Transforming our Understanding of Stewardship
The First Congregational Church
United Church of Christ
Columbus, Ohio
November 16, 1997
Memory Verse: "Think of us in this way: as servants of Christ and stewards of God's mysteries." 1 Corinthians 4:1
Today's Texts: Genesis 41:33, 37-46, Psalm 105:1-10, and Matthew 25:14-30
Prayer: Holy God, you are the owner and we are the stewards of life. Give us the confidence to act accordingly. Break open your word that we might come to new understandings of your wisdom and grace. Amen.
On Tuesday I had the experience -- along with my traveling companions from First Church -- of waking up in Jamaica, traveling to the airport in 93-degree heat, and going to sleep in Columbus, where the thermometer had dipped to 39-degree cold. The temperature plunge notwithstanding, we were glad to be home following our week-long exposure to both the extreme poverty and affluence of a third-world country.
All three of us found the experience to be motivating. We came back with a desire to help our sisters and brothers in the southside neighborhood of downtown Kingston. We also came back with a growing number of ideas as to how that could be accomplished, ranging from the simple to the extravagant. We used our journals to write these ideas down, lest we forget them.
Midway through the week, I went on a walking tour of the neighborhood. I visited a dozen homes, which reminded me of the housing stock of Appalachia -- small poorly-built shacks of one to four rooms with entire families crowded into them. It was not uncommon for everyone to share one or two beds. Most of the homes had neither indoor plumbing nor cooking facilities. Water was available from a common spigot, outside, where there may also have been a common toilet. Cooking was done on charcoal grills.
At one home, the mother wanted to introduce me to her children but she could not locate one daughter. We eventually found her daughter hiding in the outhouse, apparently shy about meeting me. As the mother opened the door of the outhouse, the girl ran out, exposing a porcelain flush toilet with no toilet seat. It was instinctive and automatic to ask the mother if she would like a toilet seat. The answer was yes, producing my easiest commitment of the trip: to send a toilet seat back with Heather when she goes down in January.
Other ideas will be harder to accomplish, ranging from the shipment of bicycles to the provision of academic scholarships to the construction of new, expanded facilities. All this and more will be talked about with our Mission Commission in the weeks and months ahead.
At the same time as we were visiting an impoverished inner-city neighborhood of Kingston, you were getting started on this year's annual stewardship campaign, Share the Mission. The bags went out two weeks ago and should be making their way back to worship by next Sunday. Each member is being asked to estimate his or her giving for next year in order to make our giving more disciplined and our budget more accurate. The higher we estimate our giving the easier it will be to expand our ministry and program.
I'm not sure that all of our members, particularly some of our newer members, understand the importance of this process. Why isn't it enough to just give money on a regular basis? Why do we have to estimate our giving, in advance? I know some people who refuse to make estimates, not as a political statement, but just because they don't see the need for such an exercise.
I've already hinted at two important considerations. Both have to do with the notion of Christian stewardship, first of our individual lives and second of our life together as a church. When we estimate our giving, in advance, as a percent of our income, we make giving a priority in our lives. It's not that impulse giving, such as my offer of a toilet seat, is to be discouraged or discounted. But disciplined giving is the source and substance of Christian stewardship. It causes us to become invested in our giving in an entirely different sense. It raises critical questions about our lifestyle, our values, and our faith. It moves us closer to the kind of person God wants us to be.
These estimates of giving have the same effect on our life together as a church. We all have hopes and dreams for what this church can become. Last week, our Moderator articulated some of his own from this very pulpit. When we bring our estimates of giving together, pooling our strength, we can lay a course for realizing these hopes and dreams. We can reward the good work of the past year and chart out new directions for the year ahead. There are other ways to make a budget, such as designated giving or operating on faith, but we have chosen a budget process which relies upon these estimates of giving as the key indicator of what the congregation is, or is not, willing to do in the year ahead.
