From All We Have to All We Are
11 Oct 2026 Leave a comment
in Devotions
“I appeal to you therefore, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.” — Romans 12:1 (NRSVUE)
Stewardship often begins with a simple question:
What has God placed in my hands?
Our time. Our resources. Our abilities. Our relationships. Our opportunities.
Psalm 24 begins with the reminder that “the earth is the LORD’s and all that is in it” (Psalm 24:1). Everything we have ultimately comes from God. Christian stewardship, then, is about receiving those gifts with gratitude and using them faithfully.
But Scripture eventually takes us deeper.
God is not simply interested in what is in our hands. God is interested in the person those hands belong to.
All of Life
In Deuteronomy, Moses tells the people:
“You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might.”
— Deuteronomy 6:5 (NRSVUE)
Then Moses makes this command surprisingly ordinary. God’s people are to speak of these words while they are at home and while they are away, when they lie down and when they rise (Deuteronomy 6:6–9).
In other words, loving God is not something confined to a worship service.
Our faith belongs at the kitchen table and in the workplace. It travels with us in the car and accompanies us into difficult conversations. It shapes what we do with our money, how we spend our time, how we treat our neighbors, and how we respond to people who hurt us.
There is no part of ordinary life that falls outside our worship of God.
That can sound like an enormous demand.
All my heart? All my soul? All my strength? God wants all of me?
But before we hear this as one more religious obligation, notice where Paul begins when he talks about offering our whole lives to God.
Because of God’s Mercies
Romans 12 begins with these words:
“By the mercies of God…” (Romans 12:1).
The order matters.
Paul does not say, Offer yourself so that God will be merciful.
Paul does not say, Give God enough of your life and perhaps God will love you.
Paul has spent the previous chapters of Romans describing what God has already done: grace freely given, reconciliation accomplished through Christ, new life offered to people who could never earn it for themselves (see Romans 3:21–26; 5:6–11; 8:1–2, 31–39).
Grace comes first.
Then, because of God’s mercy, Paul invites us to offer our lives in response.
That distinction matters whenever Christians talk about stewardship. Stewardship can easily become a list of everything we ought to do:
Give more.
Serve more.
Volunteer more.
Be more committed.
But the Christian life does not begin with what we give to God. It begins with what God has given to us.
Our generosity, our service, and even the offering of all that we are are responses to grace.
Becoming a Living Sacrifice
Paul describes this response as presenting ourselves to God as a “living sacrifice” (Romans 12:1).
It is a strange and beautiful phrase.
A sacrifice was something placed on an altar and offered to God. But this sacrifice is living.
A living sacrifice gets up in the morning.
It goes to work or school. It makes breakfast. It pays bills. It sits around the dinner table. It cares for someone who is hurting. It makes decisions about money. It chooses how to respond when someone says something hurtful.
A living sacrifice lives an ordinary Tuesday afternoon.
This is where Deuteronomy and Romans meet. Loving God with all that we are means our ordinary lives become places of worship.
The way we treat people can become worship.
The way we use our time can become worship.
The way we care for another person can become worship.
Our hearts, minds, relationships, choices, resources, and ordinary days can all become offerings to God.
What Is Shaping Us?
Paul continues:
“Do not be conformed to this age, but be transformed by the renewing of the mind.”
— Romans 12:2 (NRSVUE)
Something is always shaping us.
Every day, voices tell us what matters, what success looks like, what we need in order to be happy, what we should fear, who deserves our attention, and what makes a life valuable.
Often that shaping happens so quietly that we hardly notice it.
Paul invites followers of Jesus to discover another way of seeing.
God’s grace does not only change what we believe about God. Grace begins changing the way we see everything.
It changes how we see ourselves.
It changes how we see people who are different from us.
It changes how we think about possessions and success.
It changes how we respond when someone hurts us.
It changes what we believe is worth giving our lives to.
This transformation rarely happens all at once. God continues working within us, renewing our minds and teaching us to see ourselves and our neighbors more fully through the love of Christ.
Jesus shows us what such a life looks like: noticing people others overlook, serving rather than seeking to be served, and giving oneself away in love (see Mark 10:42–45; Luke 10:25–37; John 13:1–17).
Grace does not simply forgive us and leave us where we were. Grace keeps forming us into people who love God and our neighbors more fully.
We Belong to Each Other
Significantly, Paul moves from personal transformation directly to community.
“For as in one body we have many members, and not all the members have the same function, so we, who are many, are one body in Christ, and individually we are members one of another.”
— Romans 12:4–5 (NRSVUE)
Christian faith was never meant to be lived alone.
We belong to one another.
That means each of us has something to offer, and each of us needs what others have been given.
Paul names some of these gifts: serving, teaching, encouraging, giving, leading, and showing compassion (Romans 12:6–8).
Different people. Different gifts. Different ways for God’s grace to become visible.
One person teaches. Another fixes what is broken. Someone notices a lonely neighbor and makes a phone call. Someone prepares a meal. Someone makes music. Someone gives quietly. Someone sits beside a hurting person and listens. Someone offers encouragement at exactly the right moment.
