement accounts.

We are obsessed with numbers. We have become expert life-accountants, accounting for each calorie, each second, each day, each dollar. And in our obsession, we’ve lost sight of the goal. We are buried in our numbers and can’t see life itself unfolding around us.

I see this especially when we are confronted with the needs of so many people around us - with the needs of our neighbors, with those far away. We see the numbers of people in need, and count what we have, and and conclude the numbers don’t add up. We become overwhelmed and turn away. I think in our counting frenzy to live full-out, we have failed to grasp that there’s no accounting for generosity. You cannot tally the mathematics of a generous heart; it does not compute.

I was faced head-on with this a few days ago while scrolling through Facebook. I came across a post by a ministry that serves in the Middle East, ministering to refugees fleeing from war-torn countries, as well as those faced with natural disasters. I know the ministry; I know this person, so I naturally stopped and read the post. The post was seeking donations to help the people of Pakistan following the recent severe flooding. There was a “contribute” button there, as well as a couple of other buttons if you wanted to contribute to other parts of their ministry in other Middle-Eastern countries. I scrolled on by… then stopped short.

Why did I pass this by? I know the person who runs the ministry; she is a loving, giving, caring mature Christian who puts her life on the line each and every day to make the lives of others better. Wy did I just pass by? What was it about my action that troubled me so? I’ve spent several days untangling the mess of thoughts, feelings, and rationalizations, as well as a myriad of other emotions that have swirled in response to this - and this is what I’ve concluded:

I believe I was doing a private, whispered accounting of my generosity to date - not that I don’t have the means to contribute to this ministry at this time for this reason: no. I was counting up the dollars I’ve given to this ministry; and to other ministries and missionaries. I was tallying my weekly tithes and offerings at church; and the spontaneous gifts I’ve given to this person riding for cancer; or that person walking for Alzheimer’s; or that organization who is fundraising for my grandchildren’s extracurricular activities in their schools. And it isn’t because my gifts are all that large, but I was feeling overwhelmed with the need; paralyzed by the enormity of the world’s hurting, the homeless, the broken-hearted. I was feeling there were too many needs and not enough provision. I was feeling a bit resentful, if I’m honest; when would all the needs be met? Was there even enough resource in the world to ever satisfy the need?

I was dead in my tracks, stuck - and it broke my heart. But it also shook me up.

In my reflections I’ve come to realize that generosity, at its deepest center, is not about the numbers, it’s about the need of others and my need to respond. I’ve realized - with great relief and not a little chagrin - that one cannot tally generosity like we do everything else, because it’s not about how much we give, to whom we give, or what we give. Generosity is simply about giving.

If I stop counting and worrying if what I’m giving is enough, or whether the cause I’m supporting is worthy; if I refuse to count the number of dollars and cents and minutes and hours I give - then all that’s left in the end is the generous act itself, and a recipient who’s life has been changed; maybe in some small way, but changed nonetheless. And in God’s hands, that generous act transforms not only the receiver, but the giver as well. It is much like the multiplication of the loaves and fish in the Gospels; the small boy only gave 2 loaves and 5 fish - and yet thousands were fed.

The accounting of generosity is like that; it doesn’t add up, but it multiplies out far beyond our understanding. In my initial analysis of my giving, I forgot that true generosity is never about the giver or even the receiver. It is always about the act itself that is performed in love, with full confidence that God will bless that generosity in ways I cannot see. It is about trusting that my small $1 bill in the homeless person’s empty coffee can is something. It’s NOT nothing, but an act that tells the other, “I see you. You matter.” It is having faith that God will use my gift, regardless of size, and transform the world, one generous act at a time. It’s a big ask, this type of trust and faith. But then again, I serve a big God.