When the little blue card comes your way, I hope you will complete the card with a generous and realistic estimate of your giving for 1998. And I hope you will do so not because you have to, but because you want to. Guilt is a terrible motivation for giving. When it works at all, it usually produces a less-than satisfying and less-than generous response. Principle is a better motivation for giving, as we seek to express our identity as Christian stewards. But the best motivation for giving weaves together need and relationship in order to produce enthusiasm for giving more than we ever gave before.
We saw this happen in the capital campaign, as the needs of our facility and the strength of our leadership generated three times as much money as we had once thought possible. I saw this happen again during our trip to Kingston. On the one hand, there was tremendous need that could not be ignored. We had positioned ourselves to see this need without qualification. But need alone did not produce the motivation to give. There was also the relationship to community leaders, parents, and students.
It was in the crucible of these relationships that we began to dream dreams and to see visions for how we might respond as Christian stewards. Without these relationships the needs were overwhelming. With these relationships the needs were broken down and solutions were explored. Suddenly it didn't seem so overwhelming. Suddenly we saw connections and possibilities. Suddenly we saw ourselves giving of our time, talents, and treasure.
This is my hope for the annual stewardship campaign currently underway. We could not have found a better theme than Share the Mission. It connects us with the needs and visions of who want to be as a church. We don't want people to give out of guilt or obligation. We want people to give out of seeing the need as well as the possibility for working together to meet that need. If we approach stewardship in this way, we will distinguish ourselves as a generous community in faithful ministry to all the world.
This is stewardship at its best. Too often we use the word as a synonym for fund raising. Our annual stewardship campaign is talked about as though the estimate of our financial giving was the definition of stewardship itself. But such talk does the word a great injustice. Stewardship, understood properly, is larger than money and more frequent than an annual campaign. It goes to the heart of who we are as Christian people. Are we givers or takers?
North American culture clearly elevates takers to an honored position. We are, after all, a consumer society. Take as much as we can for as long as we can. In the next six weeks before Christmas we will be tempted and scolded into excessive consumption. A big Christmas season is crticial to the North American economy. Television turns luxuries into necessities. People feel entitled to the good life, regardless of what it does to the rest of the world.
The notion of stewardship confronts these assumptions with a very different view of how life should be lived. Instead of taking all that we can, stewardship encourages us to give all that we can. It puts service above self and sacrifice above success. It is a fundamentally biblical idea, which traces its way from the beginning of the Old Testament to the end of the New.
Stewardship implies responsibility without ownership. The steward is a chief servant who's been asked to conduct the business of another. In scripture, the "other" is usually a king or ruler. The classic tale is that of Joseph, who was sold into Egyptian slavery by his jealous older brothers. Once in Egypt, he gained a reputation as someone who could interpret dreams and foretell the future. This reputation eventually came to the attention of Pharaoh, the king of Egypt, who learned through Joseph of an impending seven-year drought.
"What should I do?" the Pharaoh inquires of Joseph. "Select a person who is discerning and wise," Joseph tells him, "and set him over the land of Egypt. Have him organize a food storage program that will carry people through the famine." Pharaoh could think of no one more discerning and wise than Joseph himself. He put a ring on his finger and a gold chain around his neck. He let him ride in a chariot and wear royal clothes. He gave him a new name and an attractive wife. Joseph was made the steward of Egypt and charged with a critical public works project.
This pattern for stewardship is repeated in scripture over and over again. On the one hand, the steward has tremendous responsibility -- but he is never ultimately authoritative or irreplaceable. There is always someone over the steward, who actually owns the operation, and to whom the steward is accountable. As a result, the steward is expected to operate with humility and a sense of solidarity. He may be a chief servant, but he is a servant nonetheless. Elevated in the ranks, but always subject to the will of the ruling authority.
Which brings us to the New Testament illustration of this principle in Matthew 25. It is a difficult parable to say the least. Jesus compares the reign of God to a king who goes on a journey and leaves his property in the hands of his servants. To one he gives five talents, to another two, and to another one. Then he goes away. That's all we're told. He doesn't say, "Now I want you to make money with these talents." He just goes away. In the gospel of Luke, the king says, "Now I want you to do business with these talents until I return."