The people doing these things may not even think of them as spiritual gifts. They may simply think, This is who I am.
But when those gifts are offered in love, the grace we have received begins flowing through us toward someone else.
None of us can be the whole body of Christ by ourselves.
Perhaps that is part of the gift: God has not given everything to any one of us.
God has given us to one another.
So perhaps the question is not simply, What am I good at?
A better question might be:
Who has God created and shaped me to be—and how can that life become a gift to someone else?
The Person in the Mirror
Imagine standing in front of a mirror.
What do you see?
When Paul says to “present your bodies as a living sacrifice” (Romans 12:1), the invitation is not simply to consider what you possess that could be given away.
The invitation is to see your whole life as an offering.
The person in that mirror.
Your heart.
Your mind.
Your abilities.
Your experiences.
Your relationships.
Your compassion.
Your resources.
Your ordinary days.
All that you are.
But remember where Paul began:
“By the mercies of God.”
The person in the mirror does not have to prove anything to God.
You do not have to become more useful to earn God’s love.
Grace has already come to you.
And grace is still at work within you—transforming, renewing, and teaching you to love.
So the next time you catch your reflection in a mirror, consider offering a simple prayer:
God, how can you use me to share your love today?
Or, put another way:
How can the grace I have received become grace for someone else?
Perhaps it will happen through listening.
Encouraging.
Serving.
Giving.
Showing mercy.
Noticing someone who needs care.
Simply being present.
Stewardship begins with the question, What has God placed in my hands?
But eventually the invitation goes deeper:
How can God use the person those hands belong to?
All my heart.
All my soul.
All my strength.
All my gifts.
All my ordinary days.
All we are, in response to all God has given.
All We Have: The Courage to Plant
07 Oct 2026 Leave a comment
in Devotions
Midweek Devotional | Matthew 25:14–30
“So I was afraid, and I hid my valuable coin in the ground.” — Matthew 25:25
Have you ever kept something so safe that you never actually used it?
Imagine receiving a packet of seeds. You could tuck it into a drawer where the seeds would be protected from birds, storms, and anything else that might harm them. Months later, every seed would still be there, exactly where you left it.
But nothing would have grown.
In Jesus’ parable of the talents, a master entrusts three servants with extraordinary amounts of money. Two put what they have received to work. The third buries his share. When the master returns, the third servant explains his decision in five revealing words: “So I was afraid.”
He hadn’t stolen the money or spent it carelessly. He had kept it safe. But fear prevented him from doing anything with what had been entrusted to him.
I wonder how often fear shapes our own decisions.
Perhaps you’ve hesitated to offer your abilities because someone else seems more qualified. Maybe you’ve held back an act of generosity because you worry about having enough. Or perhaps you’ve felt a nudge to reach out to someone but feared saying the wrong thing.
Fear can convince us that keeping everything safe is the most responsible choice.
But Christian stewardship begins with a different understanding of our lives. As Psalm 24 reminds us, “The earth is the LORD’s and everything in it.” Our time, abilities, relationships, and resources are gifts from God, entrusted to our care.
And God’s gifts are meant to bear fruit.
That doesn’t mean every risk is wise or that every attempt will succeed. It means we can trust God’s grace enough to take a faithful next step.
On Sunday, we celebrated World Communion Sunday. Around the world, Christians gathered at Christ’s Table with open hands. We came not to prove what we had accomplished, but to receive what Christ freely gives.
That is where faithful stewardship begins: not with pressure to do more, but with gratitude for what we have already received.
So consider what God has placed in your hands. It may be an ability, a resource, an opportunity, or simply the capacity to offer someone kindness.
You don’t have to know exactly what will grow from it.
Sometimes faith means planting the seed, trusting God, and seeing what grows.
What is one gift God has placed in your hands that fear may be keeping you from using? What would it look like to take one small, faithful step this week?
Generous God, thank you for the gifts you have entrusted to me. Where fear has caused me to hold back, give me courage. Open my hands to receive your grace and share it with others. Help me plant what you have given me and trust you with what grows. Amen.
Before It Was Mine: What Has God Placed in Your Hands?
04 Oct 2026 Leave a comment
in Devotions Tags: bible, christianity, faith, god, jesus
What if generosity begins not with what we give, but with recognizing everything we have already received?
Scripture: Psalm 24:1; Matthew 25:14–30
There is a word that tends to make people uncomfortable when it comes up in church: stewardship.
For many of us, it immediately brings money to mind. Giving, church budgets, fundraising campaigns, and conversations about how much we ought to contribute.
But Christian stewardship is about something much bigger than money. It is about how we understand our lives, what we do with what we have been given, and whether we trust God enough to live generously.
And perhaps the most important thing to understand about stewardship is this: it doesn’t begin with what we give. It begins with what we have received.
Before It Was Mine, It Was God’s
“The earth is the LORD’s and everything in it, the world and its inhabitants too.” — Psalm 24:1 (CEB)
Think about how often we use the word mine.
