The Greatest Gift

In the summer of 1999, my parents celebrated their 25th wedding anniversary. At the time, my dad was pastoring Victor Valley Baptist Church in Victorville, California. Our family had planted this church eight years prior, and the church was now enjoying a small, thriving membership. I was home from Bible college for the summer, so I planned a surprise party for after church on a Sunday night, right before my parents went out of town for a few days to celebrate.

The church people decided to pool some money so that my parents could buy some new living room furniture. One of the men asked me to be the designated collector in the weeks leading up to the party. Some gave $5 and some handed me $20s and $50s. Everyone was excited to participate in spoiling my much-loved parents.

Among the church membership was a lady named Pearl. Pearl was a sweet lady who was well into her eighties, but she still managed to drive herself to church while picking up others who needed transportation to church. She drove an old, dusty, mid-80’s station wagon and rarely showed up for any service without someone else in tow. She lived in a tiny, dilapidated house in a poverty-ridden area of town.

The most notable thing about Pearl was that, although her later years were not filled with plenty, she was always happy. I never saw her sad or defeated. She willingly picked up teens, young mothers, and other elderly friends to bring them to God’s house every time the doors were open.

She caught me at church one evening close to the date of the party and spoke to me in quiet confidence, “Tracie, I want to give toward your parents’ gift, but my fixed income is so tight. I don’t have cash, but I can do something. Can you please let you parents know that I am helping in a different way?” After I told her that she did not have to give and that it was optional, she held up her gnarled hands, “No, no, dear. Everyone should give to help the pastor and his wife. Some may not be able to give cash, but everyone can still give.” I looked at her bewildered and waited for her to explain.

“See, some weeks it is a struggle to put gas in my car to get to church. Some weeks I have to eat noodles and rice or walk to the food bank to get enough to eat for the week. Here’s the thing: I believe God does greater things than our few dollars can do. I can pray, and prayer is the most valuable thing you can do for the man of God and his family. I know prayer works! I’ve seen what it can do, and it’s amazing! Please tell your dad and mom after the party that I will lift them up in prayer as long as I am able to do so.” She smiled and patted my shoulder. Turning, she walked slow and stooped to her station wagon that was filled with public school teenagers who needed a ride home from church.

I stood slightly dumbstruck and resolutely humbled at Pearl’s powerful words of faith. That evening I learned from an unassuming, elderly lady that no amount of money or things can fight the devil. No worldly wealth or earthly treasures can build a bridge to faith. In that moment, my preacher’s-kid heart swelled with gratitude to know that this widow’s “two mites” was to pray fervently for the two people I loved most in this world.

Today, Pearl has been in Heaven for many years, enjoying all the rewards of a life spent on earth living for Christ by loving others. At her funeral, my dad addressed those gathered to honor her. He said, “Pearl died because of heart problems. However, if you ask me, I will say that she had a perfect heart!”

Pearl’s heavenly dividends are most certainly still paying out because on a warm June evening in 1999, Pearl from the little desert town of Adelanto taught me by her unashamed display of faith that prayer is the greatest and most valuable gift we can ever give to others.

Jeremiah 33:3 – Call unto me, and I will answer thee, and shew thee great and mighty things, which thou knowest not.

James 5:16 – Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed. The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much.

by Tracie S. Burns

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