“What is to Prevent Us?”

Sermon preached Sunday, April 28, 2024, the Fifth Sunday of Easter at Lutheran Church of Our Saviour in North Chesterfield, VA. 

I love other people’s enthusiasm. I love how contagious it is. I love how all it takes is one person’s passionate response to something to get a whole group of people involved. Have you ever been to a meeting or a planning session where one person’s enthusiasm gets everybody worked up and the ideas are flying across the room and everyone is honestly, truly, excited about doing what needs to be done? I live for those moments.

Maybe it’s because I’m already a pretty enthusiastic person. If you haven’t noticed—and I’m sure you have—I talk with my hands. They’re almost always moving, especially when I’m passionate about something. I sometimes talk fast, as if there are so many words and ideas rolling around in my head that I almost can’t get them out fast enough. I laugh loudly. I use hyperbole liberally, noting that far too many things are “the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.”

And maybe all of this is why I love the first story we heard this morning so much. Acts of the Apostles is full of stories about conversion and baptism, but this one I think is my favorite. This story about the Ethiopian eunuch stands out amidst the sermons, miracles and confrontations with authorities. If nothing else, this Ethiopian eunuch is enthusiastic—especially about his faith.

This man has a high power position with the Ethiopian royal court, even if his social status is still rather low. He is in charge of the entire treasury for the queen. He is trusted and is likely well compensated for his loyalty. And yet even with his lofty role, he takes the very long journey to Jerusalem. He goes to worship at the temple, even though, being a eunuch, he wouldn’t be considered a whole man and wouldn’t be able to fully participate in temple worship.

He reads the prophet Isaiah to himself, even though he struggles to understand it. He invites Phillip, a stranger on the road, up into his chariot to teach him. He sees a small bit of water and immediately wants to be baptized. He goes on his way rejoicing and proclaiming the good news of Jesus.

This Ethiopian’s enthusiasm can be best highlighted in the question he asks Phillip: “What is to prevent me from being baptized?”

What would our faith look like if we lived with such enthusiasm? What would it mean to operate out of a place of possibility and hope instead of doubt and pessimism. What might be the questions we would ask?

What is to prevent us from providing food for the hungry and shelter for the homeless?

What is to prevent us from offering equal opportunities to everyone, regardless of race, gender, creed, or any of the other labels we love to put on other human beings?

What is to prevent us from boldly proclaiming the freedom and abundant life we have in Jesus Christ?

These questions, and more questions. What is to prevent us from living our faith and not just talking about it on Sunday mornings?

What is to prevent us from being God’s presence in the world? What is to prevent us from being God’s hands?

I have a classmate from high school. His name is Dwight. We haven’t kept in touch much, but Facebook makes the world small. Nine years ago, he had been attempting to climb Mt. Everest. Let me remind you that nine years ago, in April of 2015, an earthquake hit Nepal…and it hit while he was on Mt. Everest. His expedition was safe, though an avalanche near them took out most of their base camp and ended eighteen lives. Instead of trying to get out of the country as quickly as possible, Dwight and some of his fellow climbers leapt into the rescue effort, helping as much as they could.

Dwight had the Silicon Valley money to afford a helicopter evacuation. He could buy his way onto a flight home. Instead, he asked himself, “What is to prevent me from doing what I can here?” Instead of taking that flight, he donated what it would have cost to the villages he could get to, started up a fundraising site for those same villages and stuck around for at least a month to lend his hands, feet, body and soul to the place he found himself in.

We might not have the financial resources that could allow us to do what Dwight did, but what is to prevent us from doing something when faced with a community in need? What is to prevent us from stepping up like the people we see or read about who accomplish remarkable things? What is to prevent us? Nothing. Nothing, because of what Jesus tells us in verses from the Gospel of John we heard this morning.

Jesus tells us, “I am the true vine.” Jesus is the vine, we are the branches. “…the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine.” We cannot bear fruit unless we abide in Christ—and when we abide in Christ, that is when some truly amazing things are done.

When we abide in God, we have the resources and sustenance to do the will of God. When we abide in God, we are grounded in prayer and discernment, and find ourselves asking what God wants of us, rather than what we want for ourselves.

The branches do nothing apart from God: they die, their ideas die, the momentum and enthusiasm dies the more it moves away from God and instead focuses on us. This is the reality of everything we do as church. When we focus on things that aren’t God, it just doesn’t work.