My house. My money. My time. My abilities. My plans. My life.
There is nothing inherently wrong with that language. We work hard, make decisions, and take responsibility for the things in our care. But Psalm 24 invites us to see our lives from a different perspective.
Before any of it was mine, it was God’s.
The breath we took this morning. The people we love. The abilities we have developed. The resources available to us. Even the hours that make up this day.
All of it is gift.
That changes the first question we ask about stewardship. Instead of beginning with “How much am I supposed to give?” we might begin with something far more meaningful:
What has God placed in my hands?
The Extraordinary Gift of Being Trusted
In Matthew 25:14–30, Jesus tells a story about a wealthy man preparing to leave on a journey. Before departing, he calls three servants together and entrusts his possessions to them.
One receives five talents, another receives two, and the third receives one.
A talent in Jesus’ day wasn’t a natural ability, as we commonly use the word today. It was an enormous amount of money, roughly equivalent to fifteen years of wages for an ordinary laborer.
Even the servant who received only one talent was entrusted with extraordinary wealth.
We often read this parable and immediately focus on what the servants did with the money. But before we consider their actions, it’s worth noticing what the master did.
He placed something incredibly valuable into their hands and gave them the freedom to do something with it.
Imagine approaching your own life from that perspective.
Instead of asking what God expects from you, consider what God has already entrusted to you.
Your time. Your relationships. Your experiences. Your creativity. Your compassion. Your financial resources. Your ability to encourage someone who is struggling. Perhaps even your own story of experiencing God’s grace.
Not everyone receives the same gifts or has access to the same resources. Our circumstances, opportunities, and responsibilities differ considerably.
But the invitation isn’t to compare what we have with what someone else possesses. It is to recognize what has been placed in our own hands and consider how we might use it faithfully.
Stewardship begins with recognizing that we are already standing in the middle of God’s generosity.
When Fear Makes Us Bury Our Gifts
In Jesus’ parable, the first two servants put their master’s money to work. The third servant takes a different approach.
He digs a hole and buries what he has received.
When the master returns and asks him to explain his decision, the servant offers a revealing answer:
“I was afraid.” (Matthew 25:25, CEB)
Fear shaped the way this servant understood his master, and fear determined what he did with the extraordinary gift entrusted to him.
It’s worth considering how often fear shapes our own decisions.
Sometimes fear tells us that what we have isn’t enough to make a difference. Sometimes it convinces us that someone else could do a better job. Sometimes it makes us reluctant to give because we worry that we might need those resources later.
We hesitate to reach out because we might be rejected. We avoid trying something new because we might fail. We hold back our compassion because caring deeply about someone makes us vulnerable.
Even churches and other organizations can become so concerned about preserving what they have that they lose sight of why those resources were entrusted to them in the first place.
We can protect something so carefully that we never actually use it.
Of course, faithfulness doesn’t mean recklessness. Wise stewardship requires discernment, responsible decisions, and attention to our own limitations.
But faith does involve risk.
We cannot love without risking being hurt. We cannot serve without accepting some inconvenience. We cannot give generously without releasing some control. And we cannot always follow God’s leading while knowing exactly where the path will take us.
Fear asks, “How can I keep this safe?”
Faith asks, “God, what can you do with this?”
The question isn’t simply whether we’ve preserved what God has given us. It’s whether we’ve trusted God enough to use it.
Grace Comes Before Generosity
There is a danger in reading the parable of the talents as nothing more than a command to work harder, accomplish more, or produce impressive results for God.
That interpretation can turn stewardship into another exhausting attempt to prove our worth.
But the Christian understanding of grace offers a different starting point.
We don’t live generously to earn God’s love. We live generously because we have already received it.
This truth is beautifully expressed in Holy Communion.
When Christians gather around Christ’s Table, we don’t come to demonstrate everything we’ve accomplished. We don’t come because we’ve used every gift perfectly or finally gotten our lives together.
We come because Christ invites us.
We come with empty hands, ready to receive.
In the Gospels, Jesus takes bread, blesses it, breaks it, and gives it to the disciples (Luke 22:19). That simple act of giving becomes central to the Christian understanding of God’s grace.
Communion reminds us that our relationship with God begins not with our accomplishments but with Christ’s generosity.
And this is a gift shared by Christians across the world. On World Communion Sunday, many congregations celebrate this connection, remembering that people from different nations, cultures, languages, and economic circumstances are united through Christ.
Some gather in magnificent sanctuaries. Others gather in modest churches, homes, or places where practicing their faith requires considerable courage.
Some come with abundance. Others know intimately what it means to go without.
Yet all come to receive the grace of God.
As Ephesians 2:8–10 reminds us, we are saved by grace through faith, not by our own accomplishments, and we are created in Christ Jesus for good works.
Grace comes first. Our response follows.
And perhaps knowing that we are already loved gives us the courage to loosen our grip on what we have.
The hands that receive God’s grace can become hands that share God’s grace.
What Will You Plant?
Consider a seed.
