Stewardship of This One Life

When our backyard apricot tree in Chino, California produced about 10 times as much fruit as we could eat or turn into jam, my mom and I took Stater Bros. bags full of fruit to every doorstep around. We handed bags of fruit to friends at church, and to strangers who were lucky enough to cross our apricot-laden path. When our neighbor had more zucchini than he could consume, zucchini appeared at our house. We might come home to persimmon, kumquats, tamales, or plums on our doormat. Sharing an abundance of food seems so natural.

Sharing from our checkbook seems less natural. It is so disconnected from our lived experience that it takes on a different meaning than passing someone a few tamales. Because the bank account does not rot and stink and attract fruit flies after several days on the kitchen counter, we do not have the same urge to move it along to someone who will enjoy it while it is enjoyable. And yet, we are called to be generous…