A number of Sundays ago, Nancy Lee spoke about her childhood years and putting her money (or sometimes, not putting her money) in the church collection plate. I, too, was trained in that habit growing up. Our church gave contribution envelopes to children as well as adults. And each week when my siblings and I got our allowance from Dad, he would give us a dollar to spend as we wanted, then give us a quarter specifically for our contribution envelopes. This money, he said, is for you to give back to the church.

Dad may not have known he was modeling God for us, although my dad is a pretty wise man, so I suspect he did. He was teaching us that out of all the blessings God gives us, most can be used however we see fit. God asks only that we give a portion back.

When I finished college and got my first full-time paying job, I will admit--I was geeky enough to be excited about the prospect of tithing for the first time. What made me excited was how I made sense of that phrase "giving back." When I wrote my check to church or to other charitable organizations, I wasn't just abstractly giving the money to God, who doesn't need it, anyway. Instead I was giving, in God's name, to others who did need it. By contributing to the continued growth of my parish, to a hunger relief program, or to a clinic that provides medical care to those who cannot pay for it, I actually was serving as God's collaborator and helping do God's work in the world.

Then, some years into adulthood, I reached a stage common to many of us in this parish: I could no longer in good conscience attend the church I'd grown up in. God blessed me again by leading me to St. Thomas. But strangely, I found it difficult to give freely as I once had done. I tried to rationalize my difficulty by telling myself there were so many other good causes besides my parish that needed my money equally. But I think the truth was that I had been hurt by my previous church. And it was hard not to hold a grudge, particularly when holding a pen poised over my checkbook.

But during the past five years, St. Thomas has won me over. As I've let go of my hurt and stepped up to become part of the flow of life here--meeting people, joining ministries, being shaped by sermons and other forms of worship-- I have seen God in many ways and in the many, diverse faces who gather here. It feels good to believe that by giving to St. Thomas, I'm once again a collaborator in God's work.