Faith is a Verb

July 10, 1956

The tear soaked words of the radio preacher floods into the room, drenching the listening woman and child with desperation. The child looks up at her mother and asks, “Why is he crying?”

“He needs money to keep his radio ministry on the air.” The mother answers without a pause from the task at hand. Four crisp white shirts hang behind her on a hook. One remains in a moistened ball, like sculptor’s clay, waiting for its turn to be transformed. The sixth shirt, draped over the creaking ironing board, submits itself without a fight to the deft experience of the woman’s hand and the steaming heat of the iron.

“Why doesn’t he just use his time to preach about Jesus and let God send him the money?” Says the child, focused on keeping her red crayon marks from straying outside the lines on the coloring book page. She does not notice her mother’s stunned face looking down at her nine-year old daughter.

“Out of the mouths of babes,” the woman whispers.

The child looks up to find her mother’s astonished smile beaming back at her.

“You’re pretty smart, young lady, maybe you should write Brother Roloff a letter.”

“What would I say? I’m just a kid. Why would he listen to me?”
***
December 17, 2004

The woman types the last of the labels and hits the print command. She looks up at the small TV screen and turns up the volume with the remote."What you have here," the evangelist says, "is an opportunity to finance the end time harvest. We are attempting to get a new satellite into orbit that will broadcast the gospel twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week to the Middle East. Dollars equals souls," he continues, "Dollars equals souls." Another man in the background, excited over this new catch phrase echoes his agreement, and enthusiasm, "yes, yes, amen, dollars equals souls."

With the click of the remote, the screen goes black and silent.

Nothing new, under the sun. I should write a letter, the woman thinks to herself, Or not… She turns to respond to the email messenger’s ping, opens it and reads.

dear sister in Christ, i have received the book so fast thanks- i would like to give a small donation on line via credit card. please advise. i am halfway reading the book and it has blessed me so far. i am going through a lot recently with no job and anxious about my next mortgage payment plus i am recovering from respiratory infection. the book is such a blessing to me. I understand what's in the book i just have to put in practice. again thanks and God bless please say a prayer for me and don't forget to email me with the website i can give on line donation to you and if you have it…

The woman closes her eyes and exhales slowly, praying to find the best words to respond. After a moment she types,

Dear, sister, I understand that you want to give something, but I do not believe God wishes for you to go into debt, especially since you are unemployed. There are many things you can do that do not involve using your credit card. I am guessing that you know someone else who needs comfort or time or prayer. God provides funds for this ministry by those whom He appoints. He calls us all to give but only that which we are able. He has all the money He needs. What He wants more is willing, humble hearts. Dollars don’t equal souls, laborers, and the word of God equal souls. Jesus said He needed laborers, the faithful who are willing to sacrifice of themselves, to lay aside their plans for this life, and offer their all to the pursuit of furthering the Kingdom of God. When Jesus sent out the seventy disciples, He commanded them to carry neither moneybag, sack, nor sandals. All they had was Christ’s word, and that was enough for them to go and preach the gospel. Trust and obey and you will know where you can help.

Her finger hovers over the send button long enough for her to ask that the message will be blessed and then she taps it. “Lord,” she asks, “how do I make them understand? Who am I that they should they listen to me?”

The woman prepares two heavy boxes and five smaller packages with the shipping labels and loads them into her trunk. As she drives to the post office she hears the words echoing in her head, carry neither moneybag, sack, nor sandals. She wonders if there is more to faith than simply trusting the unknown.

“You must have had a plan, Father, bigger than we give you credit for, “she prays out loud. “As members of The Body, regardless of our trials or troubles, we must each have something to contribute to the whole, regardless how small it seems to us. Is it faith that finds the truth of this, or truth that calls faith to the quest?”

The woman struggles to enter the building with her heavy boxes and packages when a knobby, wrinkled hand reaches around her to hold the door. “Oh, thank you so much,” she turns to give her assistant a smile. The frayed around the edges elder, flashing a near toothless grin, replies, “Looks like you could use some help, dear.”

“Yes, I could, for sure. And then you come along. You must be an angel.”

“Oh, at’s a new one, never been called an angel afore.” The old man’s weathered face brightens as if a light has clicked on.

“Well maybe no one has ever seen you like God sees you.”

The pair wrestles the heavy burdens into the post office to wait in the long line. When the old man takes his turn at the counter, he can’t find the change he needs to buy his stamps. Frustrated and embarrassed he fumbles in his pockets. The woman steps up and gives him a twenty dollar bill. “Looks like you could use some help, dear,” she pats him on his fragile boney shoulders.

“Now, who’s the angel?” His rheumy eyes threaten to spill over with the salty waters of gratitude.

“Nah, no angel,” she says.

Before she leaves the post office, the woman opens her PO Box and finds two envelopes. One contains nothing but a twenty dollar bill wrapped in plain paper. The other yields a money order for three hundred dollars and a note of praise.

On the way home the woman hears, “You do not need to tell them, show them.”