Giving as If God Trusted us

God’s Trustees: A generosity in worship
Deuteronomy 26:1-15

In the last couple days, no doubt, all of us
have been asked questions about our Thanksgiving celebration.
99.9% of the questions were something like,
“Did you have a happy Thanksgiving?”
That’s a good question—and safe question—to ask even of a stranger.

But maybe one or two of you—
if you had a spiritually deep conversation about Thanksgiving
with someone you knew very well and felt safe with,
might have been asked a question along the lines of,
“Did your Thanksgiving celebration this year
draw you closer to God? or to your family?
Did it reflect your values?”

But I’ll bet nobody here was asked—or ever has been asked—
the one question I think might be the most important one
to ponder after celebrating Thanksgiving.
“Was your celebration trustworthy?”
In fact, we hardly ever associate the word “trust” or “trustworthiness”
with Thanksgiving.
We think of things like bounty, harvest, abundance,
friendship, gratitude, celebration, generosity.
But we don’t think about trust.

We ought to.
In fact, I’ll go so far as to say,
if we don’t think about the role that “trust” plays
when we are being thankful for the gifts of God,
then we haven’t begun to understand what Thanksgiving is about.

This morning is the third and last in this short worship series
focusing on aspects of stewardship.
And so far we haven’t talked much about the title
we gave the series: “God’s Trustees.”
Let’s think about that now.

What do I mean when I say that we are God’s Trustees?
In the church, when we say “trustees,”
we often think of a few mature men,
handy with a hammer and paintbrush,
changing filters and light bulbs, doing minor maintenance.
They are entrusted with the responsibility
of looking after the building and grounds.
We call them trustees.

A few years back, I served for two terms on the EMU Board of Trustees.
That group was entrusted with some major responsibilities:
to carry out the mission and priorities of that huge institution,
and to be responsible for its financial well-being.
I was only an Associate Trustee,
which meant I wasn’t trusted with quite as much responsibility,
which worked out quite well for me, actually.
I didn’t have to give as much time.
I could get by with a little less effort, and still do my job.

A trustee is someone who is given trust.
The one giving the trust is the owner.
So a trustee receives the trust from the owner.
And it’s up to the trustee to be trustworthy.
In the case of the church building and grounds,
the owner is the whole body of Park View members.
In the case of EMU, the owner is Mennonite Church USA.
In both cases, the trustees carry out the wishes of the owners,
they serve the mission of the owners,
they take care of what the owners have entrusted to them.
Trustees don’t make up their own mission.
They don’t set the ultimate vision and direction.
A good trustee strives to be faithful
to the mission and vision of the owner.

That is the definition of Christian stewardship.
We are God’s Trustees.
God is the owner of all things.
But God has trusted us to take care of them. To steward them.
To manage them according to God’s own wishes.
Not to take charge in any ultimate way,
not to determine for ourselves how we want to manage them,
but to manage them in a way that’s faithful to God’s mission.
I think that’s remarkable,
that God would trust us in that way.

Typically, when we talk about stewardship in the church,
it can sound almost burdensome.
We talk about what we ought to give,
or ought to do, or ought to sacrifice, for the sake of the church.
And there is that aspect to it, of course.
Stewardship—being God’s trustee—requires a lot of us.
God doesn’t let us off the hook very easily.
God doesn’t appoint any Associate Trustees, sorry to say.
It is a demanding call indeed.
We are called to sacrifice all for the sake of the Kingdom of God.
We don’t just give up our agenda, we lay down our lives.

But this identity we have—as God’s Trustees—
is not just about how much work we have to do.
It’s not primarily about the burden of responsibility we have to bear.
It’s about the gift.
The gift is so great, so astoundingly generous,
that it should amaze us all,
and make us bow in joy and gratitude.
God trusts us.
God has given us the gift of trust.
God—who doesn’t only own the cattle on a thousand hills,
but owns the hills themselves,
and the trees above them, and the minerals below them,
the endless reaches of the universe,
and every living creature that inhabits it—
this God trusts us to take care of it all.

