stewardship
I composed this article for our church newsletter in tandem with our upcoming Lenten stewardship drive, but I think the thoughts below are applicable to our broader lives as Christians, also. Here's hoping I don't get in trouble for anything included herein! I worked with our stewardship team, a dedicated, wonderful and wise couple, on developing ideas based upon their careful research into some of the latest Lutheran thought on stewardship. They liked it; I hope it can serve as a positive spur toward reflection, renewal and activism.
Those of you who are parents—in fact, anyone who has listened to stories told by their own parents—will be well familiar with those moments when we suddenly realize the creature we will be nurturing, whether biological or adopted, has a mind, body and spirit that are entirely his or her own.
My mother enjoys telling the story of the first time she set eyes upon newborn me… and my eyes locked onto hers with a sufficiently scary intensity to lead her to wonder what, exactly, she and my father had gotten themselves into. Twenty-seven years later I received numerous signs that Geoff and I had produced a being of similar intensity, perhaps best represented by her habit, at 4 and 5 months old, of standing, rigid, on my lap and focusing a laser-beamed stare upon Pastor so penetrating that he actually looked a bit unnerved on more than one occasion. (“She’s quite alert, isn’t she?” I recall hearing, with a slightly nervous chuckle. Well, yes, that’s one word for it…)
In short, while we speak of “gifts from God” and “our” children, our progeny have a tendency to demonstrate early on that we are merely caretakers of a body, mind and spirit that can never be owned. We are stewards of these creatures, holding them in trust for the day they are big and strong and educated enough to make their own way in the world.
As it goes with children, so—if we are truly following God’s word—it goes with the church. The world, the church, the blessings we enjoy—these are not gifts in the sense of something we can own. We are impermanent; God’s creation, in its largest and most expansive sense, is eternal. We are called to be caretakers; called to be stewards. We are called to parent the church, to cultivate it for the future.
We don’t own the things of this world. We cannot. Remember the parable of the man who stores up his treasure, only to realize that none of that can be taken with him when he dies? Withholding what God has entrusted to us is not bad for the church so much as it is bad for us. Indeed, the bulk of Jesus’ teaching about money focuses upon its impact upon individuals’ relationship with God, not the church’s need for cash.
If we hold the things of this world in trust, we are compelled to be stewards of the time, talent and treasure with which we have been entrusted just as we are called to be good stewards of our children. We are called not to give, but to utilize that which has been entrusted to us in a way that will further God’s kingdom on earth.
So… do we treat this congregation as we would a child? Do we lavish the care and attention we should? Do we respect and uphold it, give our last ounce of effort to further God’s work in our community?
We do many wonderful things. I would never wish to denigrate the efforts of so many good people in so many areas of service.
BUT.
If this is the best we can do, then we are greatly to be pitied.
We settle for “good enough,” leaving things undone or unfinished. We fail to provide support for those who step up and serve, leaving them susceptible to frustration, burnout and disillusionment. We assume the way we’ve always done it is the only way to do it—or, on the other end of the spectrum, sometimes we change simply because it’s the trendy thing to do, and not because God calls us to do so. We speak ill of others or fail to acknowledge disagreement in an atmosphere of love and of sincere effort to bridge gaps between neighbors. We hesitate to serve or to give because we’ve established such terrible precedents that we fear we will be committed to a given path long after our call to service has run its course.
Are we different from any other congregation?
Nope; not really.
Should that be a reason to settle?
NOT AT ALL.
How are you called to be a better steward this Lenten season? How am I? How are we, collectively, called to best utilize the time, talent and treasure we have been granted?
I pray for wisdom, for will, and for a welcoming spirit of self-aware reflection as we undertake this important journey. Praise God for the things God has entrusted to us—they are rich blessings.
Those of you who are parents—in fact, anyone who has listened to stories told by their own parents—will be well familiar with those moments when we suddenly realize the creature we will be nurturing, whether biological or adopted, has a mind, body and spirit that are entirely his or her own.
My mother enjoys telling the story of the first time she set eyes upon newborn me… and my eyes locked onto hers with a sufficiently scary intensity to lead her to wonder what, exactly, she and my father had gotten themselves into. Twenty-seven years later I received numerous signs that Geoff and I had produced a being of similar intensity, perhaps best represented by her habit, at 4 and 5 months old, of standing, rigid, on my lap and focusing a laser-beamed stare upon Pastor so penetrating that he actually looked a bit unnerved on more than one occasion. (“She’s quite alert, isn’t she?” I recall hearing, with a slightly nervous chuckle. Well, yes, that’s one word for it…)
In short, while we speak of “gifts from God” and “our” children, our progeny have a tendency to demonstrate early on that we are merely caretakers of a body, mind and spirit that can never be owned. We are stewards of these creatures, holding them in trust for the day they are big and strong and educated enough to make their own way in the world.
As it goes with children, so—if we are truly following God’s word—it goes with the church. The world, the church, the blessings we enjoy—these are not gifts in the sense of something we can own. We are impermanent; God’s creation, in its largest and most expansive sense, is eternal. We are called to be caretakers; called to be stewards. We are called to parent the church, to cultivate it for the future.
We don’t own the things of this world. We cannot. Remember the parable of the man who stores up his treasure, only to realize that none of that can be taken with him when he dies? Withholding what God has entrusted to us is not bad for the church so much as it is bad for us. Indeed, the bulk of Jesus’ teaching about money focuses upon its impact upon individuals’ relationship with God, not the church’s need for cash.
If we hold the things of this world in trust, we are compelled to be stewards of the time, talent and treasure with which we have been entrusted just as we are called to be good stewards of our children. We are called not to give, but to utilize that which has been entrusted to us in a way that will further God’s kingdom on earth.
So… do we treat this congregation as we would a child? Do we lavish the care and attention we should? Do we respect and uphold it, give our last ounce of effort to further God’s work in our community?
We do many wonderful things. I would never wish to denigrate the efforts of so many good people in so many areas of service.
BUT.
If this is the best we can do, then we are greatly to be pitied.
We settle for “good enough,” leaving things undone or unfinished. We fail to provide support for those who step up and serve, leaving them susceptible to frustration, burnout and disillusionment. We assume the way we’ve always done it is the only way to do it—or, on the other end of the spectrum, sometimes we change simply because it’s the trendy thing to do, and not because God calls us to do so. We speak ill of others or fail to acknowledge disagreement in an atmosphere of love and of sincere effort to bridge gaps between neighbors. We hesitate to serve or to give because we’ve established such terrible precedents that we fear we will be committed to a given path long after our call to service has run its course.
Are we different from any other congregation?
Nope; not really.
Should that be a reason to settle?
NOT AT ALL.
How are you called to be a better steward this Lenten season? How am I? How are we, collectively, called to best utilize the time, talent and treasure we have been granted?
I pray for wisdom, for will, and for a welcoming spirit of self-aware reflection as we undertake this important journey. Praise God for the things God has entrusted to us—they are rich blessings.
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