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All Saint's Sunday, November 7, 2010

Richard’s recent letter to the congregation was a bold step in demystifying “talking about money.”   I admit that I have always had a conflicted view of money and wealth.  Growing up we never, never talked about it except how careful we needed to be when spending it.  My dad, who was born in 1931, was shaped by the depression.  He surrounded himself with music, automobiles and other items from the 1920’s and 30’s.  The mind-set of waste not, want not, fix it, do it yourself, don’t ask for help, save it, don’t throw it away, it is still good is in my DNA.

A problem with this thinking of self-reliance is the feeling that this bounty, these gifts are all the results of our efforts.  They’re not!  All we have, and all we have received are gifts from God.   We are only caretakers during our time here.

This week is the anniversary of my confirmation in the Episcopal Church.  My first contribution to this church (long overdue) was that of my time.  Many things around the church seemed to need attention and it was something I felt I could do.  So I did.  And the more I did, the easier it became to volunteer.  Even if your checkbook is on life support (like mine usually is) there are ample opportunities to contribute to our church.  Here are a few: mowing & grounds, making coffee & fellowship goodies, greeting, reading (lectoring), powerpoint, committing to a year of service on one of our committees (finance, worship, outreach, audit) or committing to a three year term of service on our Bishop’s Committee, hopefully to be soon called “Vestry”.

Time is valuable.  We “know not the measure of our days,” but we each get 24 hours each day.  And to a certain extent, we each have some control on how we can deliberately and intentionally control how we spend this time.  Could you spend 6 minutes of every hour ((2 hours and 24 minute of your day (10%)) of your waking day in prayer, helping others, being a Christian in the world or simply smiling while possibly “entertaining angels in our midst.”

“A journey begins with a single step.”

Ok, money.  There I said it.  We are stewards of what we have been given, or as my dad would say we’ve earned.  Spend it wisely.  As we do with our time.  Be intentional.  Be deliberate.  And be faithful.

For me, giving of the first fruits of my labors works best.  The day I get my paycheck, I write a check to the church.  Some weeks it is a bigger check than others, but that is what I try to do.  Give money its due, but don’t let it have power over you.  Have plan.  Pledge!

And for all of you saints of the church, thank you for your time!

Stewardship has been much on my mind lately.  I have been thinking about what I give to the Church of Our Saviour and, conversely, what does Our Saviour give to me?

This train of thought takes me back to the year 2003.  I had a good job as a government contractor in Oak Ridge, Tennessee, the town where I grew up, the town where I raised my two children and the town where I had dear friends and a church that I loved. I was already 62 years old and looking forward to retiring there in a couple of years.

Then, I got that phone call from Mike, my big boss who was based in Frederick, Maryland. “Sandra, we have a new contract in Richmond, KY, and we would like you to move up there and work on that project.”

“Well, I don’t know,” I said, trying to think of how I would talk my way out of this one.

“I’d really like you to go up there and look around, see how you like it,” he said.

So I drove up here one beautiful fall day.  Everywhere I went, people were welcoming and friendly. The fall colors were spectacular.  I liked the look of the place.

But, I had elderly parents who lived just outside Oak Ridge and I was concerned about leaving them. I had a nice condo where I had made my nest and intended to stay.

But many of you know that when the company wants you to take a new assignment that “No” is not a very good answer.

So, in December of 2003,  I left my nice condo, my friends, the church that I loved and my elderly parents to move 150 miles up the road. One of my first priorities was to find the Episcopal Church.  I asked a local realtor.  He said, “Well, there used to be an Episcopal Church, but there isn’t one anymore.”