If your only goal were to keep a seed safe, you could place it in a container, protect it from the weather, and make sure nothing disturbed it.
It would remain safe.
But it would never become what it was created to become.
For a seed to grow, it must eventually be planted. It must be released into the soil, where growth can begin.
Jesus uses a similar image in John 12:24, describing how a grain of wheat must fall into the earth for new life to emerge.
Perhaps the same is true of the gifts God has entrusted to us.
Our time, compassion, abilities, relationships, and resources were never intended simply to be buried and kept safe. They are opportunities for God’s grace to take root and grow in the world.
That doesn’t mean we need to do everything, give everything away, or ignore our own needs. It means becoming more attentive to the opportunities already in front of us.
Perhaps there is a gift you’ve been hesitant to use. Someone you’ve been meaning to contact. An opportunity to serve that you’ve been reluctant to explore. A resource you could share. A step you’ve been afraid to take.
Perhaps there’s simply some part of your life you’ve been holding so tightly that God is inviting you to loosen your grip.
You don’t need to have five talents. You don’t need to possess what someone else has. And you don’t need to accomplish something extraordinary to make a meaningful difference.
You can begin with what God has already placed in your hands.
Christian stewardship, at its deepest, isn’t about accumulating accomplishments or proving ourselves worthy of God’s generosity. It’s about recognizing that everything we have is a gift and discovering how those gifts can become expressions of love.
It’s all gift. It’s all grace. And it’s all entrusted to us.
What has God placed in your hands, and what might happen if you trust God enough to plant it?
For further reflection: Read Psalm 24:1, Matthew 25:14–30, Luke 22:14–20, Ephesians 2:8–10, and John 12:24.
Before It Was Mine: What Has God Placed in Your Hands?
27 Sep 2026 Leave a comment
in Devotions Tags: bible, christianity, faith, god, jesus
What if generosity begins not with what we give, but with recognizing everything we have already received?
Scripture: Psalm 24:1; Matthew 25:14–30
There is a word that tends to make people uncomfortable when it comes up in church: stewardship.
For many of us, it immediately brings money to mind. Giving, church budgets, fundraising campaigns, and conversations about how much we ought to contribute.
But Christian stewardship is about something much bigger than money. It is about how we understand our lives, what we do with what we have been given, and whether we trust God enough to live generously.
And perhaps the most important thing to understand about stewardship is this: it doesn’t begin with what we give. It begins with what we have received.
Before It Was Mine, It Was God’s
“The earth is the LORD’s and everything in it, the world and its inhabitants too.” — Psalm 24:1 (CEB)
Think about how often we use the word mine.
My house. My money. My time. My abilities. My plans. My life.
There is nothing inherently wrong with that language. We work hard, make decisions, and take responsibility for the things in our care. But Psalm 24 invites us to see our lives from a different perspective.
Before any of it was mine, it was God’s.
The breath we took this morning. The people we love. The abilities we have developed. The resources available to us. Even the hours that make up this day.
All of it is gift.
That changes the first question we ask about stewardship. Instead of beginning with “How much am I supposed to give?” we might begin with something far more meaningful:
What has God placed in my hands?
The Extraordinary Gift of Being Trusted
In Matthew 25:14–30, Jesus tells a story about a wealthy man preparing to leave on a journey. Before departing, he calls three servants together and entrusts his possessions to them.
One receives five talents, another receives two, and the third receives one.
A talent in Jesus’ day wasn’t a natural ability, as we commonly use the word today. It was an enormous amount of money, roughly equivalent to fifteen years of wages for an ordinary laborer.
Even the servant who received only one talent was entrusted with extraordinary wealth.
We often read this parable and immediately focus on what the servants did with the money. But before we consider their actions, it’s worth noticing what the master did.
He placed something incredibly valuable into their hands and gave them the freedom to do something with it.
Imagine approaching your own life from that perspective.
Instead of asking what God expects from you, consider what God has already entrusted to you.
Your time. Your relationships. Your experiences. Your creativity. Your compassion. Your financial resources. Your ability to encourage someone who is struggling. Perhaps even your own story of experiencing God’s grace.
Not everyone receives the same gifts or has access to the same resources. Our circumstances, opportunities, and responsibilities differ considerably.
But the invitation isn’t to compare what we have with what someone else possesses. It is to recognize what has been placed in our own hands and consider how we might use it faithfully.
Stewardship begins with recognizing that we are already standing in the middle of God’s generosity.
When Fear Makes Us Bury Our Gifts
In Jesus’ parable, the first two servants put their master’s money to work. The third servant takes a different approach.
He digs a hole and buries what he has received.
When the master returns and asks him to explain his decision, the servant offers a revealing answer:
“I was afraid.” (Matthew 25:25, CEB)
Fear shaped the way this servant understood his master, and fear determined what he did with the extraordinary gift entrusted to him.
It’s worth considering how often fear shapes our own decisions.
Sometimes fear tells us that what we have isn’t enough to make a difference. Sometimes it convinces us that someone else could do a better job. Sometimes it makes us reluctant to give because we worry that we might need those resources later.
