“You know, Emily was a selfish old woman in her way. She was very generous, but she always wanted a return. She never let people forget what she had done for them – and that way she missed love.”
That statement comes from Agatha Christie, taken from her novel entitled, “The Mysterious Affair at Styles.”
I was reminded by the words of Idries Shah. In “Learning How to Learn: Psychology and Spirituality in the Sufi Way,” he wrote: “The real generosity is when a man does something generous when nobody knows about it.”
But then, the thought of Muhammad Ali also keeps coming to my mind. “I try not to speak about all the charities and people I help, because I believe we can only be truly generous when we expect nothing in return,” he wrote in “The Soul of a Butterfly: Reflections on Life’s Journey.”
Generosity – that’s the term. “No person was ever honored for what he received. Honor has been the reward for what he gave,” reminded American president Calvin Coolidge. “Giving is the highest of living,” added inspirational author John C. Maxwell.
“Be generous,” urged W. Clement Stone, American businessman and philanthropist. “Give to those you love; give to those who love you, give to the fortunate, give to the unfortunate — yes, give especially to those you don’t want to give. You will receive abundance for your giving. The more you give, the more you will have.”
A grandmother was in a store with a friend, observing an artist showcase his work when she noticed a man gazing at her. She speculated that he might be feeling lonely or that she reminded him of someone. She offered him a warm smile.
In response, he approached her, shyly smiling as he opened the brown bag he was holding. “I would like to give you a present,” he stated without any formal introduction. He then placed a beautifully carved wooden horse into her hand.
He would have departed immediately if the grandmother had not pressed him with questions. He declined to reveal his name but mentioned that he worked as a night watchman at a factory. In his free time, he carved such figures from scrap wood. Once completed, he would stroll down the street until he encountered someone who seemed like they would appreciate a horse, as he described it.
He shared that he had never taken art lessons. “”But where I come from, everyone enjoys whittling.”
The grandmother’s friend, who owns a small gift shop, became quite enthusiastic about the carving. “It’s beautiful!” she exclaimed. “If you bring several to our store, I am confident we can sell them for you.”
However, the man declined. “If I were to sell them,” he stated plainly, “then creating them would merely become a task. I derive greater joy this way.”
Since that time, Grandma has not encountered the man again. Nevertheless, the little horse remains one of her most cherished belongings. Each time she gazes at it, she recalls the giver and hopes that the kindness of his heart and spirit has been rewarded. To her, it represents the ideal gift. It was bestowed upon a stranger without any expectation of gratitude or recompense.
I cannot ascertain the veracity of the aforementioned story, but I can share a factual account regarding Elisabeth Howard Elliot. She was born in Brussels, Belgium, and was merely a few months old when her family relocated to the United States.
At Wheaton College, she pursued the study of Classical Greek, convinced that it would serve as the most effective means to assist her in her mission of ultimately translating the New Testament of the Bible into an unfamiliar language. It was during her time at Wheaton that she encountered a man named Jim Elliot.
Jim and Elisabeth traveled separately to Ecuador as Christian missionaries to assist the Quichua (or Quechua) Indians. In 1953, they exchanged vows in the city of Quito. Prior to commencing her work, she heeded the account of Maruja, a woman from a nearby tribe. Maruja had been held captive for a year by the Huaorani. She described the tribe as fierce and savage in their behavior, yet she also remarked that the women were amiable and compassionate.
Their daughter, Valerie, was just 10 months old when her father was killed. The New York Times reported: “After Mr. Elliot and his colleagues landed by plane on Jan. 2, 1956, he kept rehearsing a message of good will — Biti miti punimupa, meaning “I like you, I want to be your friend” — from a Waorani phrase book. Three tribe members made a friendly visit, but then there was apparently a miscommunication or a perceived threat. After the missionaries failed to make radio contact with a base station, searchers found their bodies pierced by wooden spears.
“Ms. Elliot renewed contact with the tribe over the next two years. In 1958, accompanied by her 3-year-old daughter and the sister of one of the murdered missionaries, she moved in with the Waoranis, known to their neighbors as Aucas, or savages. She ministered to them and remained in their settlement, in the foothills of the Andes, subsisting on barbecued monkey limbs and other local fare and living in rain-swept huts.”
Maxwell, who used the story as an example of generosity, wrote: “Under those circumstances, many people in Elisabeth Elliot’s shoes would have gone home. It’s one thing to be willing to give up a comfortable life in the United States to help other people; it’s quite another to give up your spouse. But Elliot had a truly generous heart. Despite her terrible loss, she still wanted to help the people of Ecuador. She stayed and served the Quichuans with whom she was living.”
To end this piece, allow me to quote the words of Cole Ryan, author of Money: I Think We’ve Missed the Point. He said: “Here’s the thing: You can be materialistic and poor. You can also be content and rich. It has nothing to do with your income and it has everything to do with your heart. You don’t need to earn more money in order to be generous with your money. Some people use that as an excuse to be greedy. Jesus seemed to believe that the key to generosity wasn’t having more but being content with what you already have.”
