If you’re like me, you probably have to work hard to prioritize and organize your days. I know that if I want to prepare adequately for Sunday’s sermon, I need to set aside a period of time each morning (when I’m fresh and lively) to read and study. I also know that if I have any hope of exercising on a particular day, I must do that before my workday begins, because I’ll be far too tired late in the day! In order to incorporate intentional prayer into my day, I must schedule specific times to do so, beyond the moments of spontaneous prayer; otherwise, the day will run away from me, and I’ll have prayed very little. Prioritizing is an art in which we can make the most of our time and set aside precious minutes and hours for those activities that are most important to us.
Our life together in community at Good Shepherd is a way of prioritizing our lives so that God is at the center. It’s one thing to say that we believe in God and want to make time for God, but it’s another to put God at the absolute center of our lives so that God can be the very Source and Ground of our being, animating and enlivening all that we are. To do so, we must undertake a radical reprioritization of our lives. Without knowing it, by simply existing in this rapid, technological age of ours, we’re often forced to push God to the side. Extracurricular commitments and jobs make it more and more difficult to preserve the Lord’s Day for worship. Increasing demands on our time present obstacles for volunteering in the church. The pervasive anxiety of our culture feeds us with 24/7 messages of scarcity and fear. It’s the fear that there is never enough—whether of time, love, compassion, or money. But when we put God at the center of our lives, we no longer need to be in competition with our other non-religious commitments (a point helpfully made by Rowan Williams in The Way of St. Benedict, London: Bloomsbury, 2020, p. 81). Putting God at the center ensures that there is a wholesome balance to all our commitments, whether in the Church or outside the Church. Ultimately, this prioritization of our lives moves us from fear to trust.
Perhaps the most visible expression of how fearful or unfearful we are is the way in which we steward our financial resources. While we’re often unnecessarily reluctant to talk about money in church (even though Jesus spoke quite openly about it), our own spiritual practice of giving—in particular, giving to God’s ministry in the Church—is one of the most significant spiritual disciplines we can undertake. The more we develop love for God and trust in God, the less anxious we’ll find ourselves with regard to money (and other things). But this requires work, which is why sacrificial giving is a spiritual practice. Sacrificial giving encourages us to give first to God and then work everything else out. This becomes a way of balancing our lives.
Our perpetually anxious culture, which watches the markets and gas prices with bated breath, will tell us that a sacrificial way of stewarding our finances is a profoundly foolish practice, nothing short of stupidity and naivete. But after all, we’re fools for Christ, and Christ flips all our perceived values on their heads. What’s really foolish, though, is to throw our money at things that promise us life but can’t really give us life. What is wise, life-giving, and faithful is to return to God what is already his. In doing so, our anxiety and fear begin to fade and a generous space is opened up in our hearts so that our perspective towards all of life changes.
My own personal perspective towards sacrificial giving has changed over time. I’ve not always prioritized God in my giving to the Church. At first, I would see what was hanging around after the bills were paid and after I spent money on desirable things, and then I would make my pledge to the church. But, oddly enough, I was frequently still anxious about money. While my anxiety about money is not completely gone now (will it ever be?), I feel that I’m less anxious much of the time since I’ve tried to put God at the center of my financial stewardship. I’ve learned that my life becomes simpler in some ways. I find I don’t need the extra subscription or book or meal out. I’m quite happy without them. I begin to see the marvelous ways in which what can seem impossible becomes possible precisely because putting God at the center has significantly reoriented my financial priorities.
I believe that two of the hardest things for us to let go of are resentments and money. Resentments are perversely satisfying to hold onto because holding onto them gives us a sense of control. When we’re insecure, we’re more likely to buttress our self-esteem with a litany of resentments against others. Holding onto our money is similar. It gives us the illusion of control. If I can save as much money as possible, my future will be secure. But all of this fails to recognize that all we have and are comes from God. And when we fail to remember this, we turn inwards on ourselves. The spiritual practice of giving reverses our innate solipsism by reminding us, rather painfully much of the time, that all we have (yes, even our money) belongs to God. Our returning of that gift from God back to God moves us from fear to gratitude.
The practice of selfless giving to God also has the effect of binding us to one another in community. Our life in community at Good Shepherd is one in which every person matters. Each of us has gifts that God desires for us to use for the sake of his kingdom. Our life together is rather like a Benedictine community of monks. Rowan Williams has noted that the Rule of St. Benedict, which governs monastic life in community, “presupposes that a viable working community does not permanently split into active and passive members” (The Way of St. Benedict, p. 78). It’s the same at Good Shepherd. All our gifts are needed for our corporate flourishing. And these gifts include the financial resources we contribute towards the advancing of God’s mission in this place. Our gifts of money are visible expressions of our investment in Good Shepherd and, most importantly, in the work of the Gospel.
This Sunday after Sung Mass, our Advancement Committee is hosting a lunch as we kick off the 2025 pledge campaign. If you aren’t sure what a pledge is, please come to the lunch! In short, we’re entering the season of the year when we renew our practice of spiritual giving and prayerfully consider a pledged commitment of money to support ministry at Good Shepherd. Giving and stewardship are lifelong practices; they should never stop. But at this time of year, as the vestry prepares to devise a budget for next calendar year, we’re asked to consider how our own spiritual practice of giving aligns with God’s mission on the ground in this parish.
In 1988, the Episcopal Church’s General Convention noted the tithe as the minimum standard of giving for its members. The tithe (which has a Biblical warrant) is 10% of one’s income. The point of a tithe is that it’s specific enough to require a radical reprioritizing of our financial stewardship. It’s hard to tithe without rearranging how one spends one’s money. It also levels the giving field to some extent, ensuring that every member of the community is contributing towards the good of the whole. Tithing encourages each of us to put God at the center of our lives, both in how we manage our finances and in how we see our own lives as gifts from God. As we begin this year’s 2025 pledge campaign, I’m inviting you to join me in tithing on your net income. If this is not yet possible for you, perhaps you can consider working towards a tithe over a period of time.
Be assured: the world in which we live is one of abundance, although, sadly, the resources are hardly distributed equitably and fairly for many people. It’s a broken, sinful world in which the clamoring voice of Sin has inserted a mantra of scarcity into our ears and hearts, and this is so often the root of the evil we see around abuse and misuse of money and resources. But in our own spiritual practice of giving, we have a beautiful opportunity to listen not to Sin’s voice but to God’s voice. And God’s voice tells us that we have no reason to fear because God can work miracles with very little. Five loaves of bread and two fish can feed a crowd of a thousand, and there are still crumbs left over to be gathered up. In God’s kingdom, there’s always enough, and nothing—nothing—is ever wasted. And because of this remarkable good news, there’s nothing to fear.
Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle