Today I want to consider the call to generosity.

I’m not talking about tithing. That’s a separate conversation.

I’m not even talking about giving at church, per se. That is a multilayered discussion, and a great one to have.

My question is this: what do we do when God tells us to help?

In 2 Corinthians 8-9 The Apostle Paul holds up, as an example, the Macedonian Churches, who despite physical and economic hardship were practicing a generosity driven by the joy in their heart.

This was one thing, early in my faith journey, that impressed me about Christian communities I experienced. I saw people who were generous, despite having what I would have considered to be not enough.

I saw people, with only a little, choose to give to people who didn’t have anything.

And they did it, not because of how much they wanted to impress an audience, or obligate the recipient, but because they loved God.

This is what it means to freely give.

In 2 Corinthians 9, Paul talks about planning to give. In the same way that knowing you will have company, you make enough food for everybody, Paul urged the Corinthians to plan to give, to intentionally set aside resources that would allow them to arrive with something to offer, instead of suddenly feeling burdened by an unwelcome request. Just like you could save up for something you want, they were instead budgeting to be a blessing.

I’m not sure how often I meet this standard. I know I wrestle, at times with the unwelcome request, with the appeal for something I do have that I wanted to spend on something else.

But Paul says we shouldn’t wrestle. In 2 Corinthians 9:7, he writes. “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.”

And it would be easy to take this and say, see! I don’t want to do it. That proves I’m not supposed to. Because if I gave to you, I’d be mad. Let’s move on.

But I’m not sure it’s so simple.

Paul’s instruction troubles my faith in several ways. First, it reminds me that part of faith is helping other people in crisis times. Second, it reminds me that no-one should have to ask me to do it, to say nothing of pleading, cajoling, or begging. Third, it encourages generosity. The preceding verse reminds us “Remember, whoever sows sparingly will reap sparingly.”

And it appears to me as a triple whammy of the life of the believer. Give to meet the need. Give freely. Give generously. God is looking for me to be his hands and feet in ministering to the hurts of the world. He’s looking for me to have his heart so that no-one has to twist my arm. He’s looking for me to give as an act of trust, knowing that He has the power to enlarge my territory in a million different material and spiritual ways.

But out of the hardness of my heart, I may settle for being His mouthpiece, and keeping my hands in my pockets. I may see the need up ahead and use my feet to cross to the other side of the street.

My wife will often look to me to do something she hasn’t mentioned. This can frustrate me, as I am not a mind reader. But the point here is that she wants me to want to do them. She would like me to think of her and think how I might be a blessing. She would like my heart to be inclined, in this way toward hers.

Can I, in that moment, be tuned in enough to her needs, and large enough in my heart, that I look to bless her, without worrying about whatever else I think I need to do with my time and money?

Can I put her first? I pray that I can.

And I pray that we, likewise, can have this same posture towards the needs of the kingdom and world: a desire to help, that trusts God to take care of us.

In the age of the billionaire, it’s easy to create lists of the people we think should be generous, instead of us.

In a time in which the rich and famous flaunt their lavish lifestyles on social media, and our aspirational peers do their best to simulate the same, I can easily look at my own piggybank and conclude that I’m not the one God is looking for.

And yet, he is.

In Luke 21:1-4, Jesus drew his listeners attention to a widow giving an offering of two mites, which was 1/64^th of a denarius, a daily wage for a day laborer. It is the modern equivalent of maybe two dollars.

This offering was greater than the significant gifts of all the wealthy people around her. Because she gave all she had. Hers was the greatest sacrifice.

Christian Blogger K.W. Leslie (whose fascinating blog you can find here) argues that we miss the significance of this moment in a modern society in with a controlled money supply. The value of two mites was dependent on the supply of metals. Inflation, in these times, could occur quite quickly and dramatically. When metals were plentiful, and prices were low, Leslie explains, the coin might buy a bagel. When prices soared high, it might buy a cow.[1] Coins, therefore, were less like currency than like stocks. This is not two coins. It’s Bitcoin. So they were not something the poor spent. They were something they held on to, with plans to cash in when they peaked. You weren’t saving for a rainy day. You were saving so God could pour out a blessing you had not room enough to receive. Leslie argues that the woman was giving up, not just her present resources, but her investment, her hope for a better future.[2]

How generous is it to cheerfully surrender something that may dramatically increase in value? How remarkable would it be to freely give something that may give the recipient far more value, or power, or joy than it gives you now?

This is a standard for giving. Not just sowing abundantly into someone’s present but sowing into their future. And trusting God to take care of mine.

Give it a thought.

And give God the glory.

[1] 1. K.W. Leslie, “The Widow’s Mite, and Ancient Money’s Value.,” TXAB: The Christ Almighty Blog, accessed August 8, 2024, https://www.christalmighty.net....

[2] Ibid.