If our main goal and focus is to increase membership, or giving, or pay off our mortgage faster, or renovate a space, we will never succeed. Those goals are not us abiding in the vine. We will not have the patience, endurance, or energy to see them through.

But if our goal is to spread the Gospel of Christ, or to show God’s abundance love through word and deed, or to truly welcome the stranger (instead of seeing them as another warm body)—then we are abiding in the true vine. Then we can have true, lasting, renewal. Focusing on God’s mission may very well result in more people or more money, but it’s not the goal. Our eyes are on God—our lives are abiding in God and God has promised to abide in us.

When we remember our roots and ask what God is calling us to do instead of letting fear take over, real change and life and growth happens. Let’s ask the questions of hope instead of the questions of fear.

Instead of: How can we get more members?” Or “How can we be sure we do things the way they’ve always been done?” Or “How can we get more money?”

Let’s flip the script like the Ethiopian Eunuch and look for the new places God is taking us.

Let’s ask:

“What is to prevent us from abiding in God?” “What is to prevent us from discerning God’s will for this place and this people?” “What is to prevent us from doing something remarkable for the sake of the Gospel?”

What is to prevent us?

Nothing.

And Christ, the True Vine, will give us the life to do it.

Amen.

One More Time for the People in the Back

Sermon preached Sunday, September 25, 2022, the Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost, at Lutheran Church of Our Saviour in North Chesterfield, VA.

Okay, so you know that there are some weeks where our readings don’t have a super clear through line or theme or maybe there are a whole bunch of different things happening…but that’s not today. Today, the message is clear: wealth, unchecked and hoarded, will not lead to happiness, life, or wholeness. Not of self, not in relationship with others, and not in relationship with God.

The prophet Amos doesn’t mince words, holding up a mirror to all the ways the people of Israel reveled in their food, wine, and resources while the poor, the widows, the orphans, the stranger, are left out in the cold.

In the second reading, the letter to Timothy, Timothy is reminded that in his baptismal promises, he is committed to advocating for those who are oppressed. He is also encouraged to remind others who have riches that their true wealth is in their life of faith, in the blessings they have received from God and in the things they share with others and use for the work of God’s reign.

And, of course, there is once again a parable from Jesus, this time about a rich man and a poor man named Lazarus, who is covered in sores and who longs for even a tiny bit of food that might fall from the rich man’s table. Instead, he dies and, while he his carried away by angels to be with Abraham, the rich man also dies and is sent to Hades where he is in terrible torment.

The rich man asks Abraham to send Lazarus to his brothers to warn them and Abraham’s response makes a good point: you and your brothers have already had all the law and the prophets, you’ve already had God’s Word, why would they listen if someone came to them from the dead?

I feel like we can hear Jesus speaking directly to all of us—the listeners then and each of us now—saying basically the same thing: you have been told, through scripture, through the words of the prophets, living and dead, that the love and idolization of wealth is a path of death.

And it’s not a path of death because God makes it so, but rather because when money, when wealth, when power becomes the ultimate goal, we lose relationships, we lose love, we lose compassion, we lose all the parts of life that make life worth living.

This juxtaposition of wealth and power against deprivation and oppression was especially on display the past week. We witnessed one of the most opulent funerals, probably of our lifetime, filled with pageantry and pomp and just massive amounts of money spent. We also continue to hear stories from around the world that highlight those wealth inequities. Pakistan still has huge swaths of land underwater. Hurricane Fiona hit Puerto Rico, causing devastation of homes, businesses, and crops. In our own backyard, we hear stories of how rising prices continue to squeeze wallets and force families to make impossible decisions.

I don’t have super strong feelings one way or the other about Queen Elizabeth II, or about the English monarchy in general. I do, however, have strong feelings about well-done liturgy, and so I watched several clips over the past few days of the service, wanting to hear the music, the homily, the prayers.

And you know what? Strip away the trappings of royalty, of wealth, of power, of status…the service itself, at its core, was almost identical to the service I would officiate for any one of you at the time of your death, or, since I hope not to do any of your funerals any time soon, identical to any number of services I’ve done in my years of ministry.

The words of scripture are the same. The prayers are the same. The hope that those who loved and now mourn this great monarch need to hear is the same hope that every grieving person of faith has to hold on to.

