Money Matters.

It ought to have been a very simple decision of purchase. But like a man paralysed from the neck down, I could summon no strength to buy what my heart so desired, burning within the furnace of my will. God’s voice came first as a tiny whisper, then a niggling feeling in my bosom. I had absolutely no peace about it. Worse, I couldn’t place a finger on… why.

It ought to have been a very simple decision of purchase. After discovering the joys of cycling, I wanted a roadbike to start training for a duathlon. I had sufficient savings, my parents were mostly supportive, and I’d found a great second-hand bike a friend wanted to sell off at a good price. “So, do you like it?” my parents kept asking me-I think they wanted to pay for it.

Something I couldn’t place my finger on niggled at me. I couldn’t bring myself to pay the sum- it was the same amount I had decided to set aside to sponsor children for the next year. And while I did have sufficient savings to do both, I began to realise how pertinent the stewardship of money is. For all my heart about helping underprivileged children, I began to realise that this money is not my own- but God’s money.

All my life I’ve been privileged. Being the youngest of two in the family gives me special rights to hardly-worn hand-me-downs. I receive branded clothes from my sister, jewellery from relatives and friends, make-up from church aunties, so I’ve never had to struggle too much with the issue of spending on myself- what I like, I already have to begin with. Save for me, my entire family has an astute sense for financial management. But I thank God that for all my financial idiocy, I can give whenever I feel like it, and still have enough.

Lately we spent some money to buy a flute because I wanted to learn it. Somehow, that gave me peace because I could bless others with it. If I invited Grandpa Zhou or the poor to my home, I would gladly show it to them and entertain, perhaps even perform with Grandpa Zhou with his harmonica. When I practise, I feel God’s pleasure.

But a roadbike which cost hundreds of dollars (a basic decent one easily costs more than a thousand dollars) sitting in my living room, which served no other purpose than the fulfillment of my own athletic desires… I feared would be a monstrosity. I thought I might hide it if I invited the poor over. I imagined myself visiting the disadvantaged, holding their hands in empathy, or giving them a tour of my home and then having to answer for the bike… and tears stung my face as I thought of the hypocrisy of it all. It would stumble myself, even.

It’s not wrong to buy a bike, I know. And this really is a relatively small decision to make. But how I fear it will not end there. First comes the roadbike, then a helmet to go with it, a bottle cage, a podometer, bike shoes, bike clothes, bike gloves, sunglasses… it could go on forever. While now it may -just- be a bike, who knows the excuses the deceitful heart will come up with when I have the resources to buy a swanky car, a nice house? It comes down to a matter not of affordability (because you can afford it) but simply, choice. More money on yourself means less for others. More on myself means a tighter budget to buy food, education and shelter for less privileged children.

Missionary doctors have warned me time and again of the lures of this world. You’ll be able to afford plenty of things when you start working. But buy a house and car here in Singapore and you can forget about missions. Possessions have a great hold over people.

And I wondered if this were not just a symbolic decision I had to make, not unlike buying an expensive possession like what the missionary doctors referred to. One question I ask myself to keep myself in check is- if someone stole this, how devastated would I be? Quite, I thought. And I felt the sickening grip of an extravagant possession tighten around my neck like a noose. Tears streamed down again, as I thought of what I felt challenged to do- would you be all right if I asked you to use all your savings to sponsor kids this year? Forgo one bike to educate a few more underprivileged children in Africa and Sri lanka and buy them lunch, uniforms and household items in 2009?

The more honorable decision seemed obvious, but it stung. Tis the first time I’ve had to struggle with a monetary decision such as this.

I want to feel God’s pleasure when I ride, not His hurt.

And I was a little upset when I asked God why it was that other people didn’t struggle with this like I do. How come you don’t ask them what you’re asking me? But I knew God has other plans.

I was at a medical outreach carnival yesterday. It was organised to reach out to migrants and sex workers in our fringe community, to bless them with a free medical screening. I met a missionary from Mercy Relief who sat me down as we connected immediately. In terms of goals and personality, we had so much in common. Her Story made me cry. She lives frugally, and yet is blessed. She trusts God to provide for everything, even for her desires. I asked her about the roadbike. She didn’t discourage me either. God gives good gifts to His children, too, you know, she said. My close friend had told me, I don’t think it’s wrong, but why don’t you wait on God for a bit since He’s speaking to you about something?

It ought to be a straightforward decision, but it is symbolic, I think, of the attitude of my heart. And it is the process, more than the outcome I think, that would shape the kind of person I become. I don’t think the end-point is as important as what God wants me to learn through this process. He is challenging me about issues of stewardship, money and cent-sibility (pardon the pun). He is revealing to me the weaknesses of my flesh, humbling me and making me aware of my flesh. He is preparing me for the life I may have ahead if He continues to call me to missions.

I know God gives good gifts to His children. So He may still choose to bless me with a bike in the end, but I want to know that the decision was measured and matured, not impulsive and indulgent. I want to feel God’s pleasure when I ride. I want to know it is a good gift from Him.

I am learning- I am not perfect. And what He demands from me is not so much an ascetic life as much as a heart that is sensitized to His voice, a heart longing to learn His lessons. I don’t know when this struggle will end- but I pray by God’s grace, it does, be it in the form of having the peace to forgo the roadbike altogether, or finding a bike which I know was a gift from Him. But perhaps the most important lesson is to wait on God. Just, to wait patiently for peace and the lessons birthed through this experience.

And when I finally do learn what I sense Him teaching me about money, stewardship and sensibility, maybe, just maybe, God might answer in an unexpected way. Or maybe, just maybe, I might find infinite joy elsewhere, too.