Jesus sat down near the collection box in the Temple and watched as the crowds dropped in their money. Many rich people put in large amounts. Then a poor widow came and dropped in two small coins. Jesus called his disciples to him and said, “I tell you the truth, this poor widow has given more than all the others who are making contributions. For they gave a tiny part of their surplus, but she, poor as she is, has given everything she had to live on.” (Mark 12:41-44, NLT)

Jesus’ observation seems almost absurdly out of step with our world. I mean, what financial planner would tell the widow to give the way Jesus praised her for giving? We don’t expect that kind of giving. It isn’t wise, not to mention that her two small coins wouldn’t get her into members-only events at the temple or get her name engraved on a brick or stone.

Did she give because of the well-run temple? Because she liked the priests? Because of the beauty of the temple building itself? Or did she give because she knew someone who was even worse off than she herself? Had she been waiting to give until the priests did things the way she thought they ought to be done?

The gospel writer described her as a “poor widow.” Two strikes against her. She was the one in need. In just a few years, the apostles would focus on caring for people like her in the newly born church. And a few years later, the temple would be destroyed.

That widow was no more in step with the giving of her own time as with ours. Yet perhaps her greatest need at that moment was what prompted her to give, and it didn’t have anything to do with the temple.

She wasn’t in step with the world she lived in, but she was in step with the heart of God.

When I served with Russian Ministries and we had summer camp ministries in Russia, I got to know an elderly lady, a retired missionary, who attended College Church. She walked her donation for the camp outreach to the mission's office rather than mail it in. She gave enough to send at least one child to camp. For her, this gift was personal and from the heart.

A few years later, I was getting ready to go on one of our STAMP trips as part of that same camping outreach. The retired missionary lady enthusiastically gave toward the trip.

She wasn’t a widow. She had never been married. As I got to know her, I realized what an amazing and unrecognized lifetime of service she had given to God.

But you kind of had to find that out along the way. She wasn’t interested in people knowing the triumphs of her life—and God had used her overseas in some amazing ways. Now, she wanted me to know that she cared. She was genuinely excited about the kids and wanted to give. The gift she gave was monetary, but a lot more. Her humility, excitement to be a part of God’s work and her spirit of service shined brightly.

And there she was, this time wanting to give her gift not to the mission’s office, but into my hands, to give to the trip.

There are many reasons to give or not give. But the spirit of the widow Jesus praised and this missionary who befriended me amaze me.

The widow Jesus praised wasn’t a parable. She was a real person. She gave real money, the last she had, to a real institution. She would be one of the people we would say ought not to give. But maybe it wasn’t the institution she was giving to at all, but the God of all things, her maker, creator, redeemer and friend.

Where did the widow get her next meal? What happened? Is there ever a time when it’s bad to give more to God?

That retired missionary lady has moved away. I think of her often. She had such joy when she gave her money away. I am confident that if she is still alive, she is more and more like Jesus in what she gives away. And that doesn’t even get at her faithful prayer support for us and many others.

I don’t think they teach this stuff in Bible college or seminary. But Jesus didn’t shy away from it.

Think of the rich young ruler who went away sad because of Jesus' admonition to give his wealth away to the poor. Think of the alabaster jar of pure nard that Judas, the keeper of the money, thought should have been sold and given away to the poor. He thought of it as a terrible waste poured out on Jesus before he paid the ultimate price and gave more than any of us ever will. And he wasn't the only one.

We were watching a news program a few days ago and the talking heads were talking about how a second stimulus check may be coming.

Really? Probably not, I thought at the time. It’s such a crazy time, isn’t it.

As we watched together, Lorraine said, “If that happens, let’s just give it to the church.”

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “Good idea.”

I confess, while her head was going there, I was thinking about using it to get a new front door. If you saw our door, you’d know what I mean. So I don’t have it all figured out. But the spirit of the widow, and the missionary lady, I don’t know . . .

There’s something about giving and living the way they did that doesn’t make sense in this world. Yet their examples are a crying out “Yes” from somewhere that’s not in this here-and-now great and wondrous world, but from a different place than we naturally know.

Like a master washing the feet of his servants.

Like thousands eating lunch from one boy’s lunch where the baskets of leftovers are far more than the few fish and loaves they started with.

Or like the empty net cast on the other side, filling with so many fish that the net starts to break. That’s crazy. I mean, why?

Most out of step of all, the king of heaven leaving the splendor and wonder of it all to be born in a manger, to die forsaken and alone, some of the last words spilling out of his mouth like the blood from his side, “Forgive them.”

Jesus, help us break the alabaster jar, whatever that means, and pour it out in worship—never looking back, not looking at others, only gazing at you. All for you, sweet carpenter, fisher of people, gentle shepherd. Master. Friend. God who saves us from the cares of this world and walks before us into today and tomorrow and all that is to come.