Stewardship and Mission

Dear Conversation Tree family,
Happy Sabbath.

I've been looking at next week’s lesson: “Stewardship and Mission,” and I have a confession.
At first glance, I thought I knew where this lesson was going.

Stewardship.

You know the usual territory.

• Money.
• Tithes.
• Offerings.
• Budgets.
• Giving.
• Responsible management.

Important things, certainly. But then I came across a sentence that made me stop.
Paul says:
“Though He was rich, yet for your sakes He became poor.”
And I began wondering…

• What if we've been looking at stewardship from the wrong end?
• What if stewardship isn't primarily about what we give God?
• What if it begins with what God has already given us?

And then it gets even more interesting.
Because the moment I put Jesus at the center of the lesson, stewardship and mission suddenly became inseparable.
God gives.
Christ gives.
And somehow, we are invited into that giving.

But here is the question I don't want to answer for you before tomorrow:
Why does God give something to one person that another person needs?

Think about that.

• Why does one person have resources while another has a need?
• Why does one have a gift for teaching, another for encouraging, another for giving, another for serving?
• Why does one have money, another time, another influence, another a skill that someone else desperately needs?

Is it all simply for our own benefit?
Or could it be that some of what God puts in our hands is intended to pass through our hands?

That question takes us somewhere very different from a discussion about money.
It takes us to Jesus.
To grace.
To generosity.
To mission.
And perhaps even to a question we don't always like asking:
What happens when God's blessings reach us—but stop with us?

I'm not going to answer that this afternoon.
Tomorrow, the Tree comes alive.
And I suspect this lesson may make us look at something very familiar in a completely different way.

So come ready.
Bring your Bible.
Bring your experience.
Bring your questions.

And perhaps most importantly…
bring an open heart.
Because tomorrow we aren't just going to talk about what we have.
_We're going to ask:
Why did God put it in our hands ?

When you hear the word stewardship, what comes to mind?

Tithe and offerings.

Budgets. Fundraising. Supporting the work of the church.

All reasonable answers. But perhaps Paul wants us to look at stewardship from the other end.
He says, “For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though He was rich, yet for your sakes He became poor.”

Why would Paul introduce Jesus into a discussion about an offering?

Because Jesus is our example of giving?

Yes. But notice where Paul begins. Not with what the Corinthians should give, but with what Christ had already given.
Before there was our gift, there was His grace.

So stewardship begins with grace?

Exactly.
And that raises an uncomfortable question:
Are we giving because we have encountered grace—or because we have been given a target?

But the church has to set financial goals. Evangelistic campaigns cost money.

Of course. Planning and budgeting are legitimate. The question is what happens when a budget becomes an obligation imposed on members.
Paul says, “ I speak not by commandment ,” and speaks of a “willing mind .”
So when does an invitation to participate in mission become an obligation to meet the budget?

Especially when every member is assigned a financial goal.

Yes. The church can tell us what the mission requires. But can the church determine exactly what God requires each person to give?
Those are not necessarily the same thing.

But if everyone isn't pressured, what happens when the goal isn't reached?

That is the tension.
But Paul gives us another safeguard. He says he doesn't want some to be relieved while others are burdened.
Christian generosity should never become spiritual manipulation.

So a good cause can still be presented in the wrong way?

Absolutely.
We can take something beautiful—generosity—and turn it into guilt, competition, or a test of faithfulness.
And then something else happens.
We start measuring generosity by the size of the gift.

But look at the Macedonians. They were poor, yet they gave generously.
Their generosity wasn't explained by abundance.
It was explained by grace.

So the question isn't simply how much someone gives?

No.
It is also what is happening in the heart of the giver.
And now we reach what I think is the most uncomfortable question of all:
Can we give money without giving ourselves?

What do you mean?

• I can finance an evangelistic campaign and never speak to my neighbor about Christ.
• I can support a mission project and ignore the lonely person sitting beside me.
• I can give generously to the church while being stingy with forgiveness, compassion, time, and attention.
• I can fund ministry without allowing ministry to transform me.

