There are two lessons I learned how to treat money. Both lessons came from my parents. Two stories come to mind. My father loved sweet baked goods. His store comes from the time shortly after WWII. After returning from his university, he would stop at a well-known Warsaw patisserie bakery, and ponder: Should I get that cake or not?
He would teach me and my siblings by a simple recollection. “I would stand in front of the window and then turn coins in my hand, and, more often than not, put them back into my pocket. It was too easy to spend, but, since it was Friday, a thought flashed in my mind that I would not have enough to place in the offering plate.”
My mother’s story was a bit different. She taught me how to plan my expenses and consider saving what came my way. The story I learned unfolded on my wedding day. “Son, I do not have much to give you, but you have been giving a gift to yourself and I was a steward of it. Remember how I told you that you can live with us in the same home after you started on you first job. Every month you paid me for your room and board. Here is a savings book in your name. You will need these funds for your own home now.” She then handed me “my own” savings.
Such lessons turned into my understanding of how blessings come our way, and how they involve each of us in going beyond covering the needs we might have. His blessings turn into a larger blessing when we recognize that what we have, we share with others.
If you ever met or have known a saint, an Adventist saint, you will recognize an amazing experience you will discover.
Meropi’s granddaughter, Esther Pocari, who was soon to be employed as a secretary in the newly re-established Albanian Adventist Mission, explained, “My grandma used to distribute pieces of paper with messages translated from the Bible. She gave them to everyone she met. I remember that whenever I visited her, she used to give me one to take with me. She put them in my pocket.”
One of Meropi’s greatest desires, when I visited with her, was to be relieved of the burden of keeping her tithe hidden. “What must I do with my tithe, which I have saved all these years?” she asked me. “Can you take it?” Meropi’s two sons explained that their mother would not keep the money in a bank because she didn’t trust the authorities.
Agreeing to return her tithe to the church, Meropi brought out a plastic bag from under her bed. In it was a carton full of Albanian leke and a few American dollars. For more that 20 years she had been on a $4.00 per month pension, yet she put aside her tithe and offerings. When we opened the carton, we found 24,629 leke and $41.00 in US funds. All told, she had saved the equivalent of US$533.89. For some of us, this may not be a large sum of money. For Meropi, living under duress and in fear that her tithe may be confiscated, this was more than what she saved.
A few weeks later, Meropi was delighted to hand over the tithe to Pastor David Currie, a missionary-evangelist and a colleague of mine from the Trans-European Division office. After meeting Meropi, David returned to his hotel room that evening to count her tithe money. He told me later that he felt as if he was touching a sacred package. “I could not help but get on my knees and thank God for the faith of this vibrant Christian.” Her saved tithe money was placed in a bank account of the revived Albanian Mission. In another emotionally rich experience, I had the privilege of studying the Bible and praying with Meropi, her family, and a few ready-to-be-baptized Albanian Christians.
On April 18, 1992, a wonderful entry was written in the annals of Adventist history. It was on that Easter Sabbath afternoon that Meropi’s dream to be baptized came true. She was joined by her daughter, Marherita, granddaughter, Esther, and five other believers. Together with Flora Sabbatino-Lewis, they became charter members of the Seventh-day Adventist Church in Albania.
Today, the church is not only present in this once-atheistic country but has established several congregations and is a vibrant contributor to what Meropi was dreaming about—building a church in her country. She waited four decades to see her dream come true.
After my last visit with Meropi and her family ended, and we bid farewell in her tiny one-bedroom flat, our eyes met but we did not need to say a word. As the family gathered on the balcony of their apartment block and we waved goodbye to each other, Meropi raised her hand, pointing heavenward. She nodded in the same direction. Words were not needed. We all knew—the Lord is coming back, and we shall meet again, for eternity.
What you think belongs to you, actually belongs to Someone else. Frugality in tithes and offerings does not work, in my view. For all belongs to Him and He shares it also with you.
Rajmund Dabrowski is RMC communication director and editor of Mountain Views. Email him at: [email protected]