The gospel reading that Queen Elizabeth selected for her service? John 14:1-9a. The passage where Jesus reminds us that there are many dwelling places prepared for us and that Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. Easily two-thirds of the funerals I’ve done have featured this reading. Not because it’s required, but because it means deep and abiding comfort to people in pain.

I mention this because it’s worth repeating: when it comes to our who we are at our core, our deepest and truest identity is a beloved child of God.

No matter our title, how much money we have in the bank, the size of our house, the amount of food in our pantry—no matter any of it, we are God’s children, not any better or worse, not any higher or lower. We all make up the body of Christ. When one part is hurting or deprived or weakened, it doesn’t matter how well others are doing, the whole body is.

So, what does that mean for how we live?

It means that any way of thinking that is “us-them” or “me first” is antithetical to reign of God. We are called to look around and see who isn’t currently at our table, look for who is sitting outside the gate, hoping for scraps—and we are not called to offer them scraps, but to invite them inside, care for them, and welcome them to a seat at the table.

It can be so tempting to focus merely on ourselves, to only make sure that we have what we need, even if it’s at the expense of others. But when we do that, we ignore our siblings in Christ.

Even across two thousand years, the parable of Lazarus and Rich Man still has the same sense of urgency and irony. Like the Rich Man, we have heard, over and over again what God is calling us to do with the wealth and resources we have been made stewards of. And, like the Rich Man, over and over again, we too often opt to secure power, privilege, and prosperity for ourselves, maybe tossing a proverbial bone to Lazarus, but never taking the real message to heart.

So today, we hear it again.

And today, we are reminded again of what Moses and the prophets have to tell us.

The challenge is, what are we going to do about it?

Will we strive to change the way we live, the way we think about our money, the way we treat others who have less?

Or will we nod attentively, then shrug our shoulders and turn back in ourselves?

The question is there. The urging of God is there.

What are we going to do?

Amen.

Where Do You Want Your Heart to Be?

Sermon preached Sunday, August 7, 2022, the 9th Sunday after Pentecost, at Lutheran Church of Our Saviour in Chesterfield, VA.

This morning’s gospel reading from Luke isn’t very long, but it still has four distinct parts that don’t necessarily seem to go along with each other. Each part is only a sentence or two and there isn’t really a transition between them. They can feel disconnected.

“Have no fear, little flock.” That’s how it begins: with a reminder of God’s promise to provide for God’s people.

And that promise of provision leads into Jesus’ remarks about selling possessions and giving alms to the poor and not selfishly hoarding one’s treasure. After all, if God has promised to provide, then we should be able to be generous with our wealth.

Then there are the two metaphors for Christ’s return: as the master of the house and as a thief. These warnings can seem ominous. “Be ready!”

The warnings that come at the end are not meant to scare us straight or thrown us into paralyzing fear of doing anything wrong…but remind us that we need not put off God’s work.  It is here for us to do now. We can take care of our neighbors now. We can prioritize God’s mission now. We don’t need to wait until the last minute, because who knows when that last minute will be?  Jesus says it plainly, “Be dressed for action and have your lamps lit.”

One of the things we tend to ignore or put off is addressing our relationship to stuff. We’d rather focus on almost anything else. The Gospel of Luke, in particular, though, talks a lot about wealth and money and our relationship to it. Remember last week when we heard the story of the rich man and his barns? Later, in chapter 18, Jesus tells another man that he must sell all he owns and give the money from to the poor if he is to have eternal life. Conversely, Jesus in Luke continually talks about the generosity of people who have little, like the widow at the temple who contributes a small amount, but it is everything she owns.

In this passage, it’s that well-known verse about “where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” A lot of times this is interpreted to mean that if you look at where you give your time or money, you’ll see what you prioritize, and that’s true, to an extent. We give of ourselves to things that we value. But this verse can also be understood to be prescriptive: if you begin to put your treasure into something, your heart will follow. You will be more invested. Your life will benefit.

Think about it. It’s true! It’s like when you’re ready to buy a new car. It doesn’t matter what car you choose, all of a sudden, you’re going to see that car everywhere. Or it’s like anything you pay a fee to do: the gym, music lessons, a magazine subscription: you feel guilty if you don’t take advantage of it because you’ve already spent the money and so your heart is already somewhat engaged.