We hesitate to reach out because we might be rejected. We avoid trying something new because we might fail. We hold back our compassion because caring deeply about someone makes us vulnerable.
Even churches and other organizations can become so concerned about preserving what they have that they lose sight of why those resources were entrusted to them in the first place.
We can protect something so carefully that we never actually use it.
Of course, faithfulness doesn’t mean recklessness. Wise stewardship requires discernment, responsible decisions, and attention to our own limitations.
But faith does involve risk.
We cannot love without risking being hurt. We cannot serve without accepting some inconvenience. We cannot give generously without releasing some control. And we cannot always follow God’s leading while knowing exactly where the path will take us.
Fear asks, “How can I keep this safe?”
Faith asks, “God, what can you do with this?”
The question isn’t simply whether we’ve preserved what God has given us. It’s whether we’ve trusted God enough to use it.
Grace Comes Before Generosity
There is a danger in reading the parable of the talents as nothing more than a command to work harder, accomplish more, or produce impressive results for God.
That interpretation can turn stewardship into another exhausting attempt to prove our worth.
But the Christian understanding of grace offers a different starting point.
We don’t live generously to earn God’s love. We live generously because we have already received it.
This truth is beautifully expressed in Holy Communion.
When Christians gather around Christ’s Table, we don’t come to demonstrate everything we’ve accomplished. We don’t come because we’ve used every gift perfectly or finally gotten our lives together.
We come because Christ invites us.
We come with empty hands, ready to receive.
In the Gospels, Jesus takes bread, blesses it, breaks it, and gives it to the disciples (Luke 22:19). That simple act of giving becomes central to the Christian understanding of God’s grace.
Communion reminds us that our relationship with God begins not with our accomplishments but with Christ’s generosity.
And this is a gift shared by Christians across the world. On World Communion Sunday, many congregations celebrate this connection, remembering that people from different nations, cultures, languages, and economic circumstances are united through Christ.
Some gather in magnificent sanctuaries. Others gather in modest churches, homes, or places where practicing their faith requires considerable courage.
Some come with abundance. Others know intimately what it means to go without.
Yet all come to receive the grace of God.
As Ephesians 2:8–10 reminds us, we are saved by grace through faith, not by our own accomplishments, and we are created in Christ Jesus for good works.
Grace comes first. Our response follows.
And perhaps knowing that we are already loved gives us the courage to loosen our grip on what we have.
The hands that receive God’s grace can become hands that share God’s grace.
What Will You Plant?
Consider a seed.
If your only goal were to keep a seed safe, you could place it in a container, protect it from the weather, and make sure nothing disturbed it.
It would remain safe.
But it would never become what it was created to become.
For a seed to grow, it must eventually be planted. It must be released into the soil, where growth can begin.
Jesus uses a similar image in John 12:24, describing how a grain of wheat must fall into the earth for new life to emerge.
Perhaps the same is true of the gifts God has entrusted to us.
Our time, compassion, abilities, relationships, and resources were never intended simply to be buried and kept safe. They are opportunities for God’s grace to take root and grow in the world.
That doesn’t mean we need to do everything, give everything away, or ignore our own needs. It means becoming more attentive to the opportunities already in front of us.
Perhaps there is a gift you’ve been hesitant to use. Someone you’ve been meaning to contact. An opportunity to serve that you’ve been reluctant to explore. A resource you could share. A step you’ve been afraid to take.
Perhaps there’s simply some part of your life you’ve been holding so tightly that God is inviting you to loosen your grip.
You don’t need to have five talents. You don’t need to possess what someone else has. And you don’t need to accomplish something extraordinary to make a meaningful difference.
You can begin with what God has already placed in your hands.
Christian stewardship, at its deepest, isn’t about accumulating accomplishments or proving ourselves worthy of God’s generosity. It’s about recognizing that everything we have is a gift and discovering how those gifts can become expressions of love.
It’s all gift. It’s all grace. And it’s all entrusted to us.
What has God placed in your hands, and what might happen if you trust God enough to plant it?
For further reflection: Read Psalm 24:1, Matthew 25:14–30, Luke 22:14–20, Ephesians 2:8–10, and John 12:24.
Before It Was Mine: What Has God Placed in Your Hands?
27 Sep 2026 Leave a comment
in Devotions Tags: bible, christianity, faith, god, jesus
What if generosity begins not with what we give, but with recognizing everything we have already received?
Scripture: Psalm 24:1; Matthew 25:14–30
There is a word that tends to make people uncomfortable when it comes up in church: stewardship.
For many of us, it immediately brings money to mind. Giving, church budgets, fundraising campaigns, and conversations about how much we ought to contribute.
But Christian stewardship is about something much bigger than money. It is about how we understand our lives, what we do with what we have been given, and whether we trust God enough to live generously.
And perhaps the most important thing to understand about stewardship is this: it doesn’t begin with what we give. It begins with what we have received.
