Generosity
Summary
The earliest believers were so united that no one claimed their possessions as their own, and there were no needy persons among them. Pastor Dominic Jackson takes up a subject Jesus addressed often but the church tends to avoid: our relationship with money and possessions. He considers whether this picture of radical sharing is a command for every age or simply a record of one moment. His suggestion is that it is neither so much as an invitation into formation. The specific practices belonged to the early church, but the posture of the heart beneath them remains. Every resource is entrusted to us by God, and generosity flows from trusting him. Dominic invites us to ask not only what we give, but what we are still holding on to.
Questions for reflection
How do you tend to think about what you own: as yours, or as entrusted to you by God? How does that view show up in everyday decisions?
Dominic suggests that underneath our relationship with money is a deeper question: Can the Father actually be trusted? Where do you find it hardest to trust God with your resources?
The early church’s unity of heart came before their generosity with possessions. How might growing in shared calling and community reshape the way you give?
Generosity can take many forms: money, time, talent, attention. In which area do you give most freely, and where might God be inviting you to grow?
The sermon names needs close to home, like children in foster care and neighbors experiencing homelessness. What is one “next thing” you could do to help one person this week?
Like the knights who held their swords out of the water, what part of your life are you keeping back from God? What would it look like to release it to him?
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Dominic Jackson:
There is this true story that has stuck with me since I heard it. And it’s one of those stories that you hear, and initially you’re really moved by it. It’s really inspiring, encouraging—for about 10 seconds. And then, if you’re like me, you start to feel really bad about yourself after thinking about it. Again, at least that’s me.It’s the story of one of my preaching heroes, a guy named John Wesley. Wesley was apparently preaching a sermon—I mean, he preached pretty much every single day. And he was in a little chapel, preaching a sermon one day, and right in the middle of his sermon, somebody comes barging in at the very back—like, kicks open the doors—and says, “Mr. Wesley, your house is on fire!” And then, “Actually, your house has burned down.” To which John Wesley looks at the man, and he looks down at the Bible he’s preaching from, and then he shrugs and says, “Well, it’s not my house. God had the deed to it. And now I guess I’ll have one less thing to be distracted by with the upkeep.” And then he went back to preaching on Romans or whatever.
On this particular account, the writer Randy Alcorn wrote that Wesley’s reaction didn’t stem from a denial of reality. Rather, it sprang from life’s most basic reality: that God is the owner of all things, and we are simply his stewards.
I have to ask: would you respond the same way? I can assure you, by the way, I would not. Maybe that changes your view of me here. But I don’t know if this is more about me or about John Wesley. Like, who is the anomaly in their faith here? And I don’t know if our different reactions have more to do with how we view our homes. Like, I love—I’ve been so blessed with having a house. And Megan and I love to open up our home and host people and bring people in—strangers, sometimes—and make memories with our kids. And it’s one of the places where I feel closest to God. Like, in the backyard, on the deck, late at night when I can’t sleep. I love my house. I’m not saying that John Wesley didn’t have a cool house. Maybe he did. I don’t know. But is this more about my weakness in faith, that I would not respond this way? Or is this a spiritual superiority that John Wesley, the preacher, had? What do you do with a story like this?
Well, today we are going to talk about not just homes, but possessions. And mostly—if it’s okay with you—I’m just going to preach to myself for half an hour, and you guys can eavesdrop for a little bit. But in this conversation, there’s just no way around it: we are going to talk about money. Womp, womp, right?
Now, I have to confess this to you guys: I hate talking about money so much. I’ve been preaching for almost 20 years—my very first sermon was in the summer of 2008, so I’m rolling up on two decades here. And I’ve digitized all of my sermons over the years, so I’ve been able to see themes, and I have them in different categories. And what I’ve noticed is that I’ve preached more on the history of animal sacrifice than I have on money. There’s this obscure story—if you remember flannelgraphs and VBS, maybe you remember half the story—about these teenagers who are making fun of a prophet, and they call him “baldy,” and then there are these bears. I’ve preached more on that story than I have on money. I have preached on so many different subjects. It’s almost like I’ve been avoiding it.
Which is funny, because the Bible talks about it all the time. In fact, other than the kingdom of God, which is number one, the second most frequent thing Jesus talks about is money. And by the way, number three is a huge drop. Kingdom of God, money, then a bunch of other stuff, right? Jesus talked about money twice as much as he talked about love. He talked about money seven times more than he talked about prayer. And Jesus was a big fan of love and prayer, by the way. But it’s almost like he knows the human heart. Which is why 25 percent of his sermons mention money. That would be like me coming up once a month and talking about finances. I don’t even want to do it once a year, right? But if I were following Jesus’ lead, that’s probably what it would look like.