This morning we’re going to talk about treasure: financial treasure and the treasure of our other resources, like our property, our time, our energy, and our gifts. Oftentimes when we talk about money in the church, we are talking about it because we need it. And, truth be told, a congregation does need money if we want to maintain our buildings and programs—otherwise everything will simply decay and fall down around us. But even though all of that is true, we leave part of the story out. We don’t do a great job of talking about how giving can transform us, not just our building.

And giving can be transformative. It can change the way we think about money; it can change our spending habits; it can change our understanding of ownership.

There’s a story about a congregation in Ohio. For a long time, over a hundred years, this congregation had been worshiping as a neighborhood and city grew around it and expanded. It had a long life of lively worship and well-attended programs…but then the neighborhood began to shift. It happened slowly, but it seemed like overnight, everything had changed.

As members moved out of the neighborhood, some continued to commute back for worship on Sundays, but many simply changed their membership to another church. The building sat empty, day after day, except for Sunday mornings, when a few extra cars showed up, the only signals that worship was happening inside.

The congregation’s wealth and resources—not just money, but time and talent and energy—were being hoarded, metered out carefully and sparingly, anything to make them last just a little longer. This congregation understood these resources as finite and as theirs. They weren’t God’s. Instead of the neighborhood, they put their money in themselves, in the congregation that had become little more than a social club for a small group of people.

Their treasure was being put into keeping that club together, so that’s where their heart was—in themselves.

The congregation reached a point when it knew it couldn’t go on anymore. Money was draining away fast and there was no sign of that trend slowing to reversing. With only a few months left to go before the accounts hit zero, they decided to close the doors and move on. Just as they reached that decision, however, someone had an idea—what if they went for broke?

What if they went all in on the neighborhood? What if, instead of being afraid and coming from a place of scarcity, they decided to just give all they had to the people around them and see what happened? Certainly, there was skepticism…but at this point, there was nothing to lose! Soon, the congregation would be history, so what was the harm in trying something new?

And that’s what they did. Once they decided to invest their treasure in the community, some really incredible things began to happen. First of all, they actually got to know the people who lived in the houses surrounding them! Through conversations, they began to hear and understand the needs and hopes of their neighbors. And it was through this intentional listening that they had direction for their next steps.

Before long, there was a weekly hot meal happening once a week. When it began, all it had was a short prayer, but soon people were asking for more and in time that hot meal was followed by a full-fledged worship service. Tutoring and afterschool care began happening as members realized they had skills in education and mentorship that weren’t being utilized and that the space that had previously sat empty Monday through Saturday would be perfect for working with children and youth.

In short, this tiny congregation invested its treasure—its money, its energy, and its resources—in the community instead of selfishly keeping it for themselves, and their hearts followed. Now, these members who weren’t interested in their neighbors, who were wary about trying anything new—these people say they can’t imagine it any other way! They get deep joy out of what they see happening. Their hearts are full and overflowing with God’s love because they made the bold choice to put their treasure into God’s work and not into simply keeping themselves alive for a few more months.

This story is an example of what can happen on a communal level when we decide to put our treasure into something new. There was new life and new purpose and all kind of action from the Holy Spirit. As you look at your life, where is your treasure going? As we look at our life as a congregation, where are we putting our treasure? Is it somewhere we want our heart to be?

This way of thinking requires trust. It can be scary to reassess or reallocate our resources when we feel like they are scarce. After all, what happens if we give them all away and there is nothing left? But we have a God of abundance; a God who does not abandon us; a God whose good pleasure it is to give us the kingdom. So, although things might change and shift and our expectations might get turned on their heads, we can be assured that God’s provision will carry us through.

Let’s put our treasure into God’s work.

Amen.

Identity

Sermon preached the weekend of October 10, 2021, the Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost, at Grace Lutheran Church in Westminster, Maryland. 

Well, this is the second week in a row where I wish I Jesus had been a little heavier on the love and a little lighter on the words of law. Thanks, Jesus. But here we are: last week was divorce and this week Jesus is talking about another “off-limits” topic—money.

We have this funny relationship with finances and faith. It seems that, for many people, God has something to say about every aspect of our lives, except our budget: that we think should be left alone. But is there really anything that God should not have a say in? Do we really believe that God doesn’t care what we do with our resources? We read passages like today and explanations start rolling in about what Jesus “really” meant when he talked about a camel and an eye of a needle. But we cannot ignore Jesus’ words when he said, “How hard it will be for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!” Hard, he says, not impossible.

