Using My Talents Wisely

Whenever I think of stewardship, I think of the parable of the talents. We all know the story—once upon a time the master was going away on an extended vacation, and he gave three of his servants some of his talents to invest until he returned. One guy did really well. He was given five talents, and by the time the master came home, he had ten. Another guy did a pretty good job with the three talents he was given. He had double the amount by the time the master came back. And then there was that last guy. He received only one talent, and he was afraid he would lose it, so he buried it in the ground and did nothing. Boy, was the master mad at him when he came home.

One could argue all day about why the master gave the talents unequally to the various people. Did he know the guy who got one was just going to bury it? Likewise, did he know the person who got five was a hard-charger who was going to make the most of what he received?

Even Spiderman knows that much is expected from someone to whom much is given. Or, to put that into English: Get a lot, do a lot.

But neither of these points is the reason I think of the story of the talents when I think of stewardship. In the Bible, the word “talent” was a specific portion of money. I think, though, that the evolution of the word to mean a skill or an aptitude for something isn’t just a freak of semantics.

We all have been given at least one talent. Even the poorest among us can get our hands on some money now and then. Others of us have been blessed with a lot more than just a little bit of money. Either way, that is one talent.

If we think about it, we probably all have at least one more talent than just that money. Some of these other talents may be more plentiful to you than money is. A number of my talents run in the crafty way. I knit, crochet, sew, and do other forms of needle craft. I have some writing talents, in that I can turn a phrase on a page, I can edit till late in the night, and I can plot stories with the best of the breed. My years in the military have helped me build my talents in leadership, administration, planning, and execution. My years as a wife and mother have developed a number of talents in these areas, as well.

These are all talents God has given me, and the message to me is that God wants me to use these talents wisely and well, to the utmost of my ability, and that I should never forget where they came from. Thus, in addition to using them for my own benefit, I must use them to my Master’s benefit as well. When I do that, my talents multiply. If I don’t practice my talents—say, my singing and playing the piano, just as examples—they become hidden, and are no good to anybody, including God.

What are your talents? Has God given you one, or three, or five? What have you done lately to double your talents? And how many of these talents have you given back to God? I firmly believe God wants us to give of all our talents, to include that monetary talent, because by using the talents freely, they will grow and flourish. I encourage everyone to strive to be the one with ten talents when the master comes back.

Christine Cook

Five Loaves (and a couple of fish)

The Forward, Day by Day reading for Wednesday, October 17 (Luke 9:1-17), about the feeding of the five thousand, coupled with conversation in a Vestry meeting, inspired this meditation.

During the Vestry meditation (on Luke 3:11), that evening, the point made was that the Biblical standard of giving might actually be greater than the long accepted standard of ten percent. Perhaps the standard is equivalent to one day’s pay or about one sixth (1 Corinthians 16:2). It could be, as was mentioned in the Vestry discussion, as high as fifty percent (Luke 3:11) or one hundred percent (Mark 12:42-44).

So this got me thinking about the “boy here” in John’s story of the feeding of the five thousand. (Although the story appears in all four Gospels, only John mentions from whence the five loaves and two fish came.) Consider what he gave. Imagine the stewardship gift of the boy with the loaves and fishes.

It has been suggested that there was plenty of food at that gathering. Wise adults carried rations in case of just such a circumstance as being both hungry and far from a source of food. But would you, in those circumstances, reveal to Andrew or some other scruffy follower of an itinerant preacher, “Sure, I’ve got three granola bars and a flask of new wine” if you were asked for food? My inclination would be to think, “The food I’m packing will just barely feed me and my family. I sure don’t want to share it with four thousand, ninety-nine other guys and their families.”

But, with the innocence of a child, this young boy says, “Sure mister. But all I have is these five small loves and a couple of small fish I caught this morning.” What a gift.

A Jewish Midrash suggests that, although Moses did his part at the Red Sea, it took the faith of one man to walk into the water chest deep before God actually rolled the water back.

My theory – which may be heretical to some – is that the miracle was in this boy’s faith and his willingness to trust Jesus and his disciples enough to give them all his food. With his trust he provided the catalyst that motivated the others to share their food producing the abundance that allowed baskets of leftovers to be collected after all had eaten their fill.

During the Vestry meeting there was also a discussion of the financial situation at St. Clare’s. We are faced with a major cost increase for health insurance for our employees. To meet this increase we need a record stewardship pledge, and that is just to maintain our current level of services. Do we have the faith to step out, trusting in God, and give from our substance to make this miracle happen? Can we not only meet the health care requirements of The Episcopal Church for our wonderful staff, but also provide appropriate salary increases?

Who is willing to walk into the water, chest deep, with me?

Pete Ross

 

Take it off the Top!

Honor the Lord with your substance and with the first fruits of all your produce. Proverbs 3:9

The best thing I’ve heard about stewardship came from Beth Scriven. A few years ago our Disciple 1 class was discussing stewardship of our time and resources, and many of us expressed a feeling that we simply did not have enough of these things. Not enough for ourselves or our families, and certainly not enough to give as much as away as we wished we could.

Beth said something that I will never forget. She said, “Here’s how I do it. I take it off the top.” She explained that she figured out that in order to make time for fun things she has to do them first thing on her day off, before errands and chores stand in the way. Then, there is always enough time. She said pledging to the church works the same way– if her pledge is deducted automatically at the beginning of each month, she doesn’t miss it.