The first message of stewardship we need to grasp
is the joyful generosity of this gift of trust.

If the Christian message of stewardship has ever come across
as just a heavy burden to bear,
if announcing an upcoming Stewardship Sunday
has ever brought a groan out of the mouth of a Christian,
then we have misrepresented the message.
This is good news, sisters and brothers!
God trusted us with all things good.
God trusted us with the abundance of this fall harvest.
God trusted us with the ability to earn money and build capital.
God trusted us with houses and land and enterprises.
God trusted us with an amazing human capacity to achieve.
God trusted us with talent.
God trusted us with time.
God trusted us with our physical bodies,
these incredibly complex, beautiful, strong, and fragile bodies.
God trusted us with our relationships with others.
God trusted us with life itself.

It is hardly possible to grasp the enormity of this truth:
God trusted us, and continues to trust us.
That’s the kind of truth that should cause us all to bow in adoration,
in thanksgiving, in humble gratitude.
That’s the kind of truth that we would have been well
to reflect upon this past Thursday,
as we sat down to table, to celebrate this national U.S. holiday.

But we probably didn’t think to ask ourselves, or anyone else,
that question,
“Was our celebration of Thanksgiving trustworthy?”
It’s a question we should ask ourselves
not only on Thanksgiving, of course,
but every time we gather together to worship.
Every time we respond in some way,
to these various gifts God has given to us, in trust, we should say,
“God trusted us. Have we shown ourselves to be trustworthy?”
Is God pleased with how we are managing what God owns?
Is God gratified to see us using these gifts
to serve God’s mission, and God’s purposes?

The questions seem obvious enough,
but boy are they hard to ask, if we’re honest.
If we really believe this good news that God trusts us,
it will reorient our whole existence.
We cannot believe this, and take it lightly.
This is not a question about tithing, for pity’s sake.

You know, being diligent about giving ten percent of our income
to the work of God’s Kingdom,
is, in comparison, a piece of cake.
Limiting the topic of stewardship to tithing our income
is the easy way out.
Anyone can decide to give ten percent.
And of course, the wealthier we are,
the easier it is to tithe.
Tithing, unless we are truly poor, isn’t even much of a challenge.

But to grasp the reality that God owns it all,
and has trusted us to care for it,
and to use it all to serve God’s mission—
that is a challenge.
That is hard to do.
That takes a lifetime of diligence, of learning, of discipleship,
of being formed and reformed.

It seems to me, that this notion of being God’s trustees,
and responding to the gift of trust that God gave,
is at the core of this well-known scripture from Deuteronomy 26,
that we heard a few minutes ago.
I’ve preached on this text a number of times already at Park View,
and there’s always a lot in here to ponder.
But what I’ve been pondering this week,
is the relationship of trust between God and the people,
that’s reflected in this ritual.

Let’s review.
We have this order of worship set up for the Israelites,
which they were supposed to institute
after they arrived in the Promised Land.
Before they ever got there,
while they’re still in the wilderness,
God gives them this set of instructions, through Moses.
They are told how they’re supposed to worship God
once they settle down:
once they own property,
once they become tillers of the soil,
once they live in permanent houses instead of tents.
And it’s a whole lot different than the way they give thanks,
wandering in the wilderness.
See, in the wilderness they get reminded, every single day,
how completely dependent they are on God,
and how their very lives are a generous gift from God.
Every day they need God to make yet another
batch of manna and quail to fall from heaven.
Every day they are inspired to thank God for that.

But when they live in houses and till the soil for food,
they’ll soon start thinking life isn’t really a gift anymore,
that it’s something they make happen.
And they begin to be less grateful.
They begin to forget that God owns it all,
and they are simply God’s trustees.

So they are given this liturgy, this order of worship for harvest time.
They take the first portion of their harvest—the first—
and put it in a basket,
and bring it to the dwelling-place of God.
And they show it to the priest,
and make a personal declaration that reminds them who they are,
reminds them how dependent they are on God,
how all they have belongs to God,
and comes from God’s hands.
They basically retell their story, as children of Abraham,
the wandering Aramean, the nomad.
God doesn’t want them ever to forget their wandering days,
the days they depended completely on God.

