Scarcity faith or abundance?

By Jessica Brodie

Have you ever encountered a situation in everyday life that hits home with a major faith lesson? I could probably call this blog “a tale of two kitties” (I do love me some puns), but it’s far bigger than that.

We have dog and two cats—a giant German Shepherd named Captain who turns one this month, a recently adopted stray kitty named Casper, and our resident curmudgeon cat, Leia.

While Leia’s a grump who seems only to prefer me, probably because I feed her and ask permission before I pet her, Casper unequivocally loves everyone. He’s an attention-seeker who seems to prefer nothing more than lazing around in people’s laps getting stroked and scratched behind his ears. He even lets the dog lick him, forgetting the fact that Captain is perhaps eight times his size.

And when it comes to meal times, they couldn’t be more different. Casper meows plaintively twice a day when his belly begins to rumble, then follows me from room to room until I pull out the crunchies and canned food. As I scoop the crunchies into his bowl, he bats at the scoop in his impatience and desperately melodramatic hunger, sometimes spilling crunchies all over the place in the process. And then the canned food! It’s like he’s never had it before. I crack open the pop top, then walk to get a fork, Casper manically following me around the kitchen cooing like a pigeon—I’m not exaggerating. I spoon a tad into his dish and he immediately snags it and pulls it out of the bowl to eat that first bite. By the time I’ve spooned the rest in, he’s swallowed Bite One and is attacking the rest of the food with the vigor of a young lion.

Meanwhile, Leia watches serenely form across the room, meanders over when it suits her, and might take a bite or two if she feels like expending the energy. If she’s at her dish and Casper decides he’d like to eat some of hers, too, she gives a “go for it” kitty-shrug and steps aside, letting him eat what he likes.

It’s both hilarious and striking to watch them.

Of course, Casper was a stray who showed up as a kitten at my coworker’s door, taken in and soon adopted by my family. He knew what it was like to live on the mean streets of Columbia, fighting for his meals, perhaps even fighting to stay alive. Leia, on the other hand, was born in the back of a friend’s shop, fed well along with her other brothers and sisters from Day One, and then adopted into our home when she was six weeks old. She’s never known a day without love and abundance.

This is evident in the way they approach food: Leia from a perspective of plenty, and Casper from a perspective of scarcity, even though he’s lived with us since early November—far, far longer than he’s been alive.

The other day it hit me that’s how some of us live our lives and act regarding our blessings and generosity. We cultivate a generous heart, sharing our food and homes and gifts and belongings freely with others, even stranger. Or conversely we hold onto to what is “ours” with an iron fist, afraid to share in case we might need it, or because we thing another person might take advantage, or a myriad of other reasons.

I can relate to both. While today, I’ve finally cultivated a more generous heart, I didn’t always have this. Growing up, I hoarded my belongings and didn’t share my money or things readily. As a young adult, money was really scarce, and it got even harder in my early thirties, when I was a single mom with two little kids barely scraping by. It took me awhile to pry open my fingers and understand what I “had” wasn’t actually mine. All my blessings—my kids, money, shelter, clothing—were a gift from God, and I needed to share them with others in the same way God freely shared them with me.

I remember once in my younger days being astounded when my cousin, who didn’t have a full-time job, made very little money, and perpetually seemed to be borrowing from others, happened to have a few dollars. I happened to be with her when one of her friends needed something, and you know what she did? She offered her measly four dollars over, and lent her friend a shirt, as well! I was simultaneously horrified and impressed. From that day forward, I realized my cousin was quite literally a woman who would give you the shirt off her own back. It took me awhile to get there, but I’m thankful I did. Some days I still struggle with generosity, but most days—even when times are hard and bills loom—I succeed.

That’s the question I get from watching my two kitties: am I living my life from a perspective of scarcity or abundance? Am I cultivating a generous heart, whatever that means? And if not, how can I live better?

And this is the question I turn over to you, my friends. How are YOU living? What perspective shapes how you live and walk with the Lord?

Are you stingy or giving?

Jesus lifted up the generosity of the poor widow in Mark 12:41-44 who gave two small copper coins to the church treasury. That’s how we’re supposed to live, whether times are plenty or lean.

My prayer is that I live like that widow. And in the meantime, I’ll keep giving my two sweet kitties their food, showing them love, and hoping that one day, poor Casper will finally realize he doesn’t have to fight to survive. He only has to rest in the peace of the love surrounding him… the same love we all have in Jesus.