Receive with an Open Heart

Not that I desire your gifts; what I desire is that more be credited to your account. I have received full payment and have more than enough. I am amply supplied, now that I have received from Epaphroditus the gifts you sent. They are a fragrant offering, an acceptable sacrifice, pleasing to God.

-Philippians 4:17-18

An unusual transaction in my bank account.

            I didn’t go in and add money, but there it was, more than what I had the day before. A gift, apparently, from a donor for my adventure and to sustain me until I get my first paycheck at the end of the month. My parents relayed this to me, because they somehow took a few of my deposit slips from my bank book before I left. My body recoiled against the news- how dare they deal with my account and go in and add a sum to my account without my knowledge or permission! I burned with red hot anger and my pride ruffled and rampaged on the defensive. I’m a grown woman, and I don’t need pity offerings to keep me on my feet because I’ve chosen the road less traveled for the past few years and made just enough to break even.

            I rushed out a check for the amount back and slipped it into a letter I wrote to home. I mailed it and told them to remember and tell whoever sent it that I would not accept handouts.

I don’t like to receive.

            I don’t want to take charity from anyone, but I am stuck with nothing to do but accept what I have no control over. Receive the kindness of strangers, the offering of time and homes and meals. Receiving gifts family and friends send, monetary and otherwise.

            It’s been a struggle for years. I like to give, hate to receive. I hate to use the word hate because it has such strong, vibrant implications, but all of me cries against the gifts that show up on my doorstep with no return address.

I’m bad at accepting things. Always have been. I don’t even know why. I love to make others happy, like to surprise them with a small something- a cup of coffee, a beautiful journal waiting for their thoughts and ideas, a note of encouragement to tell them how beautiful they are. I love showering them with love in a way I pray portrays God’s love and how special they truly are in His sight. I don’t like others to think of me. I am simply God’s servant, doing my tasks for Him as is my duty. I do not expect, nor look for, anything in return. Which is why at the first sign of generosity my guard goes up and I back myself in a corner, ready to spring.

I’ve railed against this act throughout my life, and it’s noted most closely by my family. As my mom likes to joke with a sad truth to her tone, “It’s a wonder you’ve been able to accept God’s grace in Christ.”

That’s a true statement, and it makes me think. Has there been a time where I have readily or eagerly accepted a gift? Have I opened cupped hands, cherishing the object or kind word lovingly placed in my palms?

            How can I be so resistant while others take so freely, almost to the point of greed? They think nothing of the action and I sit and mull it over and brace myself for the resistance that coils so electric inside me.

Call it undiscovered pride, call it stubbornness or a blinding false belief. Or just plain believing a lie. I can make it on my own. I don’t need help. I can’t let anyone give me something because it will make me look like a freeloader.

A few days after sending the letter home my family received my returned check and gave me a call. I tried to keep my voice down while discussing the offering. Then I found out who it was from and wept. My heart softened at the thought and care and generosity that this person carefully constructed to provide me. Because this person loved me, because I was off on my own venturing into this new life God has called me to, because of what I mean to them, they wanted to show me the same kindness I’ve shown to them through the years.

My family tore up the check and I am keeping this sweet offering. And after my tantrum, when the emotion flees from my body and I sit mentally crumpled in surrender in my room, a thought comes to me, quiet but poignant.

In refusing the gift, I refuse the giver. In turning away a great offering that takes time, thought and effort on the part of the person offering, I do them a disgrace and say they are not worthy of my acceptance, that if I turn away whatever it is they stand before me holding, I am not allowing them into my heart, I am not allowing them to show me this same love of God that I strive to share.

God loves a cheerful giver. But He also smiles upon a cheerful receiver. One who knows where the gift comes from and willingly acknowledges His presence in the present. One who looks upon the giver and sees the heart inside the act, the quiver of excitement in sharing the moment and seeing the delight shine in grateful eyes. To give is to receive, but to receive offers up a selfless, holy gift, as well.

I’d like to say I’m changed forever. That it’s a quick fix and I’ll never again fight against something slipped into my hands. I know this new realization will take time to sink in my head, tie around my heart. This will be an ongoing process, one I will continually have to check my behavior and actions and seek Christ’s demeanor in this sacrifice. For it is a heavenly offering, a sacrifice sweeter than the works I grind out each day.

Still this stubbornness. Look the gift head on and see beyond to who offers and humbly accept what God gives. Be glorified in the gratitude, fellowship with the donor, whoever they may be, and receive with an open heart.

Prayer:
Lord I thank You for opening my eyes to see my stubbornness. I thank You that You want to work with me to see receiving as an act of worship, a gift to You to bring joy and gladness to not only myself, but the person who gives to me, as well. Please help me to keep this perspective as I struggle with accepting, and may I continually be thankful for the gift You gave in Your Son Jesus. Amen.