Tears streamed down my face as I laid prostrate on the living room floor of my luxury downtown apartment. The message I received was clear, but it wasn’t what I wanted to hear.
Three weeks prior, I began tithing — giving one-tenth of my biweekly paycheck to my church. I had recently finished a series on the benefits of tithing and felt spiritually led to try it out for myself. After contributing for three paychecks in a row, I gazed at my bank account and determined that I couldn’t afford to continue. If I did, I would have little to nothing left to budget for myself.
I thought, “Surely God doesn’t want me out here broke.” Right? At least, that’s what I wanted to hear.
In my best attempt to run away from what I felt God urging me to do, I ventured to my favorite Peruvian carryout to grab a bite to eat. Oddly, I ran into an old supervisor whom I hadn’t seen in over six years. I had no idea what she was doing on my side of town, but we caught up on old times as we stood in the unusually long line. Suddenly she stated, “Do you remember when you moved here with nothing? You didn’t even have furniture or summer attire?”