Before It Was Mine, It Was God’s
“The earth is the LORD’s and everything in it, the world and its inhabitants too.” — Psalm 24:1 (CEB)
Think about how often we use the word mine.
My house. My money. My time. My abilities. My plans. My life.
There is nothing inherently wrong with that language. We work hard, make decisions, and take responsibility for the things in our care. But Psalm 24 invites us to see our lives from a different perspective.
Before any of it was mine, it was God’s.
The breath we took this morning. The people we love. The abilities we have developed. The resources available to us. Even the hours that make up this day.
All of it is gift.
That changes the first question we ask about stewardship. Instead of beginning with “How much am I supposed to give?” we might begin with something far more meaningful:
What has God placed in my hands?
The Extraordinary Gift of Being Trusted
In Matthew 25:14–30, Jesus tells a story about a wealthy man preparing to leave on a journey. Before departing, he calls three servants together and entrusts his possessions to them.
One receives five talents, another receives two, and the third receives one.
A talent in Jesus’ day wasn’t a natural ability, as we commonly use the word today. It was an enormous amount of money, roughly equivalent to fifteen years of wages for an ordinary laborer.
Even the servant who received only one talent was entrusted with extraordinary wealth.
We often read this parable and immediately focus on what the servants did with the money. But before we consider their actions, it’s worth noticing what the master did.
He placed something incredibly valuable into their hands and gave them the freedom to do something with it.
Imagine approaching your own life from that perspective.
Instead of asking what God expects from you, consider what God has already entrusted to you.
Your time. Your relationships. Your experiences. Your creativity. Your compassion. Your financial resources. Your ability to encourage someone who is struggling. Perhaps even your own story of experiencing God’s grace.
Not everyone receives the same gifts or has access to the same resources. Our circumstances, opportunities, and responsibilities differ considerably.
But the invitation isn’t to compare what we have with what someone else possesses. It is to recognize what has been placed in our own hands and consider how we might use it faithfully.
Stewardship begins with recognizing that we are already standing in the middle of God’s generosity.
When Fear Makes Us Bury Our Gifts
In Jesus’ parable, the first two servants put their master’s money to work. The third servant takes a different approach.
He digs a hole and buries what he has received.
When the master returns and asks him to explain his decision, the servant offers a revealing answer:
“I was afraid.” (Matthew 25:25, CEB)
Fear shaped the way this servant understood his master, and fear determined what he did with the extraordinary gift entrusted to him.
It’s worth considering how often fear shapes our own decisions.
Sometimes fear tells us that what we have isn’t enough to make a difference. Sometimes it convinces us that someone else could do a better job. Sometimes it makes us reluctant to give because we worry that we might need those resources later.
We hesitate to reach out because we might be rejected. We avoid trying something new because we might fail. We hold back our compassion because caring deeply about someone makes us vulnerable.
Even churches and other organizations can become so concerned about preserving what they have that they lose sight of why those resources were entrusted to them in the first place.
We can protect something so carefully that we never actually use it.
Of course, faithfulness doesn’t mean recklessness. Wise stewardship requires discernment, responsible decisions, and attention to our own limitations.
But faith does involve risk.
We cannot love without risking being hurt. We cannot serve without accepting some inconvenience. We cannot give generously without releasing some control. And we cannot always follow God’s leading while knowing exactly where the path will take us.
Fear asks, “How can I keep this safe?”
Faith asks, “God, what can you do with this?”
The question isn’t simply whether we’ve preserved what God has given us. It’s whether we’ve trusted God enough to use it.
Grace Comes Before Generosity
There is a danger in reading the parable of the talents as nothing more than a command to work harder, accomplish more, or produce impressive results for God.
That interpretation can turn stewardship into another exhausting attempt to prove our worth.
But the Christian understanding of grace offers a different starting point.
We don’t live generously to earn God’s love. We live generously because we have already received it.
This truth is beautifully expressed in Holy Communion.
When Christians gather around Christ’s Table, we don’t come to demonstrate everything we’ve accomplished. We don’t come because we’ve used every gift perfectly or finally gotten our lives together.
We come because Christ invites us.
We come with empty hands, ready to receive.
In the Gospels, Jesus takes bread, blesses it, breaks it, and gives it to the disciples (Luke 22:19). That simple act of giving becomes central to the Christian understanding of God’s grace.
Communion reminds us that our relationship with God begins not with our accomplishments but with Christ’s generosity.
And this is a gift shared by Christians across the world. On World Communion Sunday, many congregations celebrate this connection, remembering that people from different nations, cultures, languages, and economic circumstances are united through Christ.
Some gather in magnificent sanctuaries. Others gather in modest churches, homes, or places where practicing their faith requires considerable courage.
Some come with abundance. Others know intimately what it means to go without.
Yet all come to receive the grace of God.
As Ephesians 2:8–10 reminds us, we are saved by grace through faith, not by our own accomplishments, and we are created in Christ Jesus for good works.
Grace comes first. Our response follows.
And perhaps knowing that we are already loved gives us the courage to loosen our grip on what we have.
