“Generosity—Finding Joy, Finding Abundance”
September 24, 2017
I Kings 17:8-16
Philippians 4:4-9
I said last week that on these early fall Sundays I will be exploring generosity in my sermons.
When I first proposed this sermon series to the Stewardship Board, the response was skepticism and questions—and that’s the kind of response I expect from Board members here. We’re Congregationalists, after all, and want to think through things together rather than bow to authority.
It was pointed out that this congregation is already generous and actually seems to welcome it when we are challenged to increased generosity. We share a joyful spirit of giving— readily offering our time, eagerly sharing our abilities, and, yes, showing a joyful generosity in giving money. We give freely to support the work that happens in this place. We give freely to maintain this wonderful and temperamental old building. And we also give generously to support, among other things, theological education in southern Africa—as we did last week, disaster relief efforts—as we will next Sunday, and AIDS prevention work around the globe—as we will again later this fall.
Preaching about generosity to all of you is the proverbial “preaching to the choir.” Why waste my words and your time trying to convert the converted?
In a large part, I think, because it helps to occasionally look at why we do what we do so that we might gain new perspective and renewed commitment. And it helps to bring newer members of our congregation deeper into our common life and our tradition of generosity. I hope that as we explore generosity some new light might shine upon our lives and our thinking and our actions.
There are still skeptics—and that’s a good thing. Let me and the Stewardship Board know if this is all going in a good direction—or not.
I once heard a woman speaking about a program for poor children that she directed. And, of course, she was speaking because, in part, she was interested in “raising money” for this group. So she stunned me when she said: “The money helps. But it only goes so far. What’s really important are your prayers.”
Wow.
Money alone is not what changes the lives of youth—the love and patience and persistence of people does.
Money alone is not what builds decent housing in the developing world and in Iowa City—the sweat and effort of people working for Habitat for Humanity does.
Money alone does not give us hope in the face of illness or trouble—the prayers and companionship of members of this church have carried many of us through valleys of shadows.
Money alone does not even make this building what it is. The value of this church—the place where you were married, where your children were baptized and nurtured in faith, the place where you found new friends, where all people are welcomed, where you have laughed and cried and worshipped the living God—the value of this church for you and for the world cannot be stated in financial terms.
So when we think about generosity, when we seek to be generous people, we need to look beyond simply giving money. A liberal spirit will be generous with all things—with love and patience, with sweat and effort, with prayer and companionship.
Now, you probably know that generosity can be constricted by a sense of scarcity.
And generosity can expand as we discover abundance.
The Hebrew word for “salvation” comes from a root that connotes “space and freedom and security that are gained by the removal of constriction.” The good news of salvation is deliverance from what “constricts” us.
If I can speak personally, I am constricted by a sense that there is never enough time. And yet I have the same hours in a day that each of you have.
What constricts you?
How might we open our eyes and our hearts to the signs of God’s open hand? How might we yet be set free from the grip of the lies of scarcity in which so many of us live? That is, how might we yet find “salvation?”
Let me ask this:
Can you recall times when fear of not having enough of something, while understandable, proved unfounded? Times when, although you thought the roof would fall in, it never did? Or times when the roof did fall in, but this was not the end after all—times when serious trouble proved not to have the last word?
Reflecting on his finances, Jackie Mason once said: “I have enough money to last me the rest of my life—unless I buy something.”
How much is enough?
Gandhi told us that “Earth provides enough to satisfy every person’s need but not one person’s greed.”
And yet most of us from time to time worry about whether we have “enough.” There are probably times when you’ve worried about having enough patience, or enough support, enough understanding, or maybe even enough faith.
Paul urges the Philippians: “Do not worry about anything, but in everything, by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.” The amazing thing is that Paul wrote this to a congregation, many of whom were slaves and most of whom were poor. They would not know about security. And Paul himself was in prison facing a capital charge when he wrote to them. “Don’t worry. Let your requests be made known to God.”
Not that many of us take this advice. We worry excessively.
