I remember that Sunday morning well. It was the day I discovered I was selfish and that a mother could be disappointed in her son.

I wasn’t a bad kid… As a young boy, growing up in the suburbs of Los Angeles, very near East Compton, we attended a little conservative church in Paramount. It’s hard to think of anything as “little” or “conservative” in California, but these were the 70’s… it was a little different back then. The church we went to was a church’s, church. You know, like a man’s, man. Everything about it was classic 1950’s Andy Griffith church. Wooden pews, pulpit in the middle of the stage… a wooden hymn board that logged attendance, offering totals and the page numbers of the songs that would be sung during the morning service. It even had the Jordan River painted on the wall above the baptistery… (I recently traveled to the Jordan River and I must say, that painting above the baptistery looked nothing like the Jordan river in Israel). Lastly, sandwiched between pulpit and pews was a wooden table with the words, “Do this in remembrance of Me.”

Among the many things we did during service, each week our little church took part in the Lords Supper. The “Lord’s Supper,” in my opinion, was and is today, one of the hardest things for any child growing up in church. It’s the time where confirmed believers get to hear about and remember Jesus’ sacrifice. Believers break unleavened bread, which represents Christ’s broken body on the cross and drink grape juice from a cup, which represents Christ’s blood that was shed for us. I’ll not go into much more detail theologically here… There’s far more theology and doctrine in the small definition above than I’m willing to give. However, I would like to share with you the view of a young boy who sat week after week in wooden pews on Sunday morning during communion.

It seemed as if breakfast came WAY to early on Sunday mornings… There was hardly any time to enjoy a bowl of cereal and watch cartoons. Which was fine, because Sunday morning didn’t have the cartoons like Saturday morning did… but that’s another story. Anyhow, after our quick breakfast, my mother would gather my two sisters and I to the car and we would begin our journey to church. On occasion, only if we had time, we would stop by the corner market on our way to church and grab a treat. I’m still not sure why we stopped, but on occasion, we did. I remember walking into the corner market that housed nine foot tall shelves of candy, chocolates and treats. I knew they were nine feet tall because they towered above my head like the felt images of David standing against the giant Goliath that I had seen in Sunday school. My mom would reach to the top of these nine foot shelves and grab a roll of mints or a pack of gum, usually juicy fruit, buy it, and then race back to the car and head towards church.

I admit, I like Juicy Fruit gum, but my favorite was “Fruit Stripe” gum. You know, the one with the Zebra. “Fruit stripe chewing gum for kids in five juicy flavors: cherry, lemon, lime, mixed fruit and orange?” Yup, that’s the one. It was always a treat to get Fruit Stripe gum. But this Sunday, the day I discovered I was selfish, there was not stopping at the corner store. It was just a drive to church.

We went to Sunday school, made our formal greetings between class and church service and then the songs began, which meant no talking, it was time to take your seat. I knew the routine… Two songs, prayer, song… communion, sermon, song, a long prayer and then we get to go home and play. I made it past the two songs, prayer, song part of the service and like clockwork, my stomach knew that there was about to be food passing by known by all as communion. Ugh! An unfed stomach can make a lot of noise in a young boy. Especially when he opens his mouth. Oh the cruelty of passing around crackers and grape juice in small cups for adults and not for kids. I would have believed anything you told me to get my hands on one of those delicious morsels of unleavened goodness. And the mini cups of grape juice… I mean, how cool were those little cups? We didn’t have anything like that at home.

As my childhood nerves were about to be shot, at the anticipation of communion, my mother suddenly distracted me with more pennies than my two small hands could hold. She told me to hold these pennies for the offering that would soon be collected AFTER communion. She told me that if I behaved I could keep some pennies for myself and we could go to the store after church.

I wish you could have seen it. I sat there more quite than a tree that falls in the forest when nobody is around… like the sound of one hand clapping… I didn’t move or say a word. My hands clenched those copper gems of Abe Lincoln as they seemed to burst between my short fat fingers. I knew I had about a million dollars… just enough to buy some Fruit Stripe gum. The cracker and juice cup passed without me breaking my gaze on my new fortune… and then it happened.