Most of us, as Christians who live in an extremely wealthy nation, who, by virtue of owning a television or refrigerator, are wealthier than many in the world, face a pretty challenging dilemma. It is a struggle for us to figure out how to use our money in a faithful way that honors God. There are so many ways we choose to use our money and we are prone to give to something “fun” before we give to God’s work in the world.

But let’s get back to the Gospel story this morning. Can you imagine being this wealthy man who comes up to Jesus? He has lived his life by the rules taught to him. He follows the Jewish law to a “T.” He keeps the commandments handed down to Moses and passed through the generations. He doesn’t murder or commit adultery. He doesn’t steal or bear false witness. He honors his father and mother. And through it all, he has managed to amass quite a nice life for himself. The text says he has a lot of possessions. In my mind, I see him with probably a large home, filled with servants to do his bidding; luxurious clothing, fine wine, ample stores filled with whatever he might decide he wants. And this wealth that he possesses gives him power, status, and security.

Jesus tells this man to sell everything he owns and give the proceeds to the poor. What a command! Before Jesus says this, however, he looks at him and loves him. Did you catch that? This man is loved by God before he has checked off all the boxes on his “to-do” list and before he has followed through on Jesus’ next steps. Jesus, just in looking at him, loved him.

This is really important for us to hear. It is vital that we hear how precious we are in the sight of God, how beloved we are, even when we may not be doing all we could theoretically do to support God’s reign in the world.

The same is true of the disciples. The disciples are constantly trying to do everything right. They are like overeager students whose only goal is to impress the teacher. They aim to prove that they are the smartest, the most dedicated, the most faithful, the most spirit-filled person in Jesus’ entourage…and they almost always get it completely wrong. They argue about who is the greatest and Jesus reminds them that the one who wants to be great must be a servant of all. They get upset because some unnamed exorcist is casting out demons and Jesus tells them, “Whoever is not against us is for us.”

Here, Peter tries to tell Jesus (can you imagine?) that the disciples have done everything they possibly can to follow Jesus. Jesus’ response, of course, is to remind them that there is always more to give. Peter says that the disciples have left everything and followed you and Jesus pushes back.

Jesus makes promises to the disciples, promises that carry through to us. Jesus tells the disciples, “Truly I tell you, there is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields, for my sake and for the sake of the good news, who will not receive a hundredfold now in this age—houses, brothers and sisters, mothers and children, and fields with persecutions.” When we give up all that we have, when we use our resources to provide for the poor and all dismissed by society, when we care more for the well-being of others than ourselves, there will be consequences.

These consequences have to do with where we inevitably find our identity. If our identity is in this world, then we must be concerned about titles or bank accounts, or how many people invite us to parties. We would be people who pursue money and personal wealth rather than disciples of Jesus who choose to live simpler and share what they have. We would stay with people who are like us—same socio-economic status, same race, same language, same culture—instead of struggling and working to build relationships with those we have little in common with because they, like us, are loved by God.

Jesus’ words here are a challenge to us, to the disciples, to the original rich man. This man must revisit his identity. As a wealthy man, this man was part of certain social circles. He wielded a certain amount of power. Take away his possessions, and he is a nobody with no influence. Who is he now?

The disciples are revisiting their identities as well. They assumed that they were already doing everything they needed to do to be a disciple of Jesus, and then Jesus tells them it takes more sacrifice and more giving of oneself—it’s not just about following the letter of the law.

And Jesus invites us to revisit our identity…because the promise Jesus makes us is not only in the afterlife. The promise that Jesus makes us is one of a new identity and new community: today, here, and now.

“Truly I tell you, there is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields, for my sake and the sake of the good news, who will not receive a hundredfold now in this age—houses, brothers and sisters, mothers and children, and fields…”

We tend to hear this in a very individual way: we, our selves, will each receive hundredfold these abundant blessings. …but what if we change our way of thinking? What if these hundredfold gifts are what this new, God-infused community receives?

We will receive a new community, a new family in the body of Christ, a new life to live into. We are graced with new relationships that form and blossom when our identity moves beyond our bank balance or list of assets. And this new community is reshaped and reformed each week as we gather together in-person and online to participate in hearing the word and receiving the sacraments.