Prayer suffused with thanksgiving, however, recognizes God as the giver of all good things, understands that all of life is lived in the presence of this generous Giver. To pray like this is to recognize that there is a power in the universe that is immeasurably superior to oneself. It is to open ourselves to abundance.
And well-off, self-sufficient Americans sometimes have trouble with that.
So it’s especially helpful for us to remember those stories of scarcity in scripture.
The story of the prophet Elijah that we heard this morning is a tale of not having enough. Drought dominates the entire chapter. Water is scarce, for God had said, “There shall be neither dew nor rain these years, except by my word.”
Feel the heat. Look at the parched riverbeds. Search for food.
What’s your fear? Not enough money, not enough patience, not enough support, not enough understanding, not enough time? What do you worry about drying up?
The drought is so severe that it has brought death near even for a woman well-off enough to own a house with a second story. Using words that Elijah himself had used, the widow swears “As the Lord your God lives, I have nothing…”
I once had the experience of talking with a group of fairly wealthy people. They were doing very well indeed. What I discovered as they spoke was not only were they very rich, they were also some of the neediest people I’d ever met. Affluence begets its own fears. What anxiety lurks in the shadows around our own comfortable Iowa City way of life?
This well-off woman, God tells Elijah, will feed him.
When Elijah asks for food and water, the woman tells him that she is going to prepare a meager meal for herself and her son, so that they “may eat it, and die.”
Elijah’s response? “Do not be afraid.” Those words keep echoing through the stories of the Bible. They are the words of Joseph to his brothers that we heard a few weeks ago; they are the message at the empty tomb. They are the words spoken over and over to us at those times when the roof has fallen in, when we don’t have enough, when death seems to have had the final word. When scarcity lurks around the corner, we hear: “Do not be afraid.”
Notice how Elijah doesn’t try to dissuade the woman from her plan. “Go and do as you have said,” he tells her, adding only, “First make me a little cake and bring it to me and afterwards make something for yourself and your son.”
It’s like the sign on a pump out in the desert. Attached to the pump is a canteen filled with water. The sign advises that there is enough water in the canteen to prime the pump and then there will be all the water needed. And please, refill the canteen when you are finished.
Those words call for faith. And they come with the promise that there is enough—and more—if what is there is used properly and shared. Hoarding will not help even in the most desperate of circumstances.
The brief story of Elijah ends with good news: “She went and did as Elijah said, so that she as well as he and her household ate for many days. The jar of meal was not emptied, neither did the jug of oil fail.”
One Old Testament scholar tells us that the wonder of this story resides beyond its supernatural character. God is free to act beyond all boundaries of nationality, ethnicity, and even religious affiliation, providing not only for Elijah but also for a woman and her family who were not part of Elijah’s people.
I think it was Scott Peck who once pointed out that we are—all of us—survivors. As bad as things have gotten for us as individuals it hasn’t been our end.
Life—and not death—has the final word.
God has the final word and that word is “Yes.”
In part there is “enough” in this story and in our lives because there is human interaction and relationship. Elijah had only what he received from someone else. In sharing what she had, the woman found there was enough for her and her family.
Generosity is not learned in isolation. By opening our eyes and our hearts to the abundance of God we discover how much we have received and grow in our ability to share with others. And the strange thing is, when we share, when we give, the roof usually stays in the same place.
And we keep discovering that the God of surprising generosity puts a fresh heart within us.
So the poet Marge Piercy advises:
If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy,
don’t hesitate. Give in to it.
I suddenly and unexpectedly heard Garrison Keillor read this poem last week. Maybe you did too.
If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy,
don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty
of lives and whole towns destroyed or about
to be. We are not wise, and not very often
kind. And much can never be redeemed.
Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this
is its way of fighting back, that sometimes
something happens better than all the riches
or power in the world. It could be anything,
but very likely you notice it in the instant
when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the
case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid
of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb.
Rather than the roof falling in, “sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world.” We experience love and are able to see the abundance of this world, the abundance of our lives, the abundance of God. “Don’t be afraid of its plenty.” Our generosity grows out of that abundance and joy.