Death is often experienced as a sobering and intensely personal wake-up call - intellectually, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Everyone here this morning that has experienced the death of a family member, friend, or loved one knows the truth about which I speak. Over a month ago, at the death of my sister-in-law, I was reminded of how unexpected life can end, without warning or notice.

These past two weeks have again been difficult. On October 16^th, Methodist Pastor Todd Krueger died at the young age of 45, after a brief, but courageous battle with Leukemia. And then Monday morning of this past week brought more sorrow. As many of you know, David Jasper, godson of Larry and Bernice, died very unexpectedly in his sleep on Sunday night at the age of 52. On the same day, Mack McMillan, district superintendent of the Rocky Mount District, also died suddenly and unexpectedly from a blood clot that formed in his leg after knee-replacement surgery. Please continue to keep these families in your prayers.

Larry and I attended Mack's funeral on Thursday of this past week. It was again one of those sobering and intensely personal wake-up calls. At one point in the service, Rev. John Strother looked out over a sea of grieving faces with an uncharacteristic smile for such occasions and said: "Brother and sisters ... I am here to remind you that Mack knew how to live the dash ... everyone knew h im as a loving father, a strong leader, a loving husband, and a generous spirit with everything - his time, his talents, and his very life." As he said the words, I looked down at the front of my bulletin which read: "The Reverend Samuel "Mack" McMillan, III, November 12, 1959 [dash] October 25, 2010 - and I just stared at the dash.

It is enough to make a person think, right? We are not so much defined by our birth date, the only thing it proclaims is how old we are. We are not so much defined by our date of death; for when it is placed beside the other date, it can only proclaim how long we lived. But that dash - the mysterious little line between the two - that is something to consider. When we have departed this earth, what will your dash say about you? About me? How do you want to be remembered? What characteristics, what habits, what virtues or vices will define the way you lived life between the day of your birth and the day of your death? What will people say about you, how you lived, what you did, where you went, and what you left behind?

Just this week, the NY Times had a front page story about the newest, 27-Story residential tower in downtown Mumbai. Some estimate the building's value around 1 billion. The parking garage fills six levels. There are three helipads on the roof. There are terraces upon terraces, airborne swimming pools and hanging gardens. There are nine elevators, a 50-seat theater and a grand ballroom. Hundreds of servants and staff are expected to work inside. And now, finally, after several years of planning and construction, the residents are about to move in. All five of them. The tower will be home to India's richest person, Mukesh Ambani, his wife, and their three children. The home in Mumbai (former Bombay), is built in the same city where an estimated 62 percent of the population live in slums. You know the old expression "money talks?" Well, one thing is for sure, the people of Mumbai are talking. Some think the tower is a monument to mammon. Some think it is screaming "I'm rich and I don't care what people think." Others just look at the tower in awe and hope that one day they might get to work there.

Now that is obviously an extreme - but have you ever wondered how your use of money talks? In what ways do you live before the watching world? What do other people see? What does the way we use our resources, our time, our energy and our money say about us? About our values? About our interests? About what we love and what we hate? About our passions? Our hopes? Our dreams? Our longings and desires?

Now contrast that story from the NY Times with this one:

"He sat down opposite the treasury, and watched the crowd putting money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. A poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which are worth a penny. Then he called his disciples and said to them, "Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. For all of them have contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on."[1]

It is perhaps Jesus' first finance committee meeting - and the first order of business is to change the agenda. Up until now, the focus was on the big donors, the big gifts. After all, think of all the good those gifts could do? - Fund the Temple construction, assist the poor, feed the hungry, generate new programs for outreach and witness - the list is endless. Jesus doesn't notice them - but he does notice a poor widow. It would be hard not to notice her, because this was before the days when you could write a discreet check and place it in the offering anonymously. The Mishnah tells us that there were thirteen trumpet-shaped receptacles against the wall of the Court of Women. Most donors came forward and announced the sum to the priest before placing it in the coffers with an air of accomplishment.

