Widow's Mites.

I held the cash loosely in my hand, touched by the man's generosity. Tall, well-built, clean cut, he offered only a first name, saying he was part of a ministry down the street. Delighted to meet a fellow minister in the service of Christ, I tried to remember if I had heard of it before. I was mildly confused as he explained the gift he had just slipped into my hand came from a small weekly stipend - his only source of income. Most ministries are able to compensate their leaders appropriately if they ask for full commitment. 

  

The lobby of the church cleared out as people hurried home to cook dinner or find a table at their favorite restaurant. My stomach growled, reminding me of the time. I was privileged to talk about my ministry with ICI during the morning service and had been meeting people afterwards. One of the things I learned growing up: the missionary nearly always leaves last. In a way, I felt I was carrying on a family legacy. I packed up my brochures and prayer cards as I waited for the family who had invited me to lunch.

I opened my hand discreetly and unfolded the gift. Two dollar bills sat in my palm. My curious thoughts suddenly stilled and tears welled in my eyes. What he had told me and snippets of conversation from those around me connected as it dawned on me. This man was not a leader in the ministry. He was part of the ministry, a transition ministry that helps people get back on their feet from the living on the streets or in prison. He was only given a few dollars a week, yet he gave to me, to God's work through ICI. The widow and her two mites rose in my mind and I heard Christ's words of approval, "this poor widow has put in more than all the others." 

I am so humbled. 

Do two dollars even make a difference? Yes. They make all the difference in the world.