Then, a church could have a generous offering plate and an ungenerous heart.

Exactly.
Money is easy to count.
Love isn't.
A budget can tell us how much we collected. It cannot tell us how much Christlike love was released into the world.

But Paul wasn't simply raising money. There were people who needed help.

That's crucial.
The collection was for real people—believers who were suffering.
Mission wasn't an abstract budget.
It had human faces.
The resources were supposed to move from one person's abundance toward another person's need.

So, mission is what the moneyʻ is supposed to become.

Exactly.
Mission is not what happens after the offering is collected.
*
And that brings us back to Jesus.
He didn't merely give something.
He gave Himself.

He left glory.
He embraced humanity.
He became a servant.
He accepted the cross.
And Paul says He did it “for your sakes.”
So perhaps Jesus isn't simply teaching us how much to give.He's showing us what a life shaped by grace looks like.

Then what is the ultimate test of stewardship?

Perhaps it's not simply, “How much did I give?”
It is:
“What is God making of me through what He has placed in my hands?”
And perhaps an even harder question:
“What has God placed in my hands that was never meant to stop there?”
If everything God gives us stops with us, have we really understood the example of Jesus?

Then stewardship isn't merely about giving things back to God.

No.
It is about allowing what God has given us to become a blessing to someone else.
Because Christ was rich—yet He became poor.
Not because heaven lacked anything. But because love refused to keep everything for itself.

Perhaps that is the real challenge of this lesson:
Are we merely learning how to give what we have—or are we learning how to give ourselves?

When you hear the word stewardship, what comes to mind?

Tithe and offerings.

Budgets. Fundraising. Supporting church work.

All reasonable. But Paul goes deeper. He doesn't start with what the Corinthians should give—he starts with what Christ gave. And he lays out four distinct reasons for giving.

First, gratitude for God's grace.
Paul frames the passage with charis—grace. He opens with “ the grace of God ” and closes with “Thanks be for His inexpressible gift.”
Giving isn't a debt—it's a response to a gift already received.

So, no pressure?

Grace comes first.
Second, following Jesus’ example:
 “ Though He was rich, yet for your sakes He became poor. ”
Jesus gave Himself—not just something. Our offerings echo that self-giving love.

And the third?

Sharing God's blessings. God supplies seed and bread—He enriches us not to hoard, but to be generous.

Fourth, sincere love.
Paul calls giving the “test” of genuine love—proof that love dwells in the heart, putting resources where words are.

But what if a church sets financial goals and assigns amounts to members?

Isn't that just encouraging participation?

Planning isn't wrong. But Paul says, “I speak not by commandment .”
He wants willing minds, not mere obligation. And he adds, “Not that others should be eased and you burdened.”

Giving should never become a spiritual weight on those who can't carry it.

So when does invitation become obligation?

That's the tension. The Macedonians show the answer: they gave generously—beyond their means—but poverty didn't produce it; grace did.
Paul emphasizes they “ gave themselves first to the Lord.”

Once you give yourself to God, the question shifts from meeting a quota to how God wants what He placed in your hands to be used.

Can we give money without giving ourselves?

That's the deeper question. We can finance evangelism and never speak to our neighbour.
We can support missions and remain indifferent to the hurting person beside us.
We can give generously while withholding forgiveness, compassion, time, or love.

So a church could have a full offering plate yet have an ungenerous heart.

Exactly. And that leads to a sensitive matter: when one specific financial practice becomes a primary criterion for evaluating spiritual faithfulness—even for leadership.

Someone could be considered faithful for following that practice, while someone who doesn't is viewed as unsuitable?

Yes. Financial faithfulness does matter—Paul never dismisses it—but the question is whether one measurable area becomes the defining credential for spiritual office.