This idea has transformed the way that I think about stewardship in all aspects of my life. Rick and I have begun to use the “take it off the top” principle to plan our leisure: exercise, time together, time with friends: we strive to take it all off the top, and somehow the laundry still gets done. Similarly, E-Giving takes our pledge “off the top” at the beginning of each month, and what remains is enough. It is a very concrete way of beginning to live into the Biblical call to offer our first fruits to God, or as Pete put so well in the last posting, to honor God with our substance, not just our excess.

I do not pretend to be consistently successful at this, not even most of the time. Very often giving my first fruits to God requires grappling with the fear that there will not be enough left. This fear often keeps me from giving, even when I know that I will regret it.

When I do manage to take Beth’s very good advice, I am surprised again and again by the abundance that is returned to me. Being more intentional about the way I spend my leisure has been good for body and soul, making me a better spouse and a more effective social worker. Committing more of my time and resources to our church community has yielded a stronger faith and abiding relationships. Suddenly, what’s left after I have given off the top is not simply enough, it is more.

 Liz Rodems

One Stewardship Journey

When we were married, we had an agreement that we would go to church every Sunday. That agreement cost me my job (at a local radio station) when I was called, the first Sunday after our marriage, into work. An agreement is an agreement. So we lived on one meager salary for a while, until I could find another job.

Several weeks after the job loss the annual stewardship campaign began at our small, western Michigan church. I felt an obligation to give back to this little group something for what I received in fellowship and inclusion. We discussed our situation and found ourselves in a quandary. We had no disposable income. I talked to the pastor and asked what I could do. “Rake leaves,” he said. So I raked.

And raked. And raked. And raked until it felt as if my arms were going to fall off (and, in those days, as a volunteer fireman, I was in pretty good shape). Finally, with a huge pile of leaves at the edge of the road, I quit raking. “There has to be a better way,” I thought.

My October discomfort continued through several years of completing a degree, job-hunting, and early, low paying employment. We were able, by then to contribute some funds to our church, but certainly not what I thought was expected. So, each fall, I squirmed in my seat during the annual stewardship campaign.

With two salaries, we finally began to find some disposable income. We had moved into a small house in a Detroit suburb, and were able to buy some functional furniture. But our church was the last on the list and often underfunded.

We went on a weekend religious retreat. The final presentation on the weekend made the point that our experience was already paid for by those who had attended previous retreats. We were encouraged to give from our substance, not from the excess, because if we gave from our substance, as time passed and we would be reminded, when we were unable to afford something we wanted, of our gift and the reason for our gift. It had been a very inspiring retreat and we decided to step out in faith and give – from our substance.

Surprisingly, there were not many times when that gift from what we thought was substance actually limited our ability to meet our needs. That fall the revelation inspired us to talk about proportional giving to our church. We decided to set a percentage of our gross income that we would dedicate to our pledge. We started modestly at three percent, but we committed to increasing that one percent each year.

The truth is, we were not very good at keeping our commitment to increase our pledge by a percent each year, but we did, eventually, achieve our goal of ten percent. I have not regretted that decision and occasionally, for special reasons, we have significantly exceeded ten percent – especially during the second capital campaign to pay off the mortgage on the “new” sanctuary.

The most significant benefit of the decision, though, is the knowledge that we are supporting the worship community we love and that loves us. It is a joyful feeling, now, each fall, to fill out our pledge card and it sure beats raking an eight-foot-high pile of maple leaves to the edge of the road.

Pete Ross

“We walk by faith, not by sight”

II Corinthians 5:7

On Monday, I attended Ben Carson’s funeral. There were more people than there were prayer books – such was the impact he had on the world – and we made the runs back and forth to the sacristy to try and furnish everyone appropriately. I’d grabbed a few more, and was waiting for the reading to end before walking out again. And as I listened I couldn’t make out everything, but the phrase I heard was “For we walk by faith, not by sight.”

I’ve never been at a memorial service like Ben’s. I’ve never experienced another person’s faith before the way I did when Doug Carson spoke about his son. And I’m still letting God work those words into me, because I don’t know yet why I was there to hear them, and what he wants me to do. But that phrase from Paul’s Second Letter to the Corinthians has been playing itself over in my head to the extent that I at least know I’m called to write this.

“For we walk by faith, not by sight.” Do I really walk by faith? Most of the time it seems I walk in the sight of my to-do list, or the sight of my possessions, or what other people think of me. Most of the time I’m looking for some external validation of who I am, some reassurance that I’m doing the right thing, with the weird rationalization perhaps that if I can see it, God can see it!

The funny thing is, when I have the wherewithal to reflect on my life and its blessings, the really huge ones I recall are those that came totally out of the blue. With no explanation. God-given blessings, where God had faith in me. Given by faith, not by sight.

And that’s how God loves, right? It still doesn’t make sense to me all the time, and I don’t think it’s supposed to – but God doesn’t love us based on our achievements (or what we think they’re worth). And stewardship isn’t another thing to add to the list of the things we showed up for, or volunteered at, or contributed to over the year. Because God isn’t about what you do, how much, and how often. Just about the how. The challenge he longs for us to take up is to trust him. I have often felt that trust isn’t earned, but rather given. Trusting God – really trusting God – means walking by faith and not by sight. One gift, regardless of its size or scope, given with compassion towards ourselves and others and to the glory of God, is like the lost sheep or the lost coin. It’s worth everything to Him.

We’re all on our own journey with God. It’s not a race and it’s not a competition. And while our experiences are our own, the joy of our faith is that they’re ours to share with one another – when we find it harder to feel God’s presence in our lives, we have each other to remind us that we are not alone and He is with us. So I’m asking you to find one gift today, with compassion for God within you and God in all of us. Whatever that means to you – again it’s not the what, it’s the how that counts. And be gentle with yourself. It’s not about perfection – it’s about the practice.

Imogen Howes