At the font we confess our sins together and hear forgiveness proclaimed for us, beloved children of God, brothers and sisters in Christ. At the table we stand or sit together, equally in need of the body and blood of our self-giving God.

Your deepest identity is found with God: you are a created, loved, redeemed, blessed child of God. How incredible would it be if we operated out of that identity? Would our relationships change? Would our interactions with strangers change? Would the amount of unnecessary stuff we keep in our home change? Would the amount of money we give to God and God’s work in the world change?

There’s only one way to find out.

Amen.

Stewardship 3: Giving is in Proportion to Income

Sermon preached Sunday, October 7, 2018, the Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost, at St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Littlestown, PA. This is part of a four-part series on Stewardship. 

We continue this week with our emphasis on stewardship. We’ve explored how giving is an act of worship and how giving should be systemic and regular. Today, I’d like to talk about how giving should be in proportion to income.

In other words, we give according to what we have been given, by God or through our work. This is easy to understand when we talk about non-financial gifts: if we are a talented musician, we can give of our musical skills. If we are a good leader, we can find places to lead. If we are a good teacher or care giver, we can serve in those roles. If we are a good cook or baker, we can bring delicious things to fellowship events or offer to prepare a meal for someone who needs a night off. This makes sense.

It also makes sense when we talk about money, but we are less inclined to see it that way. Instead of understanding that everyone’s financial picture looks different and therefore every person’s giving should be approached in a different way, we often still fall into unspoken traps of feeling like people who give more should have more influence in a congregation or that someone isn’t fully committed if they don’t give very much.

But giving should be in proportion to income. Just go back to our gospel reading this morning, as Jesus watches the crowd giving money to the Temple. The wealthy people put in many coins—probably many noisy coins that made quite a racket as they fell in. They drew attention to themselves and the gifts they gave.

…and then comes this woman. She’s a widow… a poor widow, which is almost redundant, as most widows were poor and vulnerable, relying on their children, if they had any, or husband’s family for support. She approaches the treasury and places in her two copper coins which may have made a solitary *clink*. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was a bit embarrassed—all these other folks were putting in so much and she had so little.

And yet, it is her faith that is praised, her gift that is lifted up. All else being equal, her gift was bigger than that of the rich ones. Looked at proportionately, her gift was far costlier and more sacrificial and would have a much larger impact on her life.

When we talk about giving proportionately, the idea of tithing often comes up. To tithe means to give one-tenth of what you have received back. It’s a good practice and it can be a good goal…but ten percent can also be a huge amount. If someone is only making $1500 a month, choosing to give $150 a month might mean that they are not able to afford rent, electricity and food. On the other hand, if someone is making $5,000 a month, it may not be as big of a deal for $500 of that to be given away. The point I’m trying to make is that tithing does direct us toward proportional giving, but it is not the only way.

And, even if you’d like to tithe and want to set that as a goal, you don’t need to go zero to sixty all at once. If, say, you’re only able to give 1% of your income now, maybe think about increasing it a half percent in the next year…and maybe the year after that, another half percent. These small incremental changes can really grow a person’s giving over time.

There’s another way to think about it, though, that doesn’t require nearly as much math. Think about what you already spend money on, the things that you are already making priorities in your life…and maybe think about making your faith life as big of a priority.

I know some people who choose to give to the church the same amount they pay in a gym membership every month because they think their spiritual well-being is as important as their physical.

Others might look at how much they spend on their children’s after-school and extracurricular activities and decide to match that amount in their offering because the lessons learning through a faith community are as equally valued as the lessons of leadership, problem-solving, athleticism, teamwork, and other skills gained through sports or the arts or other clubs.

Others might match what they spend in eating out in a given month, or what they spend on take-out coffee. Still others might choose a larger bench mark, like their total utility bills or car payment or something else that helps them figure out a good bench mark for them.

That’s the big take away here: every person is different and everyone’s giving will look different. Even if two people have, in theory, the same income, there are a hundred different factors at play that impact how that money is spent or saved or given. Your giving is your giving and only you can determine what is right for you and your family through deep prayer and conversation with God.

You are not a better Christian if you give more than others. You are not a worse Christian if you give less than others. We give out of what we have and the notion of sacrificial giving does not mean that put ourselves in unnecessary debt or that we go without food or that we all leave our homes because we want to give to God. No, God wants us to care for ourselves and care for all who may be struggling.