A person can be diligent in that practice and still lack humility, compassion, integrity, or the servant heart of Christ.
We can be faithful with God's money yet fail to be faithful with God's people.

So we hold that tension carefully.

Precisely. And that brings us back to Jesus. He didn't merely give something—He gave Himself. He served, humbled Himself, and gave His life. That's Paul's picture of stewardship.

Money is just one thing God places in our hands. He also gives time, abilities, influence, relationships, and the capacity to serve.

So what should we really ask about stewardship?

Perhaps not merely, “How much did I give?” But rather, “What is what God has placed in my hands becoming?”

Is it becoming ministry? Compassion? Help for someone in need? Not compared to others—but compared to what Christ gave for me.
Paul points us back to the One who was rich yet became poor.

So the deepest question isn't, “What am I willing to give?”
It is, “Am I willing to become like the One who gave Himself for me?”

Let’s start with a strange question:
What if the greatest lesson about giving begins before there is anything to give?

What do you mean?

Before humanity fell, God already planned to give Himself through Christ. He wasn’t surprised by our need—He planned His gift beforehand.
Paul brings that same principle into Christian giving. In 2 Corinthians 9:7, he writes: “ Each one must give what he has decided in his heart.”

Paul isn’t describing an emotional reaction to a plea. He’s describing a deliberate, pre-meditated choice, made in prayer, before the offering plate is ever passed.

That’s clarifying. So, if I prayerfully determine what I can give—considering my income, responsibilities, and what I believe God is asking—I’ve fulfilled that principle. But what happens when another appeal comes in saying, “We still need more”?
Am I expected to change my decision?

Maybe God is asking you to give more.

Maybe. But here’s the uncomfortable question:
How do I know it’s God’s conviction—or simply the pressure of the appeal?

That’s precisely why Paul adds the second half of the verse: “not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver.”
An appeal isn’t wrong—needs change. But Paul gives the believer freedom: the church may present the need, but it cannot take ownership of the giver’s conscience. Your "yes" must come from a cheerful heart, not from guilt.

Couldn’t someone misuse that freedom? Couldn’t I say, “I’ve already decided,” when I actually know I could give more?

Absolutely. And that’s where Paul’s second principle—proportionality—becomes uncomfortable.
The Macedonians gave “according to their means.” Paul tells the Corinthians to give “ according to what one has, not according to what one does not have.”

So Paul doesn’t say: “Give whatever makes you look faithful.”
Nor does he say: “Give whatever the church requests.”
He says, in effect: Look honestly at what God has entrusted to you—and give accordingly.
That requires honest self-examination, not self-justification.

So the question isn’t just, “What do I want to give?”
It’s also: “Am I using what I don’t have as an excuse when I actually could do more?”

Exactly. Have we planned our giving—or have we planned our excuses? Sometimes we say, “I can’t afford it,” when what we really mean is, “I don’t want to rearrange my priorities.”
Sometimes we say, “I’ll give when the need arises,” but Paul says: Decide beforehand.

But shouldn’t that same principle apply to the church itself?
If we’re called to plan carefully, shouldn’t those asking for funds plan carefully, too?

Yes—and that’s where this gets equally uncomfortable. If Paul expects individual believers to plan with wisdom, then leadership should model that same wisdom.

So suppose a project is announced, the budget is prepared, members sacrifice—and then the money runs short. Another appeal. Then another.
At what point do we stop asking, “Why aren’t the members giving more?”
and start asking, “Why wasn’t the project planned better?”

That’s a fair question—but we have to be careful.
Planning and faith are not opposites. Sometimes a shortfall reveals a lack of generosity. Other times, it reveals a lack of foresight. But let’s not label every under-funded project a “faith project” to excuse poor stewardship.

Conversely, let’s not use “better planning” as an excuse to never step out in faith. The early church didn’t have perfect spreadsheets—but they did have prayerful, proportional giving.

So a financial shortfall isn’t automatically evidence that members are unfaithful?

