She teetered to the front of the church on arthritic little feet and carefully placed a small blue bundle on the edge of the stage in front of the pulpit. This little old lady brought her offering to the Lord, and quietly returned to her seat.
The tin roof panels ticked and expanded in the hot sun. A blanket of heat pressed down on all of us inside the cement block walls of the church. As the worship leader strummed his guitar and the congregation swayed together in worship, I stared at that little blue bundle. From where I stood, I could not tell if the bag contained eggs, small onions or garlic. But whatever it was, it was clear that this little lady brought something precious from her heart.
I thought of the widow who brought her single coin as an offering to the Lord. Jesus commended her for giving all she had. She gave what she could not really afford to give. She needed every cent to survive. But she gave more than money; she gave her heart.
I teared up looking at that precious yet worthless little blue bag on the step. I thought about what a humble offering it was. Imagine bringing a bag of half a dozen heads of garlic as an offering to the God of the Universe. The difference between the offering and its worth was never greater. The dignity of God Almighty, King of Kings, The Alpha and Omega was contrasted against a bag of garlic, and yet, I felt that God was very, very pleased with that little blue bag.
When the worship ended, the pastor carefully and reverently collected the offering in a bundle. He respectfully nodded his thanks to the little old lady who bowed her head and smiled to herself. She brought her all and received the blessing of God. God Almighty smiled on her and her little blue bag of garlic.