Little Me

You’ve no doubt heard the phrase “time, talent, and treasure”.  However, if by some extraordinary circumstances those three words are new to you, you should visit a church immediately.  Seriously, churches have mastered the promotion of the stewardship concept.

The Truth Shall Set You Free

Now for whatever its worth, I want you to know that if you do take my advice and attend a church, I won’t be there.  It’s been a while since I last set foot in a church.  My voluntary absence from the Church is a long story.  Maybe I’ll explain that story at another time.

For now, I just want you to know that when I was a child, I was forced to go to church a lot.  Often the compulsion to attend church was coupled with the threat of corporal punishment, dessert deprivation, and in-home solitary confinement.  Fortunately, I’m no longer a child living in my parents’ home, so I can tell you the truth about my involuntary church attendance.

During my childhood, it wasn’t just my mother who used strong-armed tactics to compel church attendance – it was my entire village.  My village which included folks like my mother, grandmothers, uncle, surrogate uncles & aunts, and play cousins seemed determined to make sure that I had a relationship with the Creator.  Moreover, my village was convinced that church was a place to develop stewardship – one’s responsibility to give their time, talent, and treasure in service of something greater than themselves.

Time, Talent, and Treasure

First, another admission that I can make now that I don’t live with my parents.  As a child, the stewardship requirements of time, talent, and treasure made very little sense to me.  For starters, I equated the word time with the requirement to be in church around the clock – all the time – Sunday school, Sunday morning service, Sunday evening service, Wednesday night bible study, Friday night fish frys, Saturday summer barbecue dinner sales, summer vacation bible school, the Easter play, the Christmas pageant, and on and on and on.

I know that’s a lot of church.  And I bet you no doubt would have agreed with the young me who understood the word time to mean ‘you won’t have time to do anything but go to church’.

The second word talent was equally perplexing.  To the best of my knowledge, I didn’t have any talents to give.  I couldn’t sing well enough to be featured in the choir.  There was no praise dancing in my day and even if praise dancing had been an option, let me assure you that it wouldn’t have been an option for me.

If I had any budding talents, I would have stated that I had potential as a basketball or football player.  Yet as you can tell from all the time I was compelled to spend in the church there was little time left to develop my athletic talents.

The third-word, treasure, was the one thing that I did understand.  Each Sunday, I was expected to make a financial contribution to the church – more specifically I was to make a sacrifice to God and give a special love offering to the pastor.  My mom’s unconditional mandate that I was to put a portion (10%) of my allowance and side hustle income (i.e. cutting grass, raking leaves, shoveling snow, etc.) into the church offering plate.

Although, I understood this financial requirement it was baffling.  I was poor, and my money needed to go towards the purchase of school clothes, lunch, girls, etc.  So, it made absolutely no sense to me that I would be forfeiting even 1% of what little I had for a God that had everything already and pastor that I didn’t even like much less love.

I bet you are starting to understand my voluntary absence from Church.  Again, I’ll save that story for another time.

No Longer A Child

Even though many of my childhood years were usurped, my potential to be a professional athlete was eliminated, and the prospects of building a financial empire were thwarted because of the church, I did gain an appreciation for what it meant to be a steward.  Just as my village intended, I learned that when you profess to believe in something, your verbal commitment should never exceed the amount of time, talent, and treasure you allocate to that cause.

Although I’m no longer compelled by the strong-arm tactics to attend church, I remain grateful for the lesson of stewardship – time, talent, and treasure.  In fact, today when I hear someone professing their commitment to a social movement or to a people, I routinely ask them “how much time are you spending, what talents are you sharing, and how much of your treasure are you giving to the movement or to the people?”.

Diversity, Inclusion, and Equity (DI&E)

One of those social movements that nearly every adult I meet professes an affinity for is diversity, inclusion, and equity.  Every Corporate CEO, School Superintendent, University President, Religious Leader, and the like that I’ve ever heard speak or had the pleasure of meeting claims a commitment to diversity, inclusion, and equity.  Yet when asked the question “how much time are you spending with diverse people, what talents are you sharing in diverse places, and how much of your treasure are you giving to the DI&E movement?” the response is generally silence and staring – or as I like to call it the look of shock and awful.

Yes, shock and awful not shock and awe.  Shock and awful as in shocked that I would ask them to quantify their commitment to DI&E and awfully perturbed that I wasn’t satisfied with their verbal commitment or organizational diversity statement.

Words Without Deeds

America consistently proclaims a belief that all people are created equal and we regularly espouse a commitment to equality.  Yet the makeup of our public, private, and governmental institutions tell a voluminously unequal story.  Congress remains overwhelmingly male and white — much like corporate boardrooms where white men account for the majority of corporate governance positions.

Sunday worship remains the most segregated hour in America.  After church dismissal, American moms and dads with their children in tow go home to their mostly segregated communities.  And on Monday morning, those children return to their mostly segregated school.

A Good Steward

It’s little wonder why this country has numerous pressing social issues – like diversity, inclusion, and equity – which continue to keep us from reaching our potential.  Today’s parents who were yesterdays children, many like me who were forced to attend church, still don’t seem to understand the meaning and importance of those stewardship lessons.

Our lack of stewardship understanding has permeated our parenting acumen and perpetuated the raising of subsequent generations who further devalue and diminish diversity, inclusion, and equity.  If we really desire an improved nation – a nation that is diverse, inclusive, and equitable, it’s time that we accept those stewardship lessons I forcibly learned at church.

Namely that the modeling of good stewardship must begin with adults and we must show children that when you profess to believe in something, the amount of time, talent, and treasure you allocate to that cause must always exceed your verbal commitment.  In simpler words, our children must be better than us and we must teach them to live by the creed ‘more doing and less talking’.

How much time are you spending with diverse people (i.e. gender, race, ethnicity, national origin, sexual orientation, etc.)?  What talents are you sharing in diverse places (i.e. workplace, school, religious institutions, etc.)?  How much of your treasure are you giving (i.e. purchasing goods and services from diverse people) to promote diversity, inclusion, and equity?