I have a friend who says that his wife has “the gift of anticipation.” Now, he’s a psychologist so he’s paid to obfuscate. What he means is, she’s a worrier. And the reason she worries is because she’s scared of what could happen. She lives in fear; “What will happen to me if this were to happen, or if that were to come to pass? What will happen if our economy tanks or millions of Americans die of the virus?” She’s not alone, and nothing proves it any better than the level of our giving.
To be succinct, we don’t give 10% of our income or any offerings on top of it, because we’re scared of not having enough. Our faith in God’s sustaining power is so small that we think we have to provide for our own needs. Instead of locking our eyes on the One who loved us enough to die for us, we fix our eyes on ourselves and our potential circumstances.
A perfect example of this difference between faith and fear is found in the story of Benjamin’s birth in Genesis 35. In verse 16-18 Rachel, Jacob’s beloved wife, is giving birth to her second son, Benjamin, and it’s not going well. In fact, she’s facing a certain death. Look at what Charles Spurgeon says about it:
“To every matter there is a bright side as well as a dark side. Rachel was overwhelmed with the sorrow of her own travail and death; Jacob, though weeping the mother’s loss, could see the mercy of the child’s birth… Sad hearts have a peculiar skill in discovering the most disadvantageous point of view from which to gaze upon a trial; if there were only one swamp in the world, they would soon be up to their necks in it, and if there were only one lion in the dessert, they would hear it roar…
“Faith’s way of walking is to cast all care upon the Lord, and then to anticipate good results from the worst calamities...Out of the rough oyster shell of difficulty, she extracts the rare pearl of honor, and from the deep ocean cave of distress she uplifts the priceless coral of experience. When her flood of prosperity ebbs, she finds treasures hid in the sands; and when her sun of delight goes down, she turns her telescope of hope to the starry promises of heaven. When death itself appears, faith points to the light of resurrection beyond the grave, thus making our dying Ben-Oni (son of sorrow) to be our living Benjamin (son of my right hand).”
We all have a choice to make: faith or fear, giving or hoarding. May we all cultivate a gift of anticipation that supersedes our potential circumstances and rest on the rock solid assurances of a God who never fails to meet our ever need.