And by the way, it’s not just the Bible. As a society, we talk about money almost more than anything else. It’s the number one factor in careers and calling, which makes sense. It is the number one question that singles have in the back of their minds after they swipe right or left—or whatever direction you swipe—on online dating profiles. That’s the question they’re having: money, future, and debt. It’s the number one argument in marriages. It is the number one answer people give when asked, “If you could change one thing about your life, what would it be?” More money. And so everyone is thinking about money. Everyone’s talking about money, including the Bible. Everyone except for me. So we’re going to change that.
The truth is, as we’re moving through Acts—we’re moving through this chapter by chapter, and it’s taken a while because we want to take our time with it—my hand has been forced here, which is a good thing. Because we’re going to see this theme all throughout Acts, right? It just keeps on coming up. So if you are new, I’m sorry. But hear me out. I promise I’m not trying to get a private jet or a new car. This actually has nothing to do with me. Blame the book of Acts.
Also, my uncle always used to say, “I don’t go to church, because all they want is my money.” To which I would lovingly say, “Uncle, you don’t have any money.” But that’s a different story. Ironically, the one time I got him to church was the money talk. And I’m like, of course it was, right?
So if you are new here, welcome, and I’ll try not to make this weird. If you are not new, though—to be serious, if you are a member of this church, I have to apologize for not honoring my calling in this, and for avoiding it. And there are plenty of reasons why—just the awkwardness, not wanting to be lumped in with other preachers, or sound bites on Instagram, or whatever. But it’s clearly important to God, and it should be to us too.
And then lastly, if you are here—whether you’re new or not—and you’re uncomfortable already: first, join the club. But secondly, I believe there’s a beautiful invitation here, and that is the posture I’m going to be taking. So just to let you know where we’re going: no shame or guilt. Because if someone comes running in and says my house is on fire, I’m going to ask one of you to finish my sermon, and I’m going to go try to put that fire out, okay? So I’m right there with you. God is still working on my heart too. So let’s remove the awkwardness, the shame, the guilt—not to mention the toxic abuse that some pastors and churches have used—remove all of that, and let’s simply look at what the Bible says. Before we do that, would you guys pray with me?
Lord, I pray for your guidance, for your grace, for your understanding as we approach a difficult topic—one that frankly shouldn’t be difficult. Help us—help me—to focus on what is really important here, to lean on your Word, and to seek you in all things: our lives, our devotion, our attention, our friendships, our careers, our callings, and yes, our bank accounts. So, Holy Spirit, meet us where we are, but don’t leave us where you find us. Lead us to be more like Christ Jesus, in whose name we pray. Amen.
Last week, if you were here, we looked at Acts 2:42–47. And I spent pretty much the whole time looking at that first verse. If you remember, it talks about the devotion that the early church had. They were devoted to four things. They were devoted to the apostles’ teaching—we defined that as Scripture; we don’t have any apostles here, right? So, Scripture. They were devoted to fellowship—we defined that as community. They were devoted to the breaking of bread, or communion. And lastly, they were devoted to prayer. And we had to ask the question and be honest with ourselves—and I had to confess areas in my life where I’ve struggled with this. We value these things. We have prioritized these things. We love these things. But have we been devoted to them, the way we see in Acts 2:42 in the early church? So that was the invitation and challenge last week.
However, there’s this whole other passage that—if you were here, you know—I just completely skipped over, right? There was that awkward passage right in the middle, and we read it and it was like, “Oh, okay, that’s interesting. Let’s talk more about communion and prayer,” right? This time, though, it was intentional, because I knew where we were going today.
Last week’s passage talks about them being devoted. Then, in verse 44: “All the believers were together and had everything in common.” And then it says, “They sold property and possessions to give to anyone who had need.” And then it goes on to talk about them meeting together, breaking bread—and tons of people came to faith after, right? And we just kind of skipped over that part. Devotion—and we also read about all of these amazing things God did with this early church. But again, we skipped over that part: “They sold property and possessions to give to anyone who had need.” And again, though I usually avoid it, I knew where we were going today.
