ITHOUT HESITATION MY SON stated firmly, “Pay the tithe. The Lord will provide.” Without further discussion my 12-year-old returned to his homework.

Thoughtfully I reached for my check-book. “The Lord will provide.” How many times had I said those words since a truck accident had taken the lives of my firstborn son and my husband? Since that ill-fated day, with the help of my young son, I had been attempting to operate our small farm.

Faith or Presumption?
I had spent the morning paying bills. Expenses are heavy on a farm in the spring. There were just enough funds to cover the bills. But as I prepared to file my papers, I realized that I had forgotten to write the tithe check. Now there wasn’t enough left to pay the tithe. In consternation, I had confessed to my son what I had done. Yet I knew in my heart that his prompt answer was the only way to go.

“How about the offering?” I asked. He did hesitate that time, but not for long.

“Better pay it, too,” he answered. “The Lord will provide.” This from a young lad. I felt humbled.

I wrote the check for the tithe and offering, noted the due dates on the statements, and arranged the envelopes in order. This was not a new procedure for me. Often I had held checks to within a few days of their due dates, confident that the Lord would provide money to cover them before they were endorsed by the bank—but never for this much before. Was I being presumptuous?

I had a studio in one small room of our farmhouse, where I did artwork for photographers in the nearby towns. But the work was seasonal, and at this time of year the few checks that would be coming in on the tenth of the month would not cover the shortage. They would buy a few groceries, but where would I find money to buy gas for the car? My son had to be driven to school.

Our pantry contained a two-pound bag of beans and enough cornmeal and oil for a double batch of corn bread. That would feed us until the tenth of the month.

I thought of the widow who fed Elijah, her barrel of meal and cruse of oil.

It’s spring, I said to myself, and the resurrection of nature is taking place all about us. The early garden is planted, the dogwood and redbud are a riot of blossoms, the pastures are turning green, the winter wheat is a joy to behold, and mushrooms are popping. We shall take to the woods this very afternoon and hunt for mushrooms. And so we did.

Raising the Stakes
We left the woods early, for a storm was threatening. The mushrooms we had found would enhance our supper of leftovers.

As we bickered playfully over who should have the last mushroom on the platter, the phone rang. My sister was calling to inform me that a tornado had struck our hometown and left it in ruins. All our family members were safe, but the tornado had cut a swath a half mile wide through the center of town. I turned on the television. News reports were already showing pictures of the devastation.

Again my phone rang. The pastor of my church was organizing a group to prepare corn bread and beans to take to the stricken town on Monday morning. Would I help?

Corn bread and beans. Was God trying to tell me something? I could provide corn bread and beans, but this was supposed to feed us for the next few days. What should I do? I had no choice. After all, we had a roof over our heads.

On Monday after driving my son to school, I joined my church friends to share food with people who had, in the space of 10 minutes, lost everything they owned.

After we had dispensed our food, I spent the rest of the day helping in any way I could until it was time to pick up my boy at school. I spent the last of the money in my purse for a loaf of bread, a half gallon of milk, and a small jar of peanut butter. I still had some leftovers, and there were some home-canned peaches and tomatoes in the basement. What next, Lord? I wondered.

Yes, Lord
Tuesday morning I was well into my postponed laundry when the doorbell rang. Unusual, I thought, for we lived far off the beaten track, and callers were rare on weekdays. I opened the door to a woman I had never seen before.

She had been directed to me by one of my photographer clients. She needed some photographs painted in a hurry. Could I do them? I most certainly could! I asked her to return in four hours.

I went straight to the studio and went to work. This unexpected order would be cash on delivery. Wow!

When the pictures were picked up and paid for, I finished my laundry, went into the city, bought groceries, filled the car with gas, and picked up my son at school. He saw the grocery bags on the backseat. “Well, I see the Lord provided,” he said. “Tell me about it.”

For Tuesday evening worship we had a special praise and thanksgiving session. We reminded Jesus of the two checks that still sat on my desk and thanked Him in advance for His solution to the problem. We waited patiently for the Lord to work.

More to Come
Wednesday morning I received a phone call from my real estate agent. I owned a small piece of undeveloped land south of the city. My late husband had purchased it years ago and had been planning to build on it. When he was killed I had listed it for sale, with little hope of disposing of it.

The agent had a buyer who was offering $2,500 down, with the balance to be paid in monthly payments at a very good rate of interest. By Friday the papers were signed and the down payment deposited in my bank account. Not only were my immediate financial needs resolved, but also I could add the monthly payments for this land to my meager income for the next five years.

I’ve always had a strong faith, and many times God has answered my prayers, sometimes instantly. But this was far beyond anything I had experienced before. Now I understood much better the meaning of the verse “Bring ye all the tithes into the storehouse, that there may be meat in mine house, and prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it” (Mal. 3:10).

Never again did I fail to pay my obligation to the Lord before paying my obligations to others.

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Lee Fross Cooper was raised in Indiana, where this story took place. She was a member of the Hillcrest Seventh-day Adventist Church in Bakersfield, California, when this story was written.