The hands that receive God’s grace can become hands that share God’s grace.
What Will You Plant?
Consider a seed.
If your only goal were to keep a seed safe, you could place it in a container, protect it from the weather, and make sure nothing disturbed it.
It would remain safe.
But it would never become what it was created to become.
For a seed to grow, it must eventually be planted. It must be released into the soil, where growth can begin.
Jesus uses a similar image in John 12:24, describing how a grain of wheat must fall into the earth for new life to emerge.
Perhaps the same is true of the gifts God has entrusted to us.
Our time, compassion, abilities, relationships, and resources were never intended simply to be buried and kept safe. They are opportunities for God’s grace to take root and grow in the world.
That doesn’t mean we need to do everything, give everything away, or ignore our own needs. It means becoming more attentive to the opportunities already in front of us.
Perhaps there is a gift you’ve been hesitant to use. Someone you’ve been meaning to contact. An opportunity to serve that you’ve been reluctant to explore. A resource you could share. A step you’ve been afraid to take.
Perhaps there’s simply some part of your life you’ve been holding so tightly that God is inviting you to loosen your grip.
You don’t need to have five talents. You don’t need to possess what someone else has. And you don’t need to accomplish something extraordinary to make a meaningful difference.
You can begin with what God has already placed in your hands.
Christian stewardship, at its deepest, isn’t about accumulating accomplishments or proving ourselves worthy of God’s generosity. It’s about recognizing that everything we have is a gift and discovering how those gifts can become expressions of love.
It’s all gift. It’s all grace. And it’s all entrusted to us.
What has God placed in your hands, and what might happen if you trust God enough to plant it?
For further reflection: Read Psalm 24:1, Matthew 25:14–30, Luke 22:14–20, Ephesians 2:8–10, and John 12:24.
Formed for a Purpose
27 Sep 2026 Leave a comment
in Devotions
Inside my head, it is rarely quiet.
There always seems to be something rolling around in my brain—ideas, lists of things I need to do, things I need to remember, and, sometimes, things I’m worried about.
And when all of that gets quiet for a little while, there is usually music.
A song will get stuck in my head and play over and over again, sometimes for reasons I don’t completely understand. A few weeks ago it was Kermit the Frog singing Rainbow Connection.
More recently, another phrase has been playing in my mind:
“Make My Life an Alleluia.”
That is quite a prayer when you think about it.
Not simply, “Give me a song to sing.”
Not simply, “Give me something to believe.”
But make my life an alleluia.
Make the way I live, the way I love, the way I forgive, the way I serve, the way I treat my neighbor—make my whole life a song of praise to God.
Because an alleluia isn’t meant only to be something we sing in worship. It is meant to become something we live.
That gets to the heart of what it means to be the church.
Christ calls us to be a people centered on Jesus. A people shaped by grace. A people growing together in faith. A people who recognize that each of us has gifts to offer and a place in the body. A people learning to love and serve as the body of Christ.
Paul gives us that picture in Ephesians 4:15–16: a body growing together, each part doing its share, until the whole body is growing into Christ and building itself up in love.
And that raises an important question:
What is Christ forming us for?
We want meaningful worship, strong ministries, people using their gifts, children and youth growing in faith, and new people finding a place in Christian community.
Those things matter.
But they are not the destination.
Jesus never intended the church to exist simply for itself.
The church is formed by Christ because the church is sent by Christ.
And that brings us to a mountain in Galilee.
The tomb is empty. Jesus has been raised. The disciples have gone where Jesus told them to meet him.
These are people who followed Jesus and learned from Jesus. They also misunderstood Jesus. They failed Jesus. When everything fell apart, they ran away (Matthew 26:56).
And yet these are the people Jesus calls to the mountain.
Before Matthew brings his Gospel to an end, the risen Jesus tells them—and us—what comes next.
Matthew 28:16–20
Still Becoming Disciples
There is a remarkable detail in Matthew’s account of the disciples standing on that mountain:
“When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted.” (Matthew 28:17)
They worshiped.
And they doubted.
And Jesus sent them anyway.
Jesus doesn’t say, “Come back when you have everything figured out.” Jesus doesn’t wait until their faith is perfect, their questions are gone, and they finally understand everything he has been trying to teach them.
Jesus entrusts his mission to disciples who are still becoming disciples.
That sounds a lot like the church.
We worship, and sometimes we question.
We trust, and sometimes we struggle.
We follow Jesus, and sometimes we stumble.
Christ is still forming us. And these are the people Jesus sends into the world.
Not perfect disciples.
Disciples who are still learning to follow.
Come Follow Jesus With Us
So what exactly does Jesus send these disciples to do?
We usually call these words the Great Commission, and our attention often goes immediately to that first word: Go.
But the heart of Jesus’ command is make disciples.
Jesus does not say, “Go get more people.”
Jesus does not say, “Go fill some pews.”
Jesus says:
“Go therefore and make disciples of all nations.” (Matthew 28:19)
And Jesus tells us what that involves:
“Baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” (Matthew 28:19)
And:
“Teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you.” (Matthew 28:20)
Everything I have commanded you.