When we have plenty, we can give generously out of that plenty to worship God and support others in our community. When we have little and may be struggling, we give what we can manage, and trust God to provide through the community we have surrounded ourselves with.

We are one body in Christ, helping each other, supporting each other, receiving the gifts others have offered and, above all, loving one another, as God has first loved us. And when we give, we give out of that love.

Amen.

Stewardship 2: Giving is Systemic

Sermon preached Sunday, October 7, 2018, the Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost, at St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Littlestown, PA. This is part of a four-part series on Stewardship. Audio can be found here.

It’s our second week of focusing on Stewardship. Previously, we explored how giving is an act of worship. Today, we’ll take a look at how giving is—or should be!—systemic.

By systemic, I simply mean “regular.” It is important for us to give on a regular basis out of what we have. To do anything well, we need to do it consistently.

I think about when I was in college. I was a music major and, as you might guess, my main instrument was voice. I dabbled and explored other instruments, as I was required to for classes: I studied percussion and brass and woodwinds and strings, but I really only ever learned enough to barely scratch the surface.

I was also required to take two semesters of piano. The idea was, even if you weren’t a pianist and never really got that good, you would at least be able to play some things and perhaps even a bit of the accompaniment if you ever found yourself needing to help a group out in that way. I passed my proficiencies and began to think that, hey, maybe I could actually be good at piano!

I signed up for private lessons the next semester. I was motivated! I was excited! And so, when I had my first lesson and my professor assigned me the pieces we’d be working on, I dutifully took them down to my practice room. That first week, I was in there almost every day. The second week was about the same. The third week, I think I made it four days. The fourth, only a few. …as you can tell, my motivation was waning. I wasn’t as excited about it anymore. I didn’t live in the dorms anymore, so I could practice my vocal music at home and my visits to my practice room grew fewer and farther between.

As you might imagine, my piano skills didn’t exactly excel during that time. I barely progressed from week to week. I must have frustrated my professor so much. Every week we would work together and I would promise I’d practice what we’d discussed…and then I wouldn’t. And then I would trip over the same measures over and over.

It’s because I wasn’t practicing. I wasn’t approaching the piano in a systemic way. I wasn’t developing skills that I could build upon. Instead, I was patching together my playing in a way that never took hold.

I tell you this rather unflattering story because giving is a skill, just like playing piano or reading or cooking or playing a sport. It’s something that we develop and something that we can get better at—but only if we do it regularly. I don’t necessarily think every person needs to give every week, because circumstances vary for each of us…but our giving should be well-thought out and prayed over. Instead of being surprised every week by the fact that the offering plates are going around, try to come up with a plan that works for you.

For my family, it means a reminder in my calendar to write a check for the last Sunday of each month. We choose to give monthly, rather than weekly, because it works best for us in our larger budget. I know other people who don’t want to rely on their own memory, and so have money automatically withdrawn from their bank account each month. Still others have carefully prayed over their giving and take joy in writing a check each week and placing it in the plate. The first few times it might feel strange and it still might catch us off guard…but in time it will begin to feel normal, or expected, or part of a larger routine in our faith life, like saying grace before a meal or saying a prayer before bed.

It takes time to encourage a new habit. It might take reminders on our phones or taping an offering envelope to our steering wheel on Saturday night to make sure we don’t forget it. And it’s still okay even if we do forget! We can always just take care of it the next week!

In our Gospel reading from this morning, Jesus tells a parable of a rich man who has more than he knows what to do with. If he had been giving systemically to his community, to the orphan and the widow and the resident alien, he likely wouldn’t have that problem. He wouldn’t have a hoard. He’d have enough. He’d have plenty. …but so would those in need around him.

Jesus tells the crowd not to worry, that God has provided for the flora and fauna, and so God will also provide for them. Here’s the thing: he doesn’t tell them not to plan—he tells them not to worry.

For many of us, this is a tricky distinction. I know that my planning can very quickly turn to worrying when I look at our monthly budget and start to think, “Well, but what if when I take my car in next week it needs new tires?” or “What if the washer stops working and I need to replace it?” or “What if Libby (my dog, for those of you who don’t know) gets sick and has to have an expensive vet visit?”

None of this is planning. It’s all worrying. Planning is saying, “Let’s set aside x amount of money every month to try and save for emergencies,” or “Here I’ve collected all the contact information for organizations and agencies that can help me get food or pay utility bills if money runs short this month.”