So they set down the basket of produce,
and it is distributed to all the people of God,
who don’t have the privilege of owning property in this new land,
who cannot provide for themselves from the soil:
the Levites: who take care of God’s house,
the aliens, the orphans, the widows.
All people without property rights.
And they have a feast together with these Levites and aliens
and orphans and widows.

That basket of produce,
that gift of worship and thanksgiving,
that was a gift of a people who understood that God trusted them.
One would hope that it was also a spontaneous expression of thanks,
for all that God had done for them as a people.
But it did not depend on them being spontaneous.
This liturgy was taught.
It was an exercise. A discipline. A training.
It was an act of worship that formed them.
I don’t think it’s any different for us.

Left on our own, we will forget.
We will forget that it’s all God’s to begin with.
We will forget that we are only in the role of trustees.
And we will start acting like owners.
You don’t become a good trustee spontaneously.
You become a good trustee by being intentional and disciplined.
If we depended only on doing what comes spontaneously,
we would fall for that temptation that afflicts all of us
stained by the sins of greed and materialism—
to act like owners.
To make decisions about the use of our resources,
based on what pleases us,
what satisfies our desires and drives,
what brings us comfort and security.
We forget that the decisions we make about all that we have,
not just ten percent, but all of it,
are the decisions of trustees, not owners.
As good trustees, we decide how to use
our money, our houses and land,
our material possessions, our time and talents,
in a way that is true to the mission and vision of the owner.
It’s not our priorities and vision
that guide the use of what we have.
It’s the priorities and vision of God the owner.
God whose mission it is to reconcile the whole of creation.
To bring healing to the broken, release to the captives,
and freedom to the oppressed.
If we are using God’s stuff in any other way,
such as to feed our selfish desires,
such as to amass wealth, comfort, and security for ourselves,
such as to wield power over others unjustly,
then we will have to answer to the owner.

See what I mean about how much easier it would be, in comparison,
to just talk about tithing?
How easy it would be,
if we only had to relinquish ten percent to God,
and use the rest however we please.
But that’s not stewardship.
Stewardship is being God’s responsible and faithful trustee
for all of God’s stuff which God in his generosity
has trusted us with.

Then the giving we do in worship
will be giving as if God trusted us.
That’s the challenge that comes before all of us this time of year,
when we are asked to make a Faith Promise,
in regard to how we will worship this trusting God
with our gifts in the coming year.

My hope and prayer is that we never fall into
the lazy way of thinking about this.
Of doing some cold calculation of what percent to give,
and then assume we’ve done our stewardship for the year.
I hope this time of year has provided all of us
with an opportunity to reflect
in prayer, in deliberation, in a disciplined way.
And to ask what gifts will I bring this year that will be trustworthy?

Let me just say this as a word of challenge to us all.
If you came today ready to give your yellow Faith Promise card,
but you realize, upon further thought,
that you really have not given it the prayer and reflection
and disciplined intentionality,
that it deserves from a good trustee of God,
then hold onto it for now.
Keep it in your pocket or purse.
Next Sunday will be just as good.
Take some time this week to pray more, talk with others about it,
to seek guidance,
and to submit our wills to the will of the owner.
It would be better for you to give it when you’re ready,
than just give it by some artificial deadline.

־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־
But now, we are going to worship God with our gifts,
and we are going to give to the God who trusts us.
This offering will be brought forward to the baskets in the front,
and we will put all our offering in these baskets,
our regular weekly offering,
as well as—for those who believe they ready—
the Faith Promise cards
(whole, or in two parts, as indicated).
I like the symbolism of this more active way of giving.
It reminds me a little more of what Deuteronomy 26 is about.
It’s a time to come and set down the first-fruits of the harvest,
in God’s presence,
and to celebrate God’s generosity and faithfulness
and trust in us.