But based on what we read last week, and then based on what Kendra just read for us—our central passage for today—the question in some of our minds may be: does Jesus want us to start a commune, right? Is that what we are being called to do today? Are we all going to sell our homes and our cars and our possessions and move into this building together? Don’t tell Quarry Management, who we rent from. There are probably zoning laws against that, right? Or, most importantly, are we all going to take a break here in a moment—“See you in 10 minutes”—and all walk across the street, where conveniently there’s an ATM, pull out all of our money, and lay it at the feet of the elders? Is that what Jesus is calling us to do, based on this text? Is that what the early church wants for us? Is that what our biographer, Luke, is suggesting we do? Is that what the Gateway Church is going to do? The answer is no, by the way. We’re not going to do that.
But then what do you do with a text like this? How do you read it? It’s easy to read it and be like, “Oh, that’s interesting. All right, on to Acts chapter 5,” or whatever, right? Probably annoyingly—admittedly annoyingly, at this point—pretty much every single week I have asked us to consider one question as we look at Scripture. And this isn’t just for Acts, though this is where we’ve been camping out with this one lens. It’s for all of Scripture. I think it’s helpful. It’s to ask ourselves: is what I am reading right now prescriptive or descriptive? Is this a command that God wants for us? Or is this simply a history lesson? And we take things like culture and context and our own modern moment, and God’s desire for the church, into consideration and ask again: is this what God wants for us today, or simply a description of what the early church did?
But the problem with a binary approach to this question is that it leaves us with two options, right? Either we read this as prescriptive—God is prescribing this to his church, then and today—and we do exactly what I suggested. Which means you’re not going home today. This is your new home, right? And we’re taking all your possessions—said every cult leader ever. To be clear, we’re not saying that. Don’t put that on the internet, please.
But if that’s not what we are being told to do, are we just going to read this and chalk it up as a description, not a prescription? We’re moved by the early church. We find it very inspiring. We think about how impressive and admirable their views on money and justice and community were. And then we secretly thank the Lord that we happen to be part of this church and not that church 2,000 years ago. And we leave here and go get $14 avocado toast, right? We just chalk it up to, “Oh, that crazy first church,” right? Because with the prescription-description lens, it kind of feels like you have to choose a side here.
Well, I am going to contradict myself. Though the prescription-description lens has been helpful, today I’m going to suggest a third option—where the intrinsic and extrinsic motivations of a person come together. What is inside a person, and what exists outside of them, come together and meet in the middle. I believe this passage—and what is under it—is both prescription and description. Or, more importantly, I believe it is about formation.
As for specifics—are we going to the ATM? Am I allowed to own two pairs of shoes, or whatever?—we’ll get there. But for this week, let’s worry about the specifics later and first start with the heart behind them. Let’s talk about formation. And with that lens, let’s look at our passage and move through it line by line. If you have a copy of the Scriptures—Kendra just read it for us—we’re going to be hanging out in Acts 4:32. If not, the words will be on the screen.
Acts 4:32. Remember, up to this point, Jesus has commissioned the church. The Holy Spirit comes. There’s Pentecost. The church is gathering. Thousands of people from all different backgrounds are coming to faith. We see these huge, large gatherings. We see the small gatherings in homes.
And in verse 32, it says, “All the believers were one in heart and mind.” That sounds familiar. “No one claimed that any of their possessions was their own, but they shared everything they had.” So pause there for a second. Notice the first line. There is this supernatural unity that is bringing them together. And before we see what happened externally, we see what is bonding them internally, spiritually. Remember, these are people who—a lot of them—would not have been hanging out at all. And here they are, doing the most important work the world had ever seen. And what is bonding them together, of course, is the Holy Spirit, right? Before they shared their stuff, they shared their calling. They shared their mission.
We’ll come back to that second line in a second. But let’s keep going and look at an example of what this calling looked like—what it turned into. Verse 33: “With great power the apostles continued to testify to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus.” So there it is. This is what is bonding them together: the gospel. Jesus. Before their hands are open to sharing their stuff, their eyes are open to the Lord. It says, “And God’s grace was so powerfully at work in them all that there were no needy persons among them. For from time to time those who owned land or houses sold them, brought the money from the sales and put it at the apostles’ feet, and it was distributed to anyone who had need.”
And then we get a specific example of someone who actually did this. We meet a guy named “Joseph, a Levite from Cyprus, whom the apostles called Barnabas (which means ‘son of encouragement’), [who] sold a field he owned and brought the money and put it at the apostles’ feet.”
Okay, so a few takeaways here. First, notice it says “from time to time.” That’s important. “Those who owned land or houses sold them, brought the money from the sales” to the apostles. And so I get the impression—just from a first reading, as well as from the commentaries I read—that right here we’re maybe talking about people with a little more money. In this specific example, they own land and houses, plural. It seems like we’re talking about wealthy people here.
