This comic strip deeply resonates with me. And it’s not for the reasons one may think: it’s not because the child is throwing a public tantrum which is exasperating and embarrassing his parents (that would be a safe assumption, considering that is my life). Rather, the reason lies with PJ. I am familiar with that place, with that tantrum. I nonchalantly throw my offering into the plate and think nothing of it. But, as the ever encroaching end of the month and zero balance sneaks upon me or when the time I allotted to a ministry beckons to me, my heart tantrums as I realize the permanence of my charitable actions: Wait, what?! I want MY coin BACK! I know I said I would but I don’t want to, this is MY time! My fallen nature and humanity is exposed: I am not the cheerful giver I thought I was, it turns out.
Let’s call a spade a spade.
I’m broken and in desperate need of the Cross.