So the way we’re going to do it is this.
First of all, everyone gets in on the act. Every man, woman, and child.
I realize that not everyone came prepared with a gift in their hands,
and it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.
It’s the responsibility of those of you who do have gifts to bring,
to check with your neighbors sitting around you.
If their hands are empty,
share what you have; pass the loose bills and change around,
until everyone has something to bring.
It’s not the amount that’s important, it’s the participation.

Let us give with joy, with generosity,
and give as if God trusted us.
Because God does.

—Phil Kniss, November 26, 2006

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Too Much Bread in the Desert

God’s trustees: A theology of abundance
Mark 8:1-9a; Genesis 1:20-31

We call this a miracle—
feeding four thousand with seven loaves and a few fish,
and then gathering up seven baskets of leftovers.
Earlier in Mark there was a “greater” miracle—
five thousand fed with only five loaves and two fish,
and 12 baskets of leftovers.
Wow! Simply amazing! we say. Unheard of!
Oh, to have been there to witness that miracle first-hand.

I understand why we focus on the miracle in this story.
It is amazing.
But on the other hand,
it’s just another day of God doing what God does.
God takes a situation
where people are concerned about not having enough,
immobilized by their fear of scarcity.
And God turns it into a demonstration of radical abundance—
joyful, life-giving excess.
That’s not at all unheard of,
or even out of the ordinary.
If anything, this story should give us a sense of deja vu.

It’s what God routinely does.
God deals in abundance.
The human tendency is to deal in scarcity,
to be afraid of running out,
to be possessive, grasping, self-protective.

This story of feeding four thousand is found in Mark 8.
But in Mark 6 they faced almost the same dilemma.
A crowd followed them for days in the wilderness,
without food and far from home.
So...the second time this happens,
Jesus points out the obvious to his disciples, in v. 2.
The people need to be fed.
Didn’t say how.

You’d think the disciples would have had a rather vivid memory
of the miracle a few weeks earlier.
But no, they didn’t say, “Oh, yeah! Remember the five thousand.
Jesus can work with this.
Let’s go find a few loaves of bread.”
Instead, they resorted to their scarcity instinct.
There’s no way to feed all these people.
Verse 4: “How can we find enough bread here in the desert?”
So Jesus had to walk them through it again step by step.
“How many loaves do you have?”
“Uh, seven.”
“Okay, let’s have the crowd sit down for dinner.”
Then Jesus gave thanks for the bread,
broke the loaves,
handed the pieces to his disciples, and said, pass it out.
A few small fish were found, and he did the same.
The four thousand ate, and were filled,
and it turned out that once again
Jesus made too much bread in the desert.
There were seven baskets of leftovers,
gathered up in a barren wilderness,
a place of scarcity.

Now, as amazing as this miracle story is,
I don’t think the main point of it
is to put Jesus’ miraculous powers on display.
Yes, the demonstration of power is part of the story,
but I think the more important part is this stark contrast
between God’s narrative of abundance,
and the human narrative of scarcity.

Since this is Thanksgiving week,
when Americans gather around tables loaded with food,
and celebrate the abundance of the harvest,
I think it’s a good time to reflect on these competing narratives
of abundance and scarcity.
I think it’s also timely since at Park View we are all now discerning
what God is calling us to give financially in worship next year.
Will the narrative of abundance or the narrative of scarcity
inform us as we prepare our Faith Promises?

־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־־
The Bible is one long story of God’s abundance.
It starts in Genesis,
where God fills the universe with beauty and abundance:
fills the earth with plants of every kind,
swarms of living creatures of every kind,
and tells them, “Be fruitful, multiply, and fill the earth.”
And God pronounces all this abundance “good”...“very good.”
In Deuteronomy, God promises to make his people
“abundantly prosperous in all your undertakings,
in the fruit of your body,
in the fruit of your livestock,
and in the fruit of your soil.”
The psalms sing of God’s
abundant mercy
abundant righteousness
abundant steadfast love
abundant goodness...
30 references to God’s abundance in the Psalms,
including the refrain,
“we feast on the abundance of your house.”
In the Gospels, Jesus says he came that we might have life,
and have it abundantly.
Paul is profuse in his praise of the abundance of God’s grace.
And he proclaims Christ as the
“fullness of him who fills all in all.”
And it ends in Revelation,
with a picture of the glorious glittering city of God,
where there is no shortage of anything
good and right and beautiful.
We simply cannot do a full reading of our scriptures
and conclude anything but
that God is a God of abundance
and generosity beyond measure.