Even the closing example: we have Joseph, a Levite from Cyprus. He sold a field he owned, brought the money, and put it at the apostles’ feet. A few things. First, he was from Cyprus. This was an island, which makes it sound like he had some beachfront property here, right? Or some land there. Additionally, notice that it mentions he was a Levite. This is there for a reason. Levites were not allowed to own property. It was part of their oath, their calling. And so you can read this one of two different ways, I think. First: here’s a generous guy who realizes that he doesn’t actually need to own this property on the beach, on this island. And so, through the conviction of the Holy Spirit, he sells it to take care of those who are in need. Possibly. Or another reading: here’s a Levite who probably shouldn’t have owned the property to begin with. And so here he is, making things right with his calling—the promise he made to the Lord, right? And he sells it. Regardless of his motivation, he sells the land, and people in need are taken care of.
Another thing—notice it says “from time to time.” Not every day. Not, “Here’s your entrance to the church. Prove that you are one of us. Sign away the deed to everything you own,” right? Because in Acts 5—spoiler alert—we’re going to see that people still own homes, and they’re still gathering with the early church, right? And so it doesn’t seem like this is what everyone did with everything. Instead, it seems like when a need would come up, they looked around and said, “Who can help out? We’ve got a brother and sister here who are in need. They’re hungry. They need whatever. Who can help out?” And somebody dipped into their savings, or sold something, and made ends meet. Not exactly communism or cult-like behavior, but an abundance of generosity and faithfulness.
So for now, you can keep your car. Keep your second pair of pants, or whatever, right? We’re not coming for you. However, if you do own, I don’t know, a bunch of property and some land on the beach—let’s talk later, okay? All right. So, great. Easy enough. All of you secret millionaires, pray about it. Or if, I don’t know, some needs come up, one of the leaders will reach out to you. But for the rest of us—what’s for lunch? Right? It’s that easy. We could all go home, and this is what we’re seeing in the verse, right? We’re seeing some wealthy people who sold some stuff and took care of some people. All right.
Unfortunately, there’s that other pesky verse in there that I would love to just skip over—not to mention some others throughout the New Testament too. Notice verse 32: “All the believers were one in heart and mind. No one claimed that any of their possessions was their own, but they shared everything they had.”
A minute ago, it sounded like I was reading this as, “All the believers were one in heart and mind—especially the greedy ones, who really needed this reminder. As for the wealthy believers, they did not claim their possessions as their own, but shared what they had.” That’s kind of how I was reading it initially, especially looking at the details behind this verse, or reflecting on some of the wealthy folks. If you know the story of the New Testament and the early church, there are wealthy people who are supporting Paul and Timothy and the early church—they’re bankrolling it, right? It would be easy to read this as specifically for somebody else. I read a passage like this and think, “Well, if I owned a bunch of property and someone had a need, I guess I could sell that extra house I have in Florida. But since I’m not rich, and I wasn’t part of the church 2,000 years ago, I guess God is not talking to me.”
The problem is, the verse doesn’t say that. It says, “All the believers were one in heart and mind”—the upper-, lower-, and middle-class believers. It also says, “No one claimed that any of their possessions was their own, but they shared everything they had”—not just the rich folks.
So what does this mean for us? Am I going to go back on what I said and revisit the suggestion that we all move into Gateway, right? No, again. But my reading is that the specific practices were for the early church, while the heart posture is one expected of us today—where we view our stuff, our homes, our wallets, even this earth, as on loan to us. Our time, on loan to us. Or as the old hymn says, if you know it: “This world is not my home, I’m just a-passing through.” It’s an old Baptist hymn, right? What does it mean to just be passing through?
And if you’re already feeling guilty—thinking about how much you struggle with the idea of, like, sharing your record collection, which has taken you so long to build up, right? Or your retirement that you’ve worked so hard for, right? Or if you’re feeling guilty about how much you hate it when you loan somebody your car and they never put your seat back—maybe that’s just me, right? If you’re feeling guilty about any of these things, two things. First, I’m right there with you. Again, that John Wesley story—that ain’t me. God is still working on my heart. I’m not there. And secondly, remember: the early church gave willingly. This was an invitation, not a compulsion.