Not automatically. Sometimes it reveals a lack of generosity. But sometimes—it reveals a lack of planning on the part of leadership. Accountability goes both ways. Members shouldn’t use planning as an excuse for selfishness. And leadership shouldn’t use “the work of God” as an excuse for sloppy stewardship.

That’s a dangerous balance to strike.

It is. But Paul’s ultimate concern isn’t just the money. It’s what grace has produced in us. God supplies the seed. We decide how to sow it. And the harvest isn’t merely a successful project—the harvest is thanksgiving to God.

So the real question isn’t, “How much did we give?”

Exactly. The real question is:
What did our giving reveal about the God we say we trust?
Did it reveal generosity? Freedom? Wisdom? Compassion?
Or did it reveal fear, pressure, or poor stewardship—on either side of the offering plate?

So our offering doesn’t just reveal what we think about money.
It reveals what we think about God.

Yes. And that’s why planning matters.
Because before money ever leaves our hands,
something has already happened in our hearts.

Let's begin with 2 Corinthians 8:1–5. Paul describes Christians in Macedonia who were experiencing “extreme poverty,” yet they gave with remarkable generosity.

But notice something important: Paul doesn't begin by telling us how much they gave. He tells us how they gave.
I see five attitudes in the passage.

JOY.
They gave with “ abundant joy.”

GENEROSITY.
They gave even though their resources were severely limited.

FREEDOM
Paul says they gave “of their own free will .”

PRIVILEGE.
They actually pleaded for the privilege of participating.

CONSECRATION.
“They gave themselves first to the Lord.”

So Paul's emphasis appears to be less about the amount and more about the heart behind the giving.

But let's test that.
What objections or concerns might we raise about this passage?

If they were extremely poor, shouldn't Paul have told them to keep what they had?

That's what concerns me, too. Sometimes, we can take a beautiful story of sacrificial giving and turn it into a standard for everyone.

Good. So here's the first tension:
Can an example of extraordinary generosity become an expectation placed on ordinary believers?

The Macedonians gave voluntarily. Paul doesn't describe him pressuring them into giving.

But churches today regularly encourage people to give. Isn't that appropriate?

Encouragement is appropriate. But what happens when encouragement becomes guilt?
“God has blessed you.”
“Think about what Christ sacrificed .”
“Others are giving.”
“Don't miss your blessing.”_

Can giving remain cheerful when people believe they will be spiritually judged for not giving?

Not easily. Giving may be outwardly generous, but it is difficult for it to remain genuinely cheerful when fear of spiritual judgment is driving it. Paul emphasizes willing, joyful giving—not giving under guilt or coercion.

But isn't giving to God different from giving to the church?

Giving to the church can be an expression of giving to God, but the two are not automatically identical. Paul makes that distinction clear. The Macedonians first gave themselves to the Lord, and then, by God's will, they gave to the ministry.

God receives the gift through the heart of the giver; the church receives the resources as a steward of what has been given.

Then, the church shouldn't claim that every financial contribution to its programs is automatically an offering to God?

Not automatically. A contribution becomes an offering to God when it is given to Him in faith and sincerity—not simply because it passes through a church.
The church may be the channel through which the gift is used, but God looks first at the heart of the giver.

Paul gives us the order: “They gave themselves first to the Lord. ”
Their financial giving flowed from that surrender.

So the deeper question isn't simply, “Did the money go to the church?”
It is, “Did the gift flow from a heart that belongs to Christ?

Then I have another uncomfortable question.
If the money belongs to God, shouldn't the people and institutions receiving it also be accountable to God?

Yes.
We often hear:
“It's God's money.”
But that principle cannot operate only in one direction.
If members are accountable for how they use God's resources, leaders and institutions are accountable for how they use them, too.
God's ownership creates accountability at both ends of the transaction.

But doesn't the church need money to function?

Of course it does.
The question isn't whether the church needs resources.
The question is:
Can legitimate institutional needs become so prominent that members begin to measure faithfulness primarily by financial contribution?

