I grew up in a place where most people lived a very simple life. Very few families within our community of 1200 would have been classified as having an upper middle class income and lifestyle. Of course there were those who were educated and had professional careers; some had technical training of some kind and then there were the ones simply born into large, established farming and/or ranching families that afforded them a good living. Neither my mom or dad had a college education nor did they have any technical training and also, neither came from money. Although I didn’t know it at the time, we probably met the classification of the working poor since my dad was a sharecropper and when he wasn’t in the fields, he built grain storage buildings for extra income—he probably never made more than a few dollars an hour.

I’m sure my parents struggled financially but they made sure we had food, a place to live and I had clothing and at least one new pair of shoes for school every year. As a very young child I don’t recall “knowing” we were living a very modest lifestyle but by the time I was 7 or 8, I became aware of the fact that we didn’t have much money. I wasn’t bothered or concerned but I could see there were many who lived much differently than us—some better off some not. I guess the school bus ride each day was the catalyst for this socioeconomic observation. Bus number 3 was my ride to and from elementary school each day but it was the hour ride home each afternoon that etched scenes into my memory that are as clear today as they were all those decades ago as I sat on the bus staring out the window.

Because I lived in a rural, farming community the bus routes contained at least a few treacherous dirt roads that were pocked with huge holes and deep ruts from tires and rain washout. I clearly remember two families who lived at the end of these types of rollercoaster roads. I also clearly remember the jeering and laughter of some of the kids on the bus each day as we pulled up to the shanties that were the homes of these children. They were the children of some of the poorest of the poor in the community and they were mercilessly taunted because of that fact. I remember feeling bad for them and deep down I began to also fear losing what little we had and becoming the fodder for humiliation. Fifty years later I guess I still do.

There existed an interesting dichotomy at this point in my life. As I became cognizant of the differences in socioeconomics so to speak, I also heard over and over how my dad was the kind of man who would “give you the shirt off his back.” I knew the gist concerning this statement. I knew my dad was loved in the community and seen as a man who was willing to help anyone in any way he could. He didn’t have much but he gave anyway. He must have sacrificed his time, effort and perhaps even money to the point that he was known as a shirt off his back kind of guy. I learned wealth isn’t necessary in order to give. A willing heart is.

A recent opportunity to help a friend brought these memories flooding back to the forefront of my mind. In the midst of the situation, I heard the Holy Spirit whisper to my soul, “live a shirt off your back life.” In other words, give sacrificially and often. I doubt my dad had the means to give monetarily at least not often, but he gave what he had—himself. He gave away his compassion, his talents, and his love for others.

I’m afraid even in our Christian community we think more in terms of “if you rub my back, I’ll rub yours” because we fear being taken advantage of. Well there will always be those who take advantage of others’ generosity but we are called to give anyway—I believe we are called to live a shirt off your back life.

Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a few cents.

Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on.”

(Mark 12:41-44 NIV)

Amen.

C. Deni Johnson