Spiritual formation is a lifelong process. We should always be growing, but God cares more about the heart than the habits. Sometimes the habits reveal the heart, but God cares more about the heart. Which is one of the reasons—no shade if this is part of a church community you’re part of—that we don’t pass plates here. We want generosity to come out of a spirit of faithfulness, not social pressure or awkwardness. I’ve visited churches, or been part of old churches, where the plate gets to me and I pass it and think, “I give online,” or “I gave at the first of the month,” or whatever. And it’s like I care more about what everybody around me thinks than about this opportunity for generosity I have with God, right? Second Corinthians 9:7: “Each of you should give what you have decided in your heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver.”
It’s also why I don’t know who gives at this church. I’m the lead pastor here, and I have no idea who gives and what they give. I have intentionally shielded myself from that. I don’t want to know. I don’t need to know. What I care most about for the congregation is the heart—mine and yours—because this is what I believe God cares most about.
You know that verse you always hear at weddings, or read on Valentine’s Day cards? You know the one. Well, I never hear the first part of that passage quoted, which is funny. First Corinthians 13:3: “If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing. Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.” I never hear that first part, right? And it keeps going. And you could read this relationally—romantically, platonically, right? Because it applies to every version of love, including love of the church, love of the poor, love of God. Personally, I believe God would rather you be generous with a little than insincere, or have impure motivations, with a lot.
And so, in closing, just a couple of thoughts—a couple of questions I think for us to consider—as we read this passage and think, what does this mean for us today? If this is more than just a history lesson—more than, “Oh, that crazy first church; okay, now I’m going to go do whatever I want with my money”—but it’s also not God calling us to mimic and model exactly what they were doing, what do we do with this today?
First question. Jesus teaches us to pray, in the Gospel according to Matthew, “Give us today our daily bread.” And then he points—if you know the story—to the birds and the flowers, because our Father knows what we need. Underneath our relationship with money, time, and possessions is a theological question, and it’s this: can the Father actually be trusted?
There are many stories in the Bible where Jesus says to someone, “Come, follow me.” But did you know there’s only one story where that invitation is declined? So many times Jesus comes across someone and invites them to come and follow him. The only time someone turns him down is the story of the rich man. You may know it. It’s the story in the Scriptures that doesn’t end with the guy following Christ. Instead, he goes away sad, because he just can’t let his money go. Jesus says, in response to this, that you can’t serve God and money. Not that you shouldn’t—you can’t. It’s just not possible. Because one of the clearest evidences that grace has reached the heart is that it eventually reaches what the heart is holding on to. You can have money. You can even be wealthy. But you can’t serve or worship your money—or at least you can’t do that while also worshiping Jesus. And so the question is simple: do you trust God with your resources?
Second question: the early church was known for radical generosity. What is the modern church known for? Now, I’m going to oversimplify. I ran this by a few people to get their opinion. Let me just be the first one to say that I’m oversimplifying a very complex issue and conversation. I’m also not a politician. I’m not a sociologist. I’m mostly just making a comment about numbers here, okay? So do with this what you will.
But as I was reflecting on the early church, and then thinking about the modern church, I was talking to a friend of mine who lives in California. She and her husband are fostering a little boy right now. And she was sharing how so many people in their church have gone out of their way to express respect and admiration—like, “Oh, it’s so cool that you guys are doing this.” So many people have said that with their words, and so few people in the church have actually been helpful.
And so, out of curiosity, I googled how many kids are in foster care in the United States: 348,000. Then I googled how many Christian churches there are in America. I was just curious. Three hundred fifty thousand. And again, I’m oversimplifying. I understand that. This is so much more complex. Fostering is a calling, first of all. Not to mention, there are legal steps and requirements—and there should be. And most of us probably don’t have the calling or resources to do so.
However, what I walked away considering was: what would it look like if every single Christian church in America—just think about this—every single Christian church in America said, “Hey, when somebody here fosters a little one, we’re all fostering that baby”? You know the old cliché, “It takes a village”? It’s saying, we are all going to rally around this one family with babysitting, with food, with groceries, with relationships, with check-ins, with whatever they need. And again, I know it’s so much more complicated. I acknowledge that. But I just couldn’t get away from those numbers.
Or here’s another math equation for you—the last one—that I’ll oversimplify. There are 779 people in Des Moines who are recorded as experiencing homelessness right now. There are—I’m not making this up—798 Christian churches and religious organizations in Des Moines. And again, I worked at a shelter for a long time. I recognize that it is so much more complicated than a simple math equation. I get that. But I just found these numbers interesting.