The check was due and the plate, which was passed around for the offering, was headed down my row. My mother held before me the collection plate, which was shiny like gold with red felt on the bottom center. She gave me the “look” which was the green light to place some pennies into the collection plate. I’m not sure if it happened quickly or not, but it seemed like a loooong time to me. This beautiful round metal plate hovered in front of me like a UFO waiting to lock its tractor beam on my pennies. I placed one of my clinched fist over the red target and dropped them… “CLANK… CLANK! The two pennies I had managed to drop, one at a time, hit the side metal rim and bounced into the middle where other coins, pieces of paper and even some DOLLAR bills where.

My mother gave me the “look.”

I placed my other hand over this round treasure chest and dropped a couple more, hitting the felt and making much less noise than before.

I didn’t think it was possible, but my mother gave me the “look” again and it was worse than the first.

It suddenly clicked in my small head that she intended for me to give most of what was in my hands to this plate and keeping only a few pennies for myself. I looked up at her as she held the shiny gold plate, I sat back in my seat and put my hands in my lap… holding all the pennies close, minus the four I had dropped into the offering plate. Who could be mad at me? I didn’t even get the cracker and juice cup… why did I have to pay for it? I had bigger plans… something better than crackers and tiny cups of grape juice. (although, I really like grape juice) I would soon have my own pack of Fruit Stripe gum.

Then my mother passed the plate on.

I knew what I had done was wrong. My mother’s look was different. Moments before she had given me something with expectation. I think she was looking forward to seeing me dump a handful of pennies into the offering plate. When I didn’t… well, her disappointment showed and I knew it in my heart. I clutched my pennies… I thought, “I’ll share some of my gum with my friends.” My head sank low into my chest. My two fists full of coins seemed more heavy than before. My hands were sweating and the tight grip I had began to ache my fingers. I wasn’t sure how I could hold on to them much longer. Then something else happened. My mother opened her purse and pulled out a brand new package of Fruit Stripe gum. My hands were so full, I couldn’t have grabbed for the package of gum even if I wanted to. Something was happening and I could feel it in my bones. I was selfish.

Now, I know there shouldn’t be any talking when the preacher is preaching, but my mother started talking to me in church. I’m not sure if there was anyone else in that little white church building at that moment, but my mom said to me, “God has given you everything… He wants you to be a giver back. When you hold things too tight, God cannot give you anything else because your hands are closed.” I’m not sure if she sang it or spoke it, but she told me that, “Love is like a lucky penny, hold it tight and you won’t have any. Give it away and you’ll have plenty. You’ll end up having more.”

I wish I could have dropped every single penny to the ground. It might not sound like much of a story, but it was a colossal shaping for a young boy like me. It changed my story.

I’ll never forget that moment in church. By the grace of my mom, I was given a chance to give more of my plunder to the offering after church. I was also given an orange piece of Fruit Stripe gum. I think I ended up with the whole pack, because no one else in my family likes it. Because of that day, I want to always remember to give. Every time I give with an open hand, God gives me more than ever before.

Let’s be givers. Not because we get back… Let’s give because we were made to be givers.

Peace.
Johno~

CONTEST ALERT!
So here’s the deal… are you living with closed fists or open hands? It’s time for you and I to share what gifts God has given us.

The contest I’m offering is this: you tell me what gifts God has given you and how you can share them and I’ll add your name in the drawing bucket. If you win, you’ll get two prizes. One for you and another you can use for a giveaway on your blog or just give it to a friend.

THE PRIZE – TWO (2) original unframed, signed photographs from my recent trip to Uganda.

Here’s what to do:
Leave a comment in this post with your “name” and “your gift/talent” that you would share and I’ll add your name to the bucket. Comment as much as you like, but only one comment will be selected with your name. If you would like a double shot at winning, then send one of your friends over here to leave a comment. If they win they just might share with you the second prize. If you would really like one more “extra” shot at getting your name in the hat, join me on twitter. lightexposure. If you’ve already hooked up with me on twitter, then retweet this post and I’ll throw your name in one more time.

I hope this is clear, but if it’s not, shoot me an email.