Pastoral perspective (John T. McFadden)
I am suspicious when colleagues claim that they actually look forward to preaching the annual stewardship sermon. It is one thing to preach about economic justice and the proper use of the financial resources God entrusts to us—one can hardly preach in a manner faithful to the Scriptures without visiting these topics regularly—but it is hard, on Stewardship Sunday, not to feel more like a fundraiser than a preacher, presenting the case for the proposed church budget.
I suspect that when the Christians of Corinth gathered for worship there was no six-foot thermometer indicating that they had already achieved 45 percent of their goal for the relief of the church in Jerusalem, no posters featuring heart-tugging pictures of widows and orphans. Terms we take for granted, like “budget goal,” would likely have caused Paul great offense. Yet he wrote these words conscious of tensions familiar to pastoral leaders today.
The restoration of his relationship with the Corinthian church, so badly broken earlier, was still a work in progress. His apostolic authority has been accepted, but it is one thing to have your authority acknowledged and another to win back trust and affection. Any pastor who has led worship knowing that certain members of the congregation are glaring at you with suspicion can appreciate Paul’s challenge. It is hard to ask for money when you know that not everyone is pleased with your leadership and that human beings are prone to voting with their wallets.
Paul was also bringing his version of “institutional goals” to this appeal. Certainly the needs of the Jerusalem Christians were real, but in Paul’s mind the fragile unity of Christ’s church hinged upon the success of this collection. Would there be one church for Jews, one for Gentiles, or would Christ’s body remain united? Practical concerns and spiritual ideals were deeply interwoven in his appeal, again bringing to mind the annual stewardship sermon.
Those of us who have ever felt a bit chagrined for warming up the congregation with a bit of flattery may find comfort when Paul does the same thing: “Now as you excel in everything …” (v. 7). Yet his words are honest and accurate: the Corinthians were a bright and talented bunch, passionately committed to excelling in all matters. This passion had a dark side: their penchant for spiritual one-upmanship that had led the community into division and chaos. Like a wise parent, Paul seeks to redirect their passion for excellence to a worthy purpose.
We are reminded that sound, caring pastoral leadership sees people both as they are and as they can be: even our flaws and weaknesses are precious to God, who can transform them to virtues and strengths. Striving for excellence is a Christian virtue only when “excellence” is properly defined.
This Paul does by insisting that excellence in financial stewardship is not defined by giving a sum large enough to earn naming rights for the new wing. Rather it begins with humble gratitude for God’s self-emptying in Christ—”For you know the generous act of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich…he became poor” (v. 9)—that prompts an eagerness to give in response. A year ago, Paul notes, many were not only setting money aside each week for the Jerusalem church, but filled with the desire to do so. Paul does not use the language so common in our churches about “honoring your pledges” but speaks instead of recapturing that eagerness to express gratitude to God. “For if the eagerness is there, the gift is acceptable according to what one has—not according to what one does not have” (v. 12). The larger gifts offered by the wealthier members of the community are not more “excellent” than the smaller gifts given by those of more modest means, for excellence in Christian giving is measured not in dollars but by the desire to give, which stems from gratitude to God.
In addition to expressing gratitude to God, Christians are called to give out of genuine love for their brothers and sisters. As Paul insists elsewhere, Christ died for all persons, not just those who have responded by placing their faith in him, so we are called to love all those who are beloved by our Savior. But fellow members of Christ’s body constitute a special category: if they live in need while we know abundance, the entire body is wounded.
Paul twice (vv. 13, 14) uses the phrase “fair balance,” asking the Corinthians to weigh their present abundance against the needs of the saints in Jerusalem. He does not ask the Corinthians to give so sacrificially that the equation becomes reversed (“I do not mean that there should be relief for others and pressure on you,” v. 13), but rather to be so claimed by charity that their deepest need is to share their abundance with brothers and sisters who are less materially blessed.
For the pastoral leader, this text serves to remind that we are called to be agents of transformation, and in no arena is this more challenging than in that of financial stewardship. Measuring worth and success through personal wealth and material possessions is not a modern invention (although one might fairly claim that we have taken its excesses to new heights); members of the comparatively affluent Gentile churches struggled with the same temptation to “give a little something” to those in need without compromising their own lifestyles, and were prone to measure their giving against their peers (“Did we give more to the relief offering than the Galatians did? Did our church make the ‘top five’ list?”). The task of pastoral leadership is to lead our congregations, from the crippling fear that if we share our abundance with others there will not be enough left for us, into joyous trust in the God who provides for all our needs. Paul concludes his appeal by recalling how God distributed the manna in the wilderness: “The one who had much did not have too much, and the one who had little did not have too little” (v. 15). Replacing fear with trust is the most challenging, and most rewarding, transformation of all.