So why do we, God’s people, so often become immobilized with fear
that there isn’t enough to go around?
that the universe is actually ruled by a principle of scarcity?
And why do many of God’s people suffer, in fact,
because of extreme scarcity of what they need for life?

Walter Bruggemann has some thought-provoking things
to say about this.
He says that as Christians, our lives are torn apart by the conflict
between our attraction to the good news of God’s abundance
and the power of our belief in scarcity—
a belief that makes us greedy, mean and unneighborly.
He says “the fundamental human condition [is] anxiety,
fueled by [an] ideology that keeps pounding on us to take more,
to not think about our neighbor,
to be fearful, shortsighted, grudging.
Over and over, we’re told to [guard our scarce] resources
[so we can] keep up our affluent lifestyles,
especially with the approach of our “golden years.”
When it comes to work, we’re encouraged to have a 24/7 mind set.
Our appointment books bulge. To-do lists get longer.
In hopes that we don’t lose our competitive edge,
that we don’t miss any opportunities.
There is never enough time.
Even young children are put under pressure.
A carefree childhood is exchanged for
a tight schedule of structured activities,
that will give them an edge over their competitors.
All of this is driven by a powerful unquestioned belief in scarcity.

The Bible offers an antidote to all this anxiety-driven activity.
Sabbath.
Sabbath is based on trust in God’s abundance.
After six days of creating all this abundant beauty,
God took a rest simply to revel in it, to enjoy it.
The way we do Sabbath is based on a belief in scarcity.
We spend our Sabbath catching up on chores
we were too busy to do during the week,
or rushing to the mall because “the sale ends Sunday,”
or being glued to TV sports—which is one constant commercial.
It’s not about the commercial breaks anymore.
You can’t even watch a touchdown or a throw to home plate,
without seeing a prominent ad in the background.
The narrative of scarcity, that leads to greed,
is what fuels our urge to buy, to accumulate things.
The way we spend our Sabbaths is a denial of God’s abundance,
not a celebration of it.
Walter Bruggemann says that truly honoring the Sabbath
is a public witness against the narrative of scarcity.
It tells the world that “there is enough.”

We are stewards of a Gospel of abundance.
Let me just read a few sentences from an article by Bruggemann.
He says it so much better than I could:

“The gospel story of abundance asserts that we originated
in the magnificent, inexplicable love
of a God who loved the world into generous being...
And the story of abundance says that our lives will end in God,
and that this well-being cannot be taken from us.
In the words of St. Paul, neither life nor death
nor angels nor principalities nor things—
nothing can separate us from God.
What we know about our beginnings and our endings, then,
creates a different kind of present tense for us.
We can live according to an ethic whereby
we are not driven, controlled, anxious, frantic or greedy,
precisely because we are sufficiently at home and at peace
to care about others as we have been cared for.”

So the question we all face is this:
Will we choose to live our lives by God’s narrative of abundance,
or by the world’s narrative of scarcity?
Will we choose the Gospel way
of living in joyful abandon,
reveling in God’s abundant goodness,
living with openness and generosity and hospitality?
Or will we choose the way of frantic and fearful accumulation,
anxiously grasping for things,
finding security in wealth and possessions?

Now, I have to point out the irony here,
in case you haven’t already thought about it...
The “gospel of abundance”—as we’re talking about it—
is a completely different thing than
a “prosperity gospel” or a “health and wealth theology.”
There are some Christians who believe wholeheartedly
that God’s main desire is that his chosen people are prosperous.
That if we are being faithful to God we will be blessed
with plenty of wealth, property, and material possessions,
and will never be sick, hungry, or poor.
You might think, just hearing the phrase “gospel of abundance”
that it’s something invented by wealthy Christians
to justify a lifestyle of affluence and conspicuous consumption.
No, the idea that God is abundant and generous
is deeply rooted in scripture.
And frankly, the biblical kind of abundance
probably doesn’t sound like good news to some rich people.
I imagine some of the richest people in the world today
are the staunchest believers in the myth of scarcity.

