There is an old story of a father going to church with his three daughters and giving them each two quarters to put in the offering. When the offering came around the oldest put in her two quarters, the next did the same, but the last held onto hers. When she was going out of church, she pulled the pastor down to her level. "Sir, my daddy gave each of us kids two quarters to put in the offering. Sally put hers in the offering plate, and Julie put hers in, but I wanted to give mine to you." When the pastor inquired as to why, she responded, "I wanted to help you; my daddy said you are the POOREST preacher we have ever had!"(1)

Uh-huh. For what it is worth, I have always avoided excusing my inability to afford something by saying, "I am just a poor preacher," because I have never wanted any…