Because then giving can become a credential.
Someone who gives consistently may be regarded as more faithful than someone who gives little.

And Paul makes us uncomfortable here.
His emphasis is not:
“Show me how much you gave.”
It is:
“You gave yourselves first to the Lord.”

So, what should the church actually be trying to produce—larger offerings or surrendered people?

Ideally, both.
But if we get the order wrong, we can have generous offerings without transformed hearts.

That's the heart of the lesson.
A church can increase giving without increasing surrender.
And that should concern us.
Because the Christian goal isn't simply to get more money moving toward the church.
It is to get more of Christ's life moving through His people.

When we truly give ourselves to Christ, generosity becomes less about what we are losing—and more about what we have the privilege of sharing.
That is the attitude Paul saw in the Macedonians.

Today, we're going to conduct a test.
Not a test of how much we know—or give.
A unity test.

A unity test?

Yes. We may discover we've been using the wrong measure.

TEST #1 — GIVING

A church sends thousands of dollars to help Christians overseas. Are they united?

Of course. They're helping fellow believers.

Maybe. Because we can send money thousands of miles away and still ignore the struggling believer sitting three rows behind us.

Exactly. Paul's collection wasn't simply about moving money from Corinth to Jerusalem. He wanted Jewish and Gentile believers—separated by culture, history, and prejudice—to recognize one another as one family in Christ.

TEST #2 — DOCTRINE

Everyone in the church believes exactly the same doctrine. Are they united?

That sounds like unity.

Or conformity.

Doctrine matters. Truth matters. But here's the tension:
Is Christian unity created by everyone agreeing with one another—or by everyone belonging to Christ?

But if we disagree about doctrine, doesn't that destroy unity?

Not necessarily. Disagreement can test unity without destroying it.
If unity means, “We are together because we believe exactly the same things,” every disagreement becomes a threat.

But if our unity is rooted in Christ, disagreement can become an opportunity to listen, study, bear with one another, and remain brothers and sisters while seeking truth.
That doesn't make truth unimportant. It makes love important while we pursue truth.

So a church could be doctrinally correct and still be relationally broken?

Absolutely. We can defend truth while wounding people. We can be right about doctrine and wrong in spirit.
If our definition of unity cannot survive honest disagreement, perhaps what we've created is not unity—but uniformity.

TEST #3 — INSTITUTIONAL LOYALTY

Everyone faithfully supports the church—offerings, missions, programs. United?

I would say yes.

I'm not so sure. Someone can be deeply loyal to an institution while being spiritually disconnected from Christ and other believers.

That's the distinction. Christ is the Head of the church. The institution serves His mission, but it is not Christ. Our ultimate allegiance belongs to Him.

TEST #4 — ACCOUNTABILITY

But I've heard leaders say, “ Your responsibility is to be faithful in your tithes and offerings. Don't worry about how the hierarchy uses the money. They have to answer to God.”

Isn't that true?

Leaders certainly will answer to God. But does that mean members have no legitimate concern about how God's money is handled?
Look at Paul. He made the handling of the collection accountable and entrusted it to trustworthy representatives.

Faithfulness in giving and accountability in handling belong together.

So, asking responsible questions isn't automatically disloyal?

No. Accountability isn't the enemy of unity. It can protect unity.
Members are accountable for what they give; leaders for what they receive and administer. Both answer to God.

TEST #5 — RECIPROCITY

Now Romans 15: 26–27. Why were the Gentile believers willing to contribute to Jerusalem?

Because the believers there were poor?

Yes, but Paul gives another reason. They had received spiritual blessings from them.
Their giving wasn't simply, “You have a need; we have resources.” It was, “We have received from you; now we share with you.”

So this wasn't charity from superior people to inferior people.

No. It was fellowship—reciprocity, family.

THE FINAL TEST

Now, let's make this personal.
You give generously. You support missions. You contribute to evangelism. You faithfully support the church.
But there's one person in your congregation you cannot stand.
Are you united?

