I’ll be avoiding eye contact with people from the church for the foreseeable future.
Let’s just get this confession out of the way…
I embezzled money from my church.
Here I am, on the verge of releasing a book on managing finances God’s way, and I did the unthinkable, perhaps the unforgivable. I used the church’s credit card to buy things for my own personal benefit.
But I swear (oh boy, now I’m swearing, too), it wasn’t on purpose.
What had happened, see, is this…
Last October, I made a few authorized purchases for the youth group, with the youth pastor’s permission, from Amazon. I have a personal Prime account, so when I needed to get a few supplies for a fall-themed party, he and I agreed the simplest course of action was to use his card to place the order.
I only bought the essentials: 200 miniature rubber ducks, glow-in-the-dark sunglasses, and two giant, blow-up disco balls.
You know, standard youth group purchases.
It was all on the up and up, and I turned in the appropriate receipts to the church office. But then I made a critical error. I forgot to remove my youth pastor’s credit card from among my billing options. Whoops!
Thankfully, miraculously, I do not have eight months of wracked-up expenses owed to the church. I do, however, have a few miscellaneous expenses to pay back from the last few weeks. Somehow, I must have accidentally changed over to billing our latest purchases to his card without realizing it.
So how did I discover my unintentional crime? I found out via group text on a Tuesday that will forever go down in infamy.
Youth pastor: By chance did any of you accidentally make some personal purchases on Amazon using my card?
“Not I,” said youth volunteer one.
“Not I,” said youth volunteer two.
“Not I,” said youth volunteer three.
“Oh crap,” said the internal voice of volunteer four…a.k.a. yours truly.
I immediately went into my Amazon app to check my latest purchase. “Oh no,” I said out loud, my stomach dropping, as I spotted the last four digits of the church’s card.
“Oh, no, no, no,” I chanted, scrolling back a couple purchases more.
“Oh, no, no, no, no, no,” I repeated, realization dawning about purchases for my 23rd wedding anniversary three weeks prior.
Sure enough, there they were. Two purchases of personal night-time apparel. For my husband’s eyes only. Never to be seen in the light of day. Charged to the youth pastor’s card.
“Oh crap,” I thought, stunned into a momentary paraplegic state. “Crap, crap, crap, crap.”
I picked up my phone and texted the group, starting the confession with a gif of a woman covering her head in a box of shame.
It’s me. I did it.
I’m the problem.
Crawling into a hole now.
After a few friendly jabs from the group about “Heather partying with the church credit card,” I sent one final text to the group.
“Send me a copy of the Amazon bill, so I can survey (and repay) the damage.”
In a zombie-like state, I then shuffled down to the lunchroom, fearing the worst about what the bill would reveal.
Was I worried about the grand financial total? Absolutely.
Was I even more anxious about the clothing descriptions? You better believe it.
I’m not sure what my coworkers discussed over lunch, because I was so preoccupied considering the worst-case scenarios, ranked according to embarrassment. Then, just as I was about to head back into my office, I received a text message with screenshots of the bill immediately calming all my fears.
In total, there were five purchases made on the youth pastor’s card for a grand total of $143.61. Not great, but it could have been so much worse!
Even better news, the anniversary apparel was simply described as follows:
06/04 AMZN Mktp [Random assortment of letters and numbers] $21.42*
06/05 AMZN Mktp [Random assortment of letters and numbers] $15.00*
(*Don’t judge…Who says romantic fashion can’t be under budget?!)
Phew! What a relief!
My personal peace, however, turned out to be short-lived.
My phone dinged with a new text from the youth pastor…
“I’ll just need the money. And, of course, the receipts.”
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Not the receipts!
At this point, I should tell you that volunteer #2 just so happens to be the youth pastor’s wife.
She also happens to be a fellow PK who shares my deeply engrained tendencies toward guilt and shame. Like me, she also gets sadistic joy from experiencing the awkward moments of others. I provided her with a real doozie when she witnessed my horrific situation unfold in real-time as a member of the group text.
“I’m dying,” she texted me directly, followed by a series of laughing emojis. “Which part of your book does this financial management tactic fall under?”
Cute. Very cute. I responded to her with the latest development in my personal, reputational hell.
“My current conundrum is how to provide your husband with purchase receipts…for nighties.”
A few lighthearted back and forths later, she tried her best to give helpful advice. “Just cut the pictures off of the receipts.”
I responded, “If only it were that simple.”
Let’s just say the descriptions are among the most embarrassing parts of this situation. No one wants to give their church any financial documentation that includes the word “sexy,” let alone pairing that worldly word with their less-than-ideal clothing size.
Furthermore, I feared the unknown…
Who at the church would need to sign off on this documentation for accounting purposes?
The senior pastor?
The church treasurer? (who, oh-by-the-way, works for the local police department)
Would my scandal be disclosed on the next financial report given to the church board, of which I am the acting secretary?
Finally, desperately, I emailed our church’s new office administrator. I confessed to the depths of my crime and embarrassment and pleaded, “Jenny…WHAT DO I DO?????”
Ever the godly, gracious woman, she clarified I only needed to give her a check and a note that said I accidentally made some personal purchases. That piece of paper will be enough to appease the accountants and clear my debt.
So, to sum it all up… Yes. I embezzled $143.61 from the church. For lingerie. And I lived to tell the story.
I’ve permanently deleted that credit card from my Amazon account so this never happens again. I’ve also written a check to the church and will be avoiding contact with all pastoral staff and youth group volunteers until further notice. If you’d like to be part of my restorative lament, find me at the altar this Sunday.
In the meantime, I humbly invite you to watch for the release of my book about surrendering our money to the Lord.
Then make sure to follow me for more financial advice.**
(**advice of what NOT to do)
Break the endless cycle of poor financial decisions and experience freedom from the anxiety, emptiness, and broken relationships of misplaced priorities.
Stop relying on the world’s tactics and solutions. Start pursuing the Holy Spirit’s real, lasting transformation – from the inside out