In the end, he rewards the servants who have increased their holdings and he punishes the servant who has fearfully kept his talent under lock and key. "I was afraid of losing your money," the servant explained to the master, "so I buried it in the ground until you returned." This infuriated the master, causing him to take away the servant's money and to cast him into outer darkness.
So that's what the reign of God is like. It's easy to get this parable all wrong. On the surface it looks as though God is a punitive master who punishes those servants who fail to produce a healthy return. But careful examination reveals that the return is the issue. The effort is what concerns the master. Remember, the master never tells his servants to make money. In Matthew he entrusts his property to them and goes away. In Luke he tells them to do business.
I think the master was prepared to lose this money right from the get go. I think Pharaoh was prepared to sink or swim with Joseph at the helm. The concern of the master or the king was stewardship, not success. Did the servants take the risk of operating with his money? Did Joseph take the risk of implementing his plan? This was what they wanted to see, more than the results themselves. The fearful servant brought judgment upon his own head by failing to do business, to act as a steward, at all.
Sometimes we too become immobilized either by the extent of the problem or by the limitations of our resources. It becomes easier to not do anything at all than to exercise responsible stewardship. But this is not how God wants life to be. God wants life to be lived to the fullest. God has given us gifts and talents to be shared with others, not because our efforts will always be successful, but because we've already been forgiven if our efforts prove to be unsuccessful.
Stewardship is a responsibility based upon the freedom of our new life in Christ. That may be a totally different understanding of stewardship than some of us are used to seeing. But it comes straight from the pages of scripture itself. It's not about bringing in a certain return. It's not about making a certain estimate of giving. Stewardship is about striking out in faith in generous response to the needs and relationships of our lives.
God is indeed the owner of life and we are indeed its stewards, but the treasure we've been given is grace and God's judgment comes only to those who think and act otherwise. We have been set free to try and try again; whether we succeed or fail is unimportant. Whether we try at all is the heart of the matter. God calls us to be generous givers but has given generously to us. This parable of judgment has an underlying current of grace that sets us free to love as the stewards God wants us to be. Amen.
Transforming our Understanding of Ourselves
The First Congregational Church
United Church of Christ
Columbus, Ohio
November 23, 1997
Memory Verse: "Think of us in this way: as servants of Christ and stewards of God's mysteries." (1 Corinthians 4:1)
Today's Texts: Genesis 45:1-11, Psalm 40:1-10, Matthew 25:31-46
Prayer: Holy God, whose word is sharper than a two-edged sword, speak to us now in ways that cut to the quick. Expose our excuses and strengthen our faith. Open our hearts to you. Amen.
Last week I began a short, two-part sermon series on Christian stewardship. It is an unabashed attempt, as we complete and consecrate our estimates of giving for 1998, to move beyond the necessity of raising our budget into the luxury of living as Christian stewards. This was, in fact, the paradigm shift I was advocating in last week's sermon. We give neither to escape punishment nor to receive blessings, but rather to express the freedom that comes from living in the care and custody of our Creator.
This was, I suggested, the only positive way to understand the parable of the talents in Matthew 25. When Jesus says that those who have will be given more, and those who have not will be stripped of even what little they have (Matthew 25:29), he was certainly not speaking about material possessions. Our economic system may enable the rich to get richer and the poor to get poorer, but this is not what Jesus had in mind when he came proclaiming the reign of God.
His words, as an exhortation to Christian stewardship, are better understood in this way: those who live out of Christian freedom will be given even more freedom -- freedom to serve the overlooked and the ignored -- freedom to operate as agents of God's new world order -- freedom to love with reckless abandon even the last, the lost, the least, and the lonely. Those who fail to live out of Christian freedom, who cower in fear or make up excuses, will loose what little freedom they may have. Their spirit will wither and die through lack of use.
A comparison can be made to muscles, which quickly atrophy from excessive inactivity and bed rest. Following an operation it is always amazing to me how rapidly hospitals get people up and around, even when the operation is very serious. People confide in me the fear of putting weight on a new joint or opening up an incision; left to themselves they would probably lie around for quite some time. But this is the opposite of what people need to promote healing and wholeness.