That changes the question.

Maybe we've been measuring unity with the wrong ruler.

Exactly. Paul's collection wasn't merely asking, “ How much will you give?”
It was asking, “Do you really believe these people belong to you—and that you belong to them?”

Paul calls the collection service, grace, blessing, worship, and fellowship.
That's much more than fundraising.

Then what's the real offering?

Perhaps it's not simply what crosses the offering plate.
Perhaps it's what we're willing to let Christ remove from the walls between us.

Pride?
Prejudice?

Sometimes.

The need to be right?

Often.

Then what does genuine unity look like?

People who are different choosing to love because they belong to the same Christ.

So here's the final question:
If my offering says, “We are one,” does the way I treat God's people say the same thing?

Paul wasn't merely collecting money. He was looking for evidence that the gospel had broken down the walls between God's people.

We have spent this week talking about giving.
We have talked about grace, generosity, planning, attitude, sacrifice, and mission. We have looked at the Macedonians and at Jesus, who gave Himself for us.

But there is another person in the story we don't often talk about:
the person who receives.

Imagine being on the other side of our generosity.
You have a need. Perhaps you're struggling financially, grieving, unemployed, sick, or simply unsure how you'll get through another week.
Someone comes to help.
The money matters.
The food matters.
The clothing matters.
The practical assistance matters.
But something else matters too:
How did the person make you feel?
Did you feel loved—or pitied?
Did you feel respected—or exposed?
Did you feel helped as a brother or sister—or treated as someone's charity project?

That question takes us deeper into Paul's teaching.
The collection for the believers in Judea wasn't simply about moving money from one group to another. Paul was building a bridge between people who lived in different places and came from different backgrounds.

The Gentile believers weren't simply funding a distant cause.
They were saying:
“Your need matters to us because you matter to us.”
That is a very different kind of giving.
Sometimes we focus so much on what we are giving that we forget about the person receiving it.

We can proudly report how much was raised for a mission project while failing to notice the person beside us who desperately needs someone to listen.
We can send offerings across oceans and never cross the street to check on a lonely neighbor.
We can fund evangelism while overlooking the person who stopped coming to church because nobody noticed they were hurting.

None of this makes mission offerings unimportant.
It makes them incomplete when separated from love.
Jesus didn't merely give something to us.
He gave Himself.
He entered our world.
He touched people others avoided.
He noticed people others overlooked.
He stopped for people others hurried past.
He didn't treat human beings as problems to be solved.
He treated them as people to be loved.

Perhaps that's one of the deepest lessons in stewardship.
God hasn't only placed money in our hands.
He has placed people, time, abilities, influence, opportunities, and relationships in our hands.

Some of the most valuable things we can give cannot be deposited in an offering plate.
We can give someone our attention, patience, forgiveness, presence, knowledge, encouragement, or a second chance.
Sometimes the person who needs our stewardship isn't asking for money at all.
They're asking, without knowing how to say it:
“Will somebody notice me?”

Perhaps that's where the Macedonians challenge us.
Paul says they “gave themselves first to the Lord.”
Notice the order.
They didn't merely give something that belonged to them.
They gave themselves.

That is what makes Christian stewardship different from philanthropy.
Philanthropy can transfer resources.
Christlike stewardship seeks to restore people.

So perhaps we need to ask a different question this Sabbath.
Not simply:
“How much did I give?”

But
“What did the person on the receiving end experience?”
Did they experience dignity, compassion, belonging, and hope?
Did they see something of Jesus?

A gift can meet a physical need and still leave a spiritual wound.
But when generosity carries love, something greater happens.
The receiver doesn't simply receive something from us.
They experience something of Christ through us.
And perhaps that is the real connection between stewardship and mission.

Mission isn't simply taking something to someone.
Sometimes mission is going to someone.
Sometimes love doesn't send a gift.
Love shows up.