Don't Spend it All in One Place

I was in another teacher's classroom today and saw a very large glass jug that had perhaps been used for some sort of donation collection. This reminded me of something that happened to me a couple of years ago. Get a load of this.

An incident that has since come to be known simply as "the tsunami" had just occured on the other side of the world, killing many people and leaving thousands utterly broken. At the time, I was leading worship for Campus Crusade for Christ at Auburn. Crusade had planned an event called "Hungry for Relief" which called on Auburn men and women to go without lunch that day and instead give the money they would have spent on lunch to tsunami relief. It seemed like such an easy thing for us to be able to do. I found myself firmly backing this mini-movement. Here we are in America, cozy as can be, surely people would give up their lunch and donate the money to disaster relief. I decided I would make announcements about "Hungry for Relief" in my classes that day.

I went to Great Books II that Wednesday afternoon. I happened to be wearing a suit and tie because I was singing for Music Departmental convocation that afternoon (it's a big deal in music major world). I can't even remember the professor's name (see previous post), but I do remember that on Fridays he would wear black tennis shoes, black jeans, and a black windbreaker. These fashionable items, when worn together became known as his "ninja suit". But this was a Wednesday, not a Friday. Before class really got going, I raised my hand and asked if I could make an announcement.

"Sure, I guess so," said professor ninja.

"I am involved with a campus ministry called Campus Crusade for Christ here at Auburn," I said addressing the class. "As you know, a tsunami recently hit the coastline of the Indian ocean and thousands of people died. Relief efforts are going on now to help the people of this region rebuild their homes and their lives. Campus Crusade is going to send a group of people over there to do relief work, but needs to raise money for the trip. So, today we are having an event called 'Hungry for Relief'. We are asking anyone that is able, to give up their lunch today and donate that money to disaster relief. You can certainly give more money if you want, but we are simply asking for what you might spend on lunch. You can give at collection booths like that one," I pointed out the window to a table where two students sat behind a big plastic water jug. "See, you can even see it from here. Just stop by on your way out of class. I think this is a really easy way to contribute. Thanks."

I sat down, a little nervous and wondering if anyone would even consider giving, but glad I had said something.

"And what do you have to do with this project?" asked my professor.

"Nothing really, I just believe in what they are doing," I responded.
Professor ninja stood still, as if in deep thought. The class waited and watched. He walked slowly over to me and reached for his wallet.
"Do with this whatever you think is best," he said as he handed me a one hundred dollar bill.

My first thought: did this really just happen? Did he really just give me ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS? I looked down at the bill in my hand. Do I put it in my wallet? No, then it would seem like I want to keep it for myself. But if I put it in my pocket, it would look like I don't respect its worth; like taking a Rolls Royce through the Mickey D's drive thru. I folded it gently, then put it in my pocket.

My second thought: What trust! I could have been completely lying and just kept the money for myself. Bold move Ninja, bold move.

As i left class and headed for the donation jug, the greenback burned in my pocket. A much smaller version of me appeared on my left shoulder carrying a pitchfork and wearing horns. He urged me to keep walking, get on my bike, and ride away laughing. But, being the man of virtue that I am, I proudly walked up to the Campus Crusade table and told the same story to the students sitting there. I put the one hundred dollar bill into the jug along with my five bucks, smiled, and headed for my bike. As I rode away, my third and final thought struck me:

Damn, where does HE eat lunch?