It is not unlike much of church giving today. Professional fund raisers are quick to point out that the key to development is "donor recognition." We don't carry obnoxiously large bags of money into the Temple for all to see - but we do want a gold plaque on the wall, a name listed in the special friend section of the campaign booklet, and a window with a stain glassed acknowledgment of our generosity. But Jesus recognizes a widow. Imperceptible to most Temple worshipers, she slips between the long robed scribes and rich rulers, no doubt a distraction to some and an annoyance to others. What is she doing here? What possible good can she do to advance the work of the temple? ...but Jesus notices her. He goes even further, making her an example of faithfulness and obedience.

Suddenly, Jesus' finance committee meeting is not just about money, it is about obedience and trust. It is not just about fund raising, it is about giving. We think the difference between the rich donors and the poor widow is one of class, economics, and assets. Jesus tells us the difference is larger, grander, and more unsettling. This widow has a different orientation toward God and the world. She is not just giving a little off the top. She is not tithing ten percent - 20 percent. One coin would have been an even 50%. She goes further - in fact, the troubling thing for us is that she went all the way. She gave everything.

In a sense, I believe that this widow turns Jesus' finance committee into a trustee committee. Think about it. This is not about what we own, what we have, what we give, and what we do with what is left. It is about what we have received. Part of the problem with so much of the church's talk about money is that we focus on giving before we focus on receiving. The truth of the Gospel is that we own nothing. We are trustees - entrusted with gifts, talents, life, time, and ideas. The real question we need to be asking today is not "how much should I give to God out of my abundance." But how much should I keep of what God has given me?

It is an unfortunate truth that most people lose more change each year ($100) than they give to the church annually. Even those who tithe tip God less than waiters expect, even at a chain restaurants. What if we reversed the way we do offerings - what if, instead of taking some off the top, we put all our income in the offering baskets and then came forward to "take from God" only what we needed? It is not very practical, but it at least makes one wonder if we still have yet to hear the message of the poor widow.

Let me share a story in conclusion:

Erma Bombeck [popular columnist and writer known for her humor and wit] was constantly asked if she saves up her best ideas for the next column, or how she parcels out and dribbles out her best ideas. Before Bombeck died she answered these queries in a column, "What's Saved is Often Lost." "I don't save anything. My pockets are empty at the end of a week. So is my gas tank. So is my file of ideas. I trot out the best I've got, and come the next week, I bargain, whimper, make promises, cower and throw myself on the mercy of the Almighty for just three more columns in exchange for cleaning my oven.

"I didn't get to this point overnight. I came from a family of savers who were sired by poverty and . . . worshiped at the altar of self-denial. "Throughout the years, I've seen a fair number of my family who have died leaving candles that have never been lit, appliances that never got out of the box . . "It gets to be a habit.

"I have learned that silver tarnishes when it isn't used, perfume turns to alcohol, candles melt in the attic over the summer, and ideas that are saved for a dry week often become dated.

"I always had a dream that when I am asked to give an accounting of my life to a higher court, it will be like this: 'So, empty your pockets. What is left of your life? Any dreams that were unfilled? Any unused talent that we gave you when you were born that you still have left? Any unsaid compliments or bits of love that you haven't spread around?' "And, I will answer, 'I've nothing to return. I spent everything you gave me. I'm as naked as the day I was born."[2]

Sound familiar? We we were reminded by John Wesley last week: earn all you can, save all you can so you can give all you can. So let me ask you today: In what ways do you live before the watching world and what do other people see? What does the way you use your resources, your time, your energy and your money say about you? How are you living your dash?

Wesleyan Covenant Prayer:

I am no longer my own, but thine. Put me to what thou wilt, rank me with whom thou wilt. Put me to doing, put me to suffering. Let me be employed by thee or laid aside for thee, exalted for thee or brought low for thee. Let me be full, let me be empty. Let me have all things, let me have nothing. I freely and heartily yield all things to thy pleasure and disposal. And now, O glorious and blessed God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, thou art mine, and I am thine. So be it. And the covenant which I have made on earth, let it be ratified in heaven. Amen.