No, whether you build your life around
the narrative of abundance, or of scarcity,
is not determined by whether you’re rich or poor.
And here I would differ slightly with Bruggemann on one of his points.
In the article he made the statement that
the rich rely on an ideology of scarcity,
and the poor rely on an ideology of abundance.
I do think it’s true that the more we have,
the more we are tempted to cling to what we have,
and try to get even more.
But I also think that all of us—rich, poor, and middle-class—
are hugely tempted to believe in the myth of scarcity,
which feeds our greed, and stifles our generosity.
We are all prone to living as if there’s not enough to go around.
We are all tempted to look out for number one,
to be selfish with what we have,
to build a hedge of material security around us.

Believing in the world’s narrative of scarcity produces
rich people who are anxious, fearful, and possessive, and
poor people who are discouraged, hopeless, and resentful.
On the other hand,
Believing in God’s good news of abundance produces
rich people who are joyful, radically generous,
and whose security is not tied to their possessions, and
poor people who are full of hope, and genuine gratitude,
and are willing to share what little they have.

So the difference between believers in the narrative of abundance
and the narrative of scarcity,
is not that one group is rich, and the other poor.
The difference is that some have discovered true joy and freedom,
and others are stuck in fear and anxiety.
Some have discovered the narrow road that leads to life,
and others are traveling the broad road that leads to death.

This is the Gospel of Jesus Christ, dear brothers and sisters:
Jesus came that we might have life,
and that we might have it abundantly.
It is indeed God’s desire for us to live abundantly.
But that is not the same thing as saying
God wants us all to be wealthy.

Some of us have a knee-jerk negative reaction
to the idea that God wants to bless us abundantly.
And that reaction is quite understandable.
Because many of us, I’m afraid, have a bad theology of blessing.
So let’s not throw it out, let’s fix the bad theology.
We have the distorted idea
that God’s blessing of us is an end, rather than a means.
We think that God’s primary mission is to bless his people.
No, I think scripture is quite clear about God’s mission in the world.
God’s mission is to establish his rule and reign,
to restore and reconcile all creation,
to heal what is broken and fractured by sin,
and to see all creation made whole,
and brought back to its original state of shalom.
That is God’s one Big Project.
Everything else God does points to that.
Which means, when God blesses us,
we are being blessed for something beyond ourselves.
God doesn’t bless us just because God wants us to be blessed.
God blesses us so that we might become God’s agents of blessing.
So that we might participate in the Big Project.
God’s blessing of us is a means to a greater end.

That’s where the “health and wealth” people missed the boat.
Prosperity theology says that God’s main agenda is our prosperity.
No, God’s agenda is establishing God’s reign on earth and heaven.
If we are blessed with material resources,
it is our God-given duty to utilize all of those resources—
not ten percent, mind you, but all of those resources—
toward advancing the reign of God in creation.
The biblical example of what God’s blessing really means,
is in the person of Abraham.
Remember what God said to him?
“I will bless you,
so that through you and your descendants,
all nations of the earth will be blessed.”
If we hoard God’s blessings for ourselves,
if they are not immediately shared and joyfully passed along
for the full life and blessing of others,
then we have squandered God’s blessing.
We have wasted it.

What I am inviting us to this morning
is to learn to fully embrace God’s narrative of abundance.
And by so doing,
we will find ourselves living our lives more freely,
more openly,
more generously,
more joyfully,
and with less anxiety, fear, and greed.
When we embrace God’s narrative of abundance,
we will discover that whether we are in the desert,
or in a place of plenty,
there will be enough of the bread we need for life.
There might even be too much to eat in one sitting.

As we sit around tables this Thursday with family and friends,
as we prayerfully complete our Faith Promises,
as we go about our daily work,
and as we worship,
let us give thanks to the God of abundance.

—Phil Kniss, November 19, 2006

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