So the physical therapists arrive, often within 24 hours of surgery, to help people get up and going. Their reassurance and direction enables people to face their fears and overcome their excuses. Like birds being pushed from the nest, people are given the freedom and the encouragement to try out their wings. Most of the time, it works out just fine. The more freedom they exercise, the more they receive. Those who refuse to cooperate retard their healing and can end up permanently disabled.
So too with Christian stewardship. When we fail to exercise the freedom to love, whether out of fear or any other reason, we become bound up and eventually destroyed. When we fail to give of ourselves, in relationship to the needs of others, we betray the basic instinct of our faith.
Frederick Buechner in his book Now & Then writes about the similarities and differences between Buddhism and Christianity. It is an affectionate and respectful treatment of the two religions. After studying Buddhism for a considerable amount of time, Buechner came to the conclusion that he would have been a Buddhist himself if it hadn't been for Christianity. It's not that he sees the two religions as one and the same, but rather that they are both shadows of the deep holiness and truth that cannot ultimately be spoken.
Buechner compares the Buddhist concept of upekkha, "the detached, dispassionate love which no longer makes or even recognizes distinctions of any kind but loves all people impartially whether they are torturers of children or great humanitarians," with the Christian concept of agape, which suggests a much more passionate involvement of God in the miseries of life -- who "took the form of a servant and became obedient unto death, even death on a cross." (Philippians 2:7f).
"Lest students of comparative religion be tempted to believe that to compare them is to discover that at their hearts all religions are finally one and that it thus makes little difference which one you choose," Buechner contends that "you have only to place side by side Buddha and Christ themselves."
"Buddha sits enthroned beneath the Bo-tree in the lotus position. His lips are faintly parted in the smile of one who has passed beyond every power in earth or heaven to touch him. 'He who loves fifty has fifty woes, he who loves ten has ten woes, he who loves none has no woes,' he has said. His eyes are closed."
Christ, on the other hand, stands in the garden of Gethsemane, angular, beleaguered. His face is lost in shadows so that you can't even see his lips, and before all the powers in earth or heaven he is powerless.'This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you,' he has said. His eyes are also closed."
"The difference seems to me this. The suffering that Buddha's eyes close out is the suffering of the world that Christ's eyes close in and hallow. It is an extraordinary difference, and even in a bare (prep school) classroom in Exeter, New Hampshire, I think it was apparent to everyone as it was to me that before you're done, you have to make a crucial and extraordinary choice." (Harper & Row, Pubs. • San Francisco, 1983).
This, one might say, is the choice of Christian stewardship: to relate to the suffering of the world as generous and humble servants. Not because we have a blueprint for eliminating poverty in this generation. But just because we have a love for people. Better to have loved, and be filled with woe, than to have never loved at all. Better to have done business with the time, talent, and treasure God has given us, even if we come up empty handed, than to have never done business at all. Better to have given of ourselves to whatever is true, honorable, just, pure, pleasing, and commendable, than to have never given of ourselves at all. Christian stewardship is a matter of attachment to, rather than detachment from, the pains and problems of life.
This perspective is represented over and over again in the pages of scripture. The story of Joseph culminates in his emotional reunion with the brothers who had sold him into slavery as a young boy. It was his attachment to the family of Israel which resulted in forgiveness and generosity.
Can you imagine the scene? There had been a drought for two years. The famine was getting hard. Real hard. So Jacob, the patriarch of Israel, sent his sons to Egypt, looking for food. When they arrived they did not know that their youngest brother had been elevated out of slavery to Pharaoh's chief steward. They could hardly have been expected to recognize him in such a position. The discontinuity caused them to overlook any physical similarities there might have been to someone they had not seen in almost twenty years.
But Joseph knew who they were, the very brothers who had orchestrated his apparent death in order to get him out of their way. These brothers deserved whatever punishment and vengeance Joseph had sought to mete out, and for a while he played that game. Getting them in trouble. Causing them to worry. Setting them up in a jam from which there was no escape. It was as though the tables were turned. Now they were the ones on the verge of Egyptian slavery, for no better reason than Joseph had suffered himself so long ago.
