Before his death, economist Robert Heilbroner offered a simple exercise. He asked his readers to imagine the following:

Take all the furniture out of your home — except one table and two chairs. Use blankets on the floor for beds.

Remove all your clothing except your oldest outfit. One pair of shoes.

Empty the refrigerator and pantry. Leave only a small bag of flour, some sugar and salt, a few potatoes, some onions, a dish of dried beans.

Shut off the water. Remove the electricity. Then take away the house itself and move the family into the tool shed. Place that shed in a shantytown.

Cancel all subscriptions — not that it matters, because now no one in the family can read. There is one radio for the entire neighborhood.

The nearest hospital is ten miles away. The family has ten dollars to its name. The head of the household farms a few acres, but a third of what he earns goes to the landlord, and a tenth to the money lender.

And life expectancy? Twenty-five years shorter than yours.

This, Heilbroner noted, is daily life for as many as a billion people in the world.

I find it hard to read that without feeling two things at once — genuine gratitude, and a quiet unease. By comparison, I have so much. Most of us do.

And our faith is not silent about what that means.

God said to Abraham: I will bless you… so that you will be a blessing.

The gift was always meant to flow through, not simply to collect.

Jesus put it plainly: To those whom much is given, much will be required.

Not as a burden. As an invitation. Because here is what I have found to be true — and maybe you have too — that a life oriented around generosity is a richer life. More meaningful. More alive. We can’t do everything. But we can do something. The blessing, it turns out, flows both ways.

Prayer: Loving God, you have blessed us so richly - more than we often stop to recognize. May we never mistake the blessing for the point. You blessed us to make us a blessing. Send us out today with open hands and open hearts. Amen.

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