*Sigh*

I saw something disturbing this morning.

I think I do a decent job of keeping my political preferences low on the radar. I don't hide them, but I also don't shove them in other people's faces. I don't list them on the social networking site referred to by many RevGals as Spacehook. I don't want my politics to be a barrier to relationship with those who don't share my opinions.

Which is why I found it especially disturbing that a bumper sticker reading, "Yes! I want [last name of the person inaugurated on January 20, 2009] to fail!" was on a vehicle in my church parking lot.

It's one thing to see something like that in traffic. It's in poor taste no matter where it is, and no matter who you voted for. But I saw this sticker where my community of faith gathers. That's what disappoints me. As if we don't have enough barriers to people understanding that our God is a god of love, we have a message that flat-out wishes ill on someone who is trying to do his job.

And, in my opinion, if that person fails at his or her job, the entire country fails along with him or her. So if you agree with that bumper sticker, you're also wishing for my failure and your own.

When someone I don't like is holding political office, I grumble, but I also pray for the person in leadership. The decisions they must make involve factors that I have no idea even exist. That job is difficult beyond belief.

So, am I supposed to say anything? The owner of that truck and I have a long history of seeing the world in different ways. Yet we've been members of the same church for nearly a decade now. It's seems like it's getting more difficult, though. He hasn't been coming to worship very much, and I suspect it's because he disagrees with some people in leadership. I refuse to shut myself off like that. It's a choice I make, and it's not always an easy one, but God created us to love others.

Even when others are behaving in ways that embarrass us.

Tough talk

So, I volunteered us (The Alpha and me) to give a talk during our church's annual stewardship focus (for the uninitiated, that's the church version of the public television pledge drive). Our turn is one week from today.

Typically, people have been sharing what our faith community means to them, and maybe a little about giving.

The Alpha and I have strong opinions about what this faith community means to us. It means a great deal to us. We could have found various excuses or opportunities over the years to give up and walk away from it. Others have, but we haven't. That's not who we are.

The investments we make in this faith community mean a great deal to us, too. This is the place where we really began to understand that our lives and our money can make a positive difference in the world. That we really do have the power to help feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and care for the sick. That it really is our job to do all those things.

I think where The Alpha and I tend to get bogged down, though, is that we notice all the ways in which we aren't, as a church community, living up to our potential. The average United Methodist gives less than 2 percent of his or her annual income. He and I realized years ago that we could do better than that, and started moving toward tithing -- giving 10 percent of our incomes. Now that we are tithing, it seems easy. It took years of working up to that goal to reach it, though. We want to encourage others to do the same... which is where the urge to rant begins:

We want to say, Seriously, y'all. Come. ON. Isn't our church community worth more than an average of 2 percent of our incomes? Don't y'all like having electricity in this pretty new building we moved into last year? Wouldn't you love it if the youth didn't come before you to beg for money for their mission trip? If we all gave up front, they wouldn't have to do that.

My personal favorite example of misplaced effort is the church auction [which, this year, is the night before The Alpha and I are speaking to the congregation]. People spend a lot of time planning, gathering donations, and working really hard so we can essentially convince ourselves to give a few thousand more dollars to ourselves -- in the form of moving it from our own bank accounts to the church's account. What if all that time and work could be used on mission instead? If we all really took a hard look at where our money goes, we wouldn't need extra funds from a church auction, or a variety show, or a chili supper, or any other kind of fund raiser. Instead, we'd have the time we spend on those events freed up... to do more ministry!

As The Alpha likes to say, "This church has all the money it needs to carry out any number of ministries. The trick is getting it out of people's pockets."

Abundance, y'all. The vast majority of our congregation has it. There are people all around us who we could be reaching with the love of Christ if y'all would quit pretending you're poor when you come to church, but that you're rich when you go to the mall.
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But I'm guessing all that shame would backfire on us.

I've got to quit fantasizing about grabbing people by the scruff of the neck, demanding to see last year's income tax statement, showing them how to calculate 10 percent of that number, and rearranging their checkbooks so it works out. That isn't our job.

That isn't our job. That isn't our job. That isn't our job. Really, it isn't. So we're not going to do it. It isn't our job.

Ideas for how to do what is our job, anyone?

Overheard less than 3 weeks ago...

The Scene: Swanky high-dollar restaurant which we have no business entering, save that a friend of a friend's large gift certificate won at a charity auction was about to expire

From the conversation at the next table: "I don't see what the big deal is. The economy's just fine!"

Physical restraint was nearly required to keep The Alpha from getting up from his calamari, grabbing and shaking a complete stranger and hollering, "Sure, if you're RICH!"

Our table's point has now been proven, we believe.