Worrying will not sustain us. God will. God will provide, even if it is in ways we can’t see or don’t understand or haven’t planned for. …and it is that provision that allows us to plan: to plan our spending and our giving.

When we trust that God provides for us, that God is working through all sorts of channels and people to help us cover our necessities, it becomes much easier to commit to regular giving. We can faithfully put that $5 in the offering plate, having planned well and having trust that we won’t need to hoard that money for ourselves.

We don’t need a bigger barn because the one we have is plenty, and so we can regularly give what have back to God and to our neighbor. Amen.

Stewardship 1: Giving is an Act of Worship

Sermon preached Sunday, September 23, 2018, the Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost, at St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Littlestown, PA. This is part of a four-part series on Stewardship. Audio can be found here.

Giving is an act of worship.

How many of you actually think about it that way? How many of you think about God when you write your offering check or when you pull out your wallet when the plate comes your way? Or are you more often thinking about how the church needs money to pay it’s bills or any one of the worthwhile causes we support here?

It’s true, our money does serve a purpose. It keeps the lights on, it pays staff salaries, it supports the life of this congregation and the ministries we are connected to…but it’s more. We don’t give just to make things happen. We give because it is an act of worship.

That’s why we collect offering in the midst of a worship service. We very easily could just put a basket out by the door and have you put your envelope there as you came in. We could just send you a quarterly bill, like water or sewer company. But we don’t. We place our time of offering smack dab in the middle of the action.

The act of giving, the ritual of giving, is part of the way we worship. We pray, we read scripture, we share this meal together—and we give back to God some of what God has first given us. If you notice, in the pews, there is a card designed for people to put in the offering plate if they only give once a month or if they give electronically: this way, they can participate in the ritual, even if their gift is coming in a different way or at a different time.

Our second reading from Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians has him giving some specific instructions: “On the first day of the week, each of you is to set something aside and store it up…” (1 Cor. 16:2)

Even in the earliest Christian communities, followers of Jesus were giving what they could, some to support those who could not support themselves, and some out of pure devotion.

On the first day of the week, on the Sabbath, on Sunday, we celebrate the generosity of God by being generous. We give for the sake of others. We give for the sake of Christ’s church. We give for our own sake, to demonstrate our trust in God to provide and our deep gratitude.

It’s because of that last piece that we don’t necessarily need our gifts to always be useful or efficient. God gives out of incredible abundance, extravagantly providing more than we could ever need. Sometimes our own giving could stand to be a little extravagant.

For the people in Jesus’ time, the most important offerings they gave were not supposed to be useful. They gave of their first harvest or of the first animals born that season. These offerings would be placed on the altar and burned. Some might call it useless. Some might call it a waste…but in fact this was a huge act of devotion and trust. God will provide, so giving sacrificially is not a problem. There will still be enough.

This is echoed in the story from the Gospel of Matthew we also heard this morning. A woman approaches Jesus and pours expensive ointment on him. She is wasting the ointment in the disciples eyes. This costly product was perhaps not prudent of her to buy in the first place, when it would be more practical for her to have bought food or some other useful item, but she gave it freely to Jesus. The disciples wanted that money to be spent on something more necessary.

But that’s just it—for this woman, anointing Jesus and showing her devotion to him is necessary. She worships him with a sacrificial gift. And she does it joyfully and not begrudgingly.

This isn’t so hard for us to comprehend when we think about our own giving to the people we love. When we love someone and care about them, we want to give them things. Sometimes those things are expensive. Sometimes they cost us not money, but time and energy. But we happily give up that money or effort because we know it will please the one we love. We don’t worry if it is the “best use of our resources,” we just want to see the smile and know that the person understands how important they are to us.

It can be the same way with our offering. Yes, we have bills to pay as a congregation. Yes, a portion of our collective funds also goes to support things like New Hope, Survivor’s, Habitat for Humanity and any number of other worthy causes. …but first and foremost our offering is an act of worship, praise, and, most of all, love.

The next time you write your offering check or put something in the plate as it passes by you, think about that. Is your gift joyful and full of love? Or is it an obligation? What would it take to change the way you see your giving? And if you can’t afford to give money, how do you view the things you do give: your time and skills and talents? We worship God with our gifts—and God gives us everything we need.

Amen.