SYSTEMATIC GIVING

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Aug 12, 1897

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 23, No. 31.

SYSTEMATIC GIVING.

Aunt Rachel, an old colored woman, had lived with Mr. and Mrs. Allyn for years, whether as mistress or servant of the establishment they could scarcely tell; they only knew that she was invaluable. She had taken a grandmotherly guardianship of all the children, and had a voice in most matters that concerned the father and mother, while in the culinary department she reigned supreme.

Aunt Rachel had strong opinions, especially in the matter of giving to the Lord. “I believe in systematics ’bout such things,” she emphatically said, and out of her own little store she carefully laid aside one-eighth.

“Cause if dem old Israelites was tol’ to give one-tenth, I’d just like to frow in a little more for good measure!” But the friends, so beloved, paid little attention to the old woman’s opinion. “The idea of counting up all one’s income, and setting aside a fixed portion of it for charity, and then calling only what remains one’s own, makes our religion seem arbitrary and exacting; it is like a tax,” said Mrs. Allyn, one day; “and I think such a view of it ought by all means to be avoided. I like to give freely and gladly of what I have when the time comes. Money laid aside beforehand has only a sense of duty and not much feeling about it; besides, what difference can it make so long as one gives what he can when there is a call?

Soon there came a call.

“Came, unfortunately, at a time when we were rather short,” Mrs. Allyn said regretfully. “However, we gave what we could,” she added. “I hope it will do good, and I wish it were five times as much.”

Old Rachel shook her head over that cheerful dismissal of the subject. She shook it many times that morning, and seemed intensely thoughtful, as she moved slowly about her work.

When the dinner hour arrived, both master and mistress scanned the table with wide-open eyes, astonished at the plain and meager fare, so unlike any dinner that had ever before been served in that house.

“What has happened, my dear?” asked the gentleman, turning to his wife.

“I do not know,” she replied, with a questioning glance at Rachel.

“Dat’s all de co’ meat dar was—sorry I didn’t have no more,” she said, half apologetically.

“But I sent home a choice roast this morning,” began Mr. Allyn wonderingly, “and you have no potatoes either—nor vegetables of any kind.”

“A body has to think ’bout it a good while aforehand to get a roast cooked, an’ I thought I’d give ye what I happened to have when de time come, an’ I didn’t happen to have much of nuffin’. O, I forgot the bread!”

“No bread!” murmured Mrs. Allyn.

“No, honey; used it all up for toast dis mornin’. Might have made muffins, if I had planned for ’em long enough, but that kind o’ makes a body feel’s if dey had to do it, an’ I wanted to get dinner for yer all out o’ my warm feelin’s when de time come.”

“When a man has provided bountifully for his household, it seems as if he might expect to enjoy a small share of it himself, even if the preparation does require a little trouble,” remarked Mr. Allyn impatiently.

“Cur’us how things make a body think of Bible verses,” said Rachel musingly. “Dar’s dat one ’bout, ‘Who giveth us all things richly to enjoy,’ an’, ‘What shall I render to de Lord for all his benefits to’ards me?’ Dar! I didn’t put on dem peaches!”

“Dat’s all,” she said, returning with a very few peaches at the bottom of a large basket. “De chil’erns eat a good many, an’ dey was used up one way an’ ’nother. I’se sorry dar a’nt no more, but I hopes ye’ll ’joy what dar is, an’ I wishes ’twas five times as much.”

A look of sudden intelligence flashed into Mr. Allyn’s eyes. He bit his lip for a moment, and then asked quietly:—

“Couldn’t you have laid aside some for us?”

“Well, s’pose I could,” said the old servant, relenting at the tone. “I will next time. Allers thought de folks things belonged to had de best right to ’em; but I’d heard givin’ whatever happened was so much freer an’ lovin’er way o’ servin’ dem ye loves best, dat I thought I’d try it. But it does ’pear’s if dey fared poor, an’ I’ll have to go back to de old plan of systematics.”

“Do you see, George?” questioned the wife, when they were again alone.

“Yes, I see—an object lesson with a vengeance.”

“And if she should be right, and our careless giving seem anything like this!” pursued Mrs. Allyn.

“She is right, Fanny. We call Christ our King and Master, believe that every blessing we have in this world is his direct gift, and all our hopes for the world to come are in him. We profess to be not our own but his, that his service is our chief business; and yet, strangely enough, we provide lavishly for our own apparel, entertainment, and ease, and apportion nothing for the interests of his kingdom or the forwarding of his work, but leave that to any chance pence that may happen to be left after our wants and fancies are gratified. It doesn’t seem like very faithful or loving service.”

There was a long talk over that dinner table—indeed, it did not furnish opportunity for much other employment; and that afternoon husband and wife together examined into their expenses and income, and set apart a certain portion as sacred unto the Lord, doing it somewhat after Rachel’s plan of “good measure.” To do this, they found, required the giving up of some needless indulgences, a few accustomed luxuries. But a cause never grows less dear on account of the sacrifices we make for it, and as these two scanned the various fields of labor in deciding what to bestow here and what there, they awoke to a new appreciation of the magnitude and glory of the work, and a new interest in its success,—the beginning of that blessing pronounced upon those who “sow beside all waters.”—Author Unknown.