When I was a child of around nine or ten, I lived on a street named South Abbie, in the poorest neighborhood of Empire, California. We lived next to a migrant worker’s camp at the end of the street and the house we lived in was in a cluster of rented houses near the end of the street. We had only moved to the house in the past six months, and right behind my house, there were some neighborhood boys who became my good friends. They were the Wallaces and they were what I recall to be a very religious family.
I recall my friend’s parents being very strict to their boys, but they were always nice to me. The two things I easily recall about their family was their discipline, because when the boys would get into trouble, their parents made the boys get a “switch” from the walnut trees outside their house so they could spank them. The second thing I remember the most about them was when I was unable to play with the boys. I would knock on their door and they would answer the door very quietly, because their mother would get migraines and was pained by noises of any kind. I didn’t know what migraines were back then, but I knew she couldn’t function well and the boys would always look desperately sad when she had them.
One Sunday, I attended church with the Wallaces. My parents never went to church, but they didn’t mind if I went with my new friends. The church was in Ceres, California, which was a half an hour drive from our house. I remember I had just received my weekly allowance for mowing our lawn the Saturday before, so I had some money in my pocket, a grand total of $2.50. It was the first time I had been to church in California, we had only moved there in the past year, so I was nervous about being with my new friends and their parents. When we got to the church and were in the middle of service, the offering plate was passed around. I quietly asked my friend’s parents what it was for. They simply said that they put money as an offering to the Lord in the plate, which looked more like a basket. In my child’s mind, I thought they would give it back at the end of church, so I put in all my money into the offering plate. I still recall feeling very nervous and scared about giving them all my money, especially since I had brothers and they weren’t so willing to give it back if they got a hold of it.
After service, I sheepishly asked my friend’s parents, “when do they return the money?” They laughed and said they didn’t return the money, and that the money was given to the Lord! I recall beginning to cry. I just gave away my whole week’s allowance and I had plans for it! The Wallace family comforted me and said that the money is now the Lord’s, but because I was faithful by giving the money, especially all of my money, into the offering that it would multiply ten times and return to me, because God was good. I was still scared.
That message really stuck with me. I was expecting to see something that day. I was excited! And throughout the week, I pondered what they had said and wondered, “when”? It was one night, while my brother Dave and I stopped at the local stop-and-save convenience store, that the promise came back to me. While walking back to the car, I saw a wad of rolled up bills. I grabbed the money. No one was around. No cars, no people, just my brother and me. So I picked up the money and put it in my pocket. I nervously but quickly counted the money and it just happened to be $25.00. The most money I had ever had in my entire life, and it was mine!
The Lord is faithful. He is good, and He is kind. I was just a kid, but that money miracle just happened to be 10 times the money I had given to the church offering plate earlier that week. Part of me felt guilty, as though I stole the money from God because the money returned to me and part of me felt shameful, because someone had dropped that money and likely missed it very much. It is said that God works in mysterious ways, but I don’t buy that, and I reject the guilt and feeling bad, because while the money was from Him, the guilt and shame isn’t!
The words of our Bible tell us how God works. He works through love, compassion and faith. The Lord had compassion on me that week, when I was just a little boy. He also taught me real lessons, which was to give generously and it will be given generously back and trust in the Lord with everything you have. And though I had seen such an amazing miracle as a young child, my later years of life tried to explain away and rob me of my first miracle from God. It wasn’t until these past few years that I have begun to re-believe the miracles and gifts God gives us as a youth and even now. God restored the memory of this miracle and even while I wrote this blog post out, He restored the sights, smells, memories, and thoughts I had nearly 40 years ago. He is so good!
The first servant reported, ‘Master, I invested your money and made ten times the original amount!’
Luke 19:16
Have you lost memories of the goodness of God? Can you recall the miracle moments in life you have experienced? I would love to hear about them! When we share stories such as these, they glorify our Father in Heaven. They allow our hearts to heal and to recall the special moments we have shared with our Lord. He is so good!
Blessings to you this day. You are loved!