Matthew has spent an entire Gospel showing us what that looks like.
Love your enemies (Matthew 5:43–48).
Forgive (Matthew 6:14–15; 18:21–35).
Seek first God’s kingdom (Matthew 6:33).
Care for those others overlook (Matthew 25:31–40).
Reconcile with one another (Matthew 5:23–24; 18:15–20).
Serve rather than seek greatness (Matthew 20:25–28).
Love God and love your neighbor (Matthew 22:34–40).
Take up your cross and follow (Matthew 16:24–25).
So making disciples isn’t simply passing along information about Jesus.
It is helping people learn the way of Jesus.
That is much bigger than getting someone through the doors of a church.
Of course, churches want people to become part of their communities. We want congregations to grow. We want people to find places where they are known, loved, challenged, and supported in faith.
But getting someone into a pew is not the same thing as making a disciple.
A disciple is someone learning to follow Jesus.
And we don’t stand before the world as people who have Jesus figured out. We are still learning too.
Still learning to forgive.
Still learning to love.
Still learning to trust.
Still learning to serve.
So somewhere along the journey, we turn toward another person and say:
“Come follow Jesus with us.”
Not because we have all the answers.
Not because we’ve gotten everything right.
Come walk with us.
Learn with us.
Serve with us.
Grow with us.
Follow Jesus alongside us.
Because making disciples grows out of being disciples.
Make Our Life an Alleluia
And we don’t learn that life alone.
We learn it together.
“Make my life an alleluia” is a beautiful prayer.
But perhaps the church needs to change one word:
Make our life an alleluia.
Following Jesus is deeply personal, but it was never meant to be private.
Paul describes one body with many different people and many different gifts, growing together and building itself up in love (Ephesians 4:11–16; 1 Corinthians 12:12–27).
And that means people don’t only hear what Christians say about Jesus.
They see what following Jesus is doing among us.
They see how we treat one another.
They see whether there is room at the table.
They see how we respond when we disagree.
They see whether we notice the person who is hurting.
They see whether the grace we proclaim on Sunday becomes grace we practice on Monday.
Our life together says something about the Jesus we invite people to follow.
That doesn’t mean we have to be a perfect church.
Those people on the mountain certainly weren’t.
Neither are we.
But even while Christ is forming us, our life together can point beyond us to Christ.
When someone is welcomed, our life can say:
There is room for you.
When someone is hurting and discovers they don’t have to carry it alone, our life can say:
You are not alone.
When someone makes a mistake and encounters grace, our life can say:
Grace is real.
That is an alleluia the world can hear even when no one is singing.
I Am With You Always
To make our life an alleluia is a beautiful calling.
It is also a big one.
And we could hear all of this and think, “The church has a lot of work to do.”
We do.
But if that is all we hear, we have missed the final words of Jesus.
Jesus does not end with a command.
Jesus ends with a promise:
“And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” (Matthew 28:20)
Those words take us all the way back to the beginning of Matthew.
Before Jesus was born, Matthew told us:
“They shall name him Emmanuel,” which means, “God is with us.” (Matthew 1:23)
Matthew begins the Gospel with God with us.
Matthew ends the Gospel with I am with you.
And everything Jesus asks of his disciples stands between those two promises.
The future of the church does not finally depend upon how capable we are.
It doesn’t depend upon whether we have enough people, enough money, all the right programs, or all the answers.
The future of the church belongs to Jesus Christ.
The same Christ who calls us is with us.
The same Christ who forms us is with us.
The same Christ who sends us is with us.
We do not have to have the future figured out before we faithfully step into it.
We begin where we are.
We use the gifts God has already placed among us (Romans 12:4–8).
We love the people God has already placed around us (Matthew 22:37–40).
We keep learning to follow Jesus.
We invite others to follow Jesus alongside us.
And we trust the promise of the risen Christ:
“I am with you always.” (Matthew 28:20)
We are sent. But we are never sent alone.
Through the Doors
Every worship service eventually ends.
A final hymn is sung. A blessing is given. People gather their things, get up from their seats, and walk through the doors.
But walking through those doors does not mean worship is over.
It means we are being sent.
Sent back to our homes, our work, our schools, our neighborhoods, our friends, and the people whose stories we have not yet heard.
We go as disciples still learning to follow Jesus.
We go carrying the grace we have received.
We go looking for opportunities to serve, listen, forgive, encourage, and love.
And along the way, we invite others to follow Jesus alongside us.
That is what Christ has been forming us for.
Not simply to come to church.
Not simply to keep a church going.
But to be the church—the body of Christ alive in the world (1 Corinthians 12:27).
So when we walk through the doors, our prayer continues:
Make my life an alleluia.
Make our life an alleluia.
May the life we share inside the church become good news beyond its walls.
May the grace we have received become grace we freely share.
And wherever Christ sends us, may we remember:
“I am with you always.” (Matthew 28:20)
We have been formed. Now we are sent. And Christ goes with us.