Then Joseph broke down. He could not keep up the façade. Ordering everyone out of the room, he broke down and cried -- a big time, boo-hoo sobbing that could be heard through the door and all the way down the hall to Pharaoh's chambers. Joseph revealed to them his secret: he was their long-lost brother. This terrorized them even further, knowing what they had done to him. Would he retaliate in like fashion? They could not know that Joseph's stewardship was based upon discernment and wisdom. They could not know that Joseph was filled with compassion, even as Jesus would later demonstrate and extol.
"What you meant for evil," Joseph told his brothers, "God meant for good." "God sent me before you to preserve life, not to take life." "I will provide for you here, so that you and your household will not come to poverty."
It could have been otherwise. He had every right and every reason to retaliate. But retaliation is not the way of God. And self-centeredness is not the way of Christian stewardship. We are called to care, even when people hurt and abuse us. We are called to give, even when people have the most basic of human needs. We are called to work for peace, justice, and the integrity of creation, even when people persecute and ridicule us.
How else can we interpret the story of the final judgment, in which people are separated into two groups: the sheep who receive eternal life and the goats who receive eternal punishment? Remember that this story follows immediately upon the parable of the talents. Jesus had just explained how the reign of God rewards those who embrace the freedom to love and punishes those who make excuses and shutter in fear. Then, as if to make the parable clear, Jesus tells the story of the final judgment.
There are two groups of people. One groups relieves the suffering of the world, while the other disregards it. The hungry are either fed or dismissed. The thirsty are either refreshed or refused. The lonely are either welcomed or isolated. The sick are either cared for or rejected. The imprisoned are either visited or ignored. And so the judgment comes. Not so much as a reward or punishment for right or wrong behavior, but more as a reflection of our orientation to life. Those who give love, receive love. Those who refuse love find it to be as elusive in heaven as on earth.
This, then, is how we must approach life in general and this church in particular. When people present us with the opportunity to give, how do we respond? Do we hold on to our own, with tight little fists, or do we share what we have, opening our hearts and hands? The little blue card on which we write our estimate of giving for 1998 is more than just information for the Budget & Finance Committee. It is information for us on who we are and who we hope to become.
The last two days of our trip to Jamaica were spent on the northern coast of the island, with a day at the beach on Discovery Bay (where Christopher Columbus landed in 1494). After snorkeling in the bay and getting situated on the beach, with Dorothy under a large shade tree, and Amy getting a few braids in her hair, I decided to go for a walk.
When I came to end of the beach, I was approached by a young woman who asked if I wanted her to come out with me into the sea. "Are you all alone?" she said. "Are you with your wife?" "No," I replied, "I'm with my church group." "Oh," she said with obvious disappointment, "you're a Christian."
It's nice to know that, at least in some people's minds, it means something to be a Christian. But I would hope it means something more than just avoiding illicit sexual encounters. I would hope it means that we have distinguished ourselves as people who care about the needs of the world. I would hope it means that we share in the compassion of Christ even for those who have nailed him to the cross. I would hope it means that we give and give again, to the point where our charitable expenditures make an impact on our lifestyle.
C. S. Lewis has pointed out that if our lifestyle reflects no different comforts, luxuries and amusements as everyone else with the same income as our own, then we are probably giving away too little. There ought to be things we should like to do for ourselves but cannot do because of our Christian stewardship. Unbridled consumption is neither healthy nor right, even if it is the American way. Unrestrained giving, in obedience to the gospel of Jesus Christ, is redemptive even when it requires sacrifice and correction.
Frederick Buechner is right when he says that we have to make "a crucial and extraordinary choice." Who are we going to follow? Who are we going to be? On stewardship Sunday we have the opportunity to take our stand with the One who gave all that he had, and then some. On stewardship Sunday we have the opportunity to pledge ourselves anew to the church of Jesus Christ. On stewardship Sunday we have the opportunity to transform ourselves into the very image and likeness of God and to grow up into the full stature of Christ who is the head of the church and the Lord of life. Amen.