And so, as I think about what to do next, it’s so easy to get overwhelmed. It’s so easy to say, “Hundreds, thousands, hundreds of thousands—what could I possibly do?” And sometimes the answer is just the next thing. It’s just helping one person. Because the truth is, if every single Christian church in America did that, the world would look a lot different. And we see that with the early church here. So maybe that is the invitation for you to pray about. And again, I have no idea what that looks like, because I don’t see the giving. But obviously, we would be able to help a lot more people.
Last question—third question. This was a passage about money, but more so, it was a teaching about the heart, and I hope that came through. And so the simple question is: what are you holding on to tightly that perhaps God is inviting you to let go of? Because the truth is, I could have preached pretty much this exact same sermon on talent—on how God has given so many of us these amazing gifts and talents. And sometimes it’s easy to hold on to those and say, “I’m not going to share these with others or with God unless I’m getting paid, or I’m allowed to do it my way,” or whatever. This could have been a sermon on talent. It could have been a sermon on time.
All of the stats from Barna and church metrics reveal that those who are the most generous are almost always generous with only one thing—time or money—but rarely both. Again, according to the data, the folks who give the most are usually the ones who are around the least to serve, to help somebody else. At times, they care the least about justice. This is according to the data. And—again, painting with broad strokes here—generally, the ones who show up the most and volunteer the most are sometimes the ones who give the least, if at all. And there are plenty of reasons. This is not a moral judgment. Sometimes it’s all they have to give. Sometimes they are giving somewhere else. Sometimes there’s so much more going on.
The only reason I mention this is that it would be easy to hear a message like this and say, “Well, actually, I’m pretty generous with my finances.” Or, “Honestly, money doesn’t mean that much to me. I love to bless my friends and people.” Or, “I’m broke, so obviously that sermon’s not for me.” It would be so easy to hear this and think, “Oh, I hope someone else heard that.” And I would lovingly say—again, I have no idea what your spending or giving is, and I never will—I would just lovingly say: even if you are generous in one area, that doesn’t mean there isn’t an invitation, that God might not be working on your heart somewhere else—an opportunity to trust him more. And so where are you holding on to something tightly and not giving it to God?
I shared this once a while ago, but I think it’s worth repeating. I just found it fascinating when I read it. The Knights Templar, if you know that story—they are recorded as being baptized when converting to Christianity, whatever that looked like. But as they were being lowered into the water, these Knights Templar would hold their swords out of the water. And so their entire bodies would go down under the water, and they would keep their swords out. And as I read the story, basically what it’s communicating is: “Jesus, you can have every part of me except this—except my revenge, or my violence,” or whatever it is, right?
And as I was reading this, I had to ask: what am I holding out of the water? What is it that I am gripping, saying, “Jesus, you can have all of me except this one thing”? Except my trust. Except my relationships. Except my job. Except my views on sex, sexuality. My politics. My time. My gifts. My ego. That’s mine. And yes, maybe my finances.
John Wesley once said that the last part of a believer to be converted is often the wallet. And regardless of whether it’s finances, gifts, time, relationships, or trust, I just imagine our loving Father saying, “I don’t need another 20 bucks. I don’t need another 20 minutes. I’m the Creator of the universe,” right? I just imagine God saying, “I have everything I need. But what you need is to trust me with what I’ve given you”—to invite him into that one area that you’re gripping tightly, and trust him with it, and release it. Whatever that looks like, that is between you and the Lord, and me and the Lord, right? Let’s pray together.
Lord, we know that you do not need our money—to state the obvious. Psalm 24 tells us that the earth is yours and everything in it. Acts 17 says you are not served by human hands, as if you needed anything. You don’t need anything from us, but we desperately need you. So, Lord, help us to see this not as a Christian fundraising conversation, but as an invitation for what’s actually happening here: an opportunity for spiritual formation.
Lord, I think of 2 Corinthians 8:9—that though Christ was rich, yet for our sake he became poor, so that we, through his poverty, might become rich. Help us to become rich, and to recognize that there is a big difference between being rich and being wealthy. Help us to see the richness you have lavished on us. And one of the best ways we experience that is by giving what you have given us, because of who you are. Because you are the one who gave it all. John 3:16, the most famous verse: that you so loved the world that you gave. And so the opportunity for us, because you gave to us, is to act with generosity—because you were first generous. We love because you first loved us. We give because you gave everything. And so help us to loosen our grip on whatever might be holding us back from freedom, whatever that looks like.
Lord, my prayer is that this wasn’t heard as a money talk, but seen as an opportunity—wherever we are on our faith journey—to be moved not only by you, but toward you, whatever that looks like, whatever it is we are holding on to. We pray this in Jesus’ name. Amen.