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Rooted in Generosity
It always happened at the same time. Between the weekly tic-tac-toe tournaments my brother and I waged during the sermon and the bright organ chords that called the deacons to the chancel, my parents would quietly slip us each a dollar bill to place in the smooth wooden offering bowls as they passed us by.
And that’s the extent of the childhood conversations I remember about giving to the church.
I’m sure my parents valued generosity. They placed their own check in the same bowl every Sunday, and they encouraged us to give for the sake of those who had less than we did. And yet, by the time I was ordained, I still didn’t feel like I had the words to articulate why giving mattered—to God or to myself.
That changed in my first call—a multi-staff church in Kansas City, MO—where we typically crafted just one part of the liturgy each week. Being assigned the invitation to offering finally forced me to find and finesse the words that reflected my own theology of giving. (And ideally, those words would also inspire the people in the pews to part with their dollars and checks!)
Over time, my roles and responsibilities shifted, and soon I was preaching more Sundays than I was extending the offering invitation.
I wasn’t off the hook, though.
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