“You’re giving your money away. Do you think it grows on trees?”

Have you ever been scolded for spending your money the wrong way? I remember the cowboy boots I wanted when I was about ten. It was in the middle of the “Dukes of Hazard” years. I begged, and begged, and begged for these boots. I promised to wear them every day. I wore them once. My feet had never hurt that much. Then they became the big embarrassment of my closet. It was the first time I can remember feeling the pangs of a bad choice. My parents knew I wouldn’t really wear them. They tried to tell me. I knew they didn’t really want to buy them for me – but I must have been a real pain about it because they finally gave in. And for some time, I felt a lot of guilt for money wasted on those stupid boots.

Now, looking back, my Dad got the boots for me at a PayLess – not exactly an extravagant expenditure lost. I’ve done much worse on my own since then. I hate it every time. Every time I’m duped by something that I think I have to have – but then don’t really have to have – it bothers me, still. I’m a bit of a penny-pincher that way, but that’s when it comes to the marketplace. The stuff, the gobs and gobs of stuff that we think we need to spend our money on, in the end turns to dust. We are taught to think money is precisely for the accumulation of such things – but I don’t really buy that anymore. Deep down I know that ultimately my precious books will either get a second life at Mr. K’s or end up in the recycle bin. The clothes in my closet will one day go to Goodwill or the Salvation Army if they don’t wear out first. Even the furniture, the car, and the house that I love have a limited life span on this planet. I could continue to worry and fret about the bad choices verses the good, but on this level it’s only about things, and even my coolest things are never as important as the people in my life.

Randy Pausch was the Carnegie Mellon Professor who recently became famous for the wisdom he imparted through his “Last Lectures” he wrote and delivered as he was dying from cancer. In that series, now a book, he tells his own story about how people are always more important than things. For a long time, his identity was wrapped up in being the “bachelor uncle.” In his 20’s and 30’s he had no kids and enjoyed spending time with his niece and nephew, Laura and Chris. During one particular visit, he showed up in his new car – a convertible Volkswagen. To which, his sister admonished the kids, “Be careful in Uncle Randy’s new car. Wipe your feet before you get in. Don’t mess anything up. Don’t get it dirty.”

With an uncle’s outside perspective, Randy was pretty insightful and realized that kids can’t help but get a car dirty. His sister was setting them up for failure. So he decided to make things easy. While his sister was busy telling them the rules, he slowly and deliberately opened a can of soda, turned it over, and poured it on the cloth seats in the back of the convertible. He talks later about being so glad to have spilled that soda – because later in the week - when Chris got the flu and threw up all over the back seat, he ended up not feeling horribly guilty about it. (The Last Lecture, Randy Pausch, p. 69-70)

If only all of us could have an Uncle Randy early enough in our lives to teach us the real meaning of having a generous spirit. It is amazing how badly we get things cobbled up. We get it backwards and worry more about our stuff than we worry about our connections to others. In fact, such generosity is often scolded as poor judgment somehow. Think about the woman who poured the perfume on Jesus’ feet. We read the Luke text today because it’s a little different from the other three gospels. You probably know the scolding that happens in the other three versions. Judas or someone at the party has to say, “Why wasn’t the perfume sold for what it was worth and the money given to the poor?” But in this instance, Jesus uses it as a life lesson to talk about our other debts – the debts we owe as sinners. We owe more to God than we can possibly ever pay, and yet God welcomes our gifts – especially our gifts of hospitality. Luke’s version of this story is all about how the woman can’t stop giving of herself to Jesus. She bathes his feet with her tears, kisses him, and anoints him with fragrant oil. The stingy Pharisee has shown little of this hospitality, but she has gone crazy overboard. Her generosity is scandalous, wasteful, embarrassing. How could she be so uncivilized and so vulnerable? How could Jesus, the holy and righteous one, let her do this to him?

The story of the sinful woman at the Pharisees house is one of my favorites. It moves me every time I hear it – especially from Luke. I think that the generously lived life is particularly important to living the spiritually good life. I want to be her – but sometimes I can’t let myself go that much. I need a few stepping stones along the way. I need help to let go of control, security, and that sense of being socially accepted in the culture that I belong. I still cling to a good deal of my stuff and give my own kids too many rules about taking care of theirs.

Sometimes I have to start somewhere else in scripture to begin to inch closer to that giving spirit. So let’s start with Paul. Paul is trying to build communities of the spiritually generous along his church planting route. He asks Titus to be his partner and co-worker in this endeavor, and he expects the congregations to help Titus along the way so that he always has a roof over his head and food in his stomach. I can sympathize somewhat with both Paul and this itinerate preacher. They are taking personal risks to be involved in the world of ministry. It’s always been soft money, by the world’s standards. No one really “needs” a pastor or spiritual leader, at least not like they need food or shelter. Only a handful of those who are compelled to preach the gospel end up as the Senior Pastor of Mega-Church X where they get a mansion-sized housing allowance, a car, a hefty salary, and a time-share in the Bahamas as part of their perks. I don’t anticipate ever being quite in that situation, though I must say that comparatively, there are a large number of pastors out there who work just as hard as I do for a whole lot less.

Though I still feel some of that personal risk involved with being a professional minister, it really is the whole endeavor that Paul wants to lift up in this text. Ministry always involves risk. He’s asking the Corinthians to be generous with their gifts and not get so stuffy and blame Paul and Titus for being too generous with what they’ve been given. By the world’s standards, ministry has been and always will be a colossal waste of money. It’s money that’s poured into people, not things. You can’t always measure the results. You can’t track where it all goes. You pay spiritual leaders to do what – change people’s minds and hearts? To listen to God? To preach and visit? To answer emails and go to committee meetings? It’s a strange sort of endeavor – one that often precipitates blame. Pastors and Sessions get blamed for spending money on the “wrong things” all the time. At least I hope they are. At times, we should feel like we are taking the risk of ministry, being too generous, perhaps even doing something foolish or impossible with those gifts. It’s what God would have us do.

In our world, it’s totally irrational to give money away without expecting something in return. The concept of tithing – giving 10% of your income back to God doesn’t make much sense, but it does make a difference. What’s important is that we give to people, not to accumulate more things. It makes a difference that we have people like Paul and Titus dedicated to preaching the Word. It makes a difference that we give so generously that it makes people uncomfortable. It reminds us that God values something other than what the world values. It reminds us that our bank balance is not important to God. God cancels our debts – even the biggest ones, and giving ourselves to others reminds us of how grateful we can be.

You, as a church community, probably don’t stop to think of just how generous you are. Perhaps being reminded of your generosity will help you strengthen that gift. Let’s think about some of those things we can do together.

In the world that says worship time is a waste of time, you offer a livable salary to the person who preaches the good news week after week, and you pay the musicians who give of their time and talents to help worship be meaningful for us all. You are that generous.

In a world that values certainty and security and says there is only one right answer, you provide educational venues that create an open space for people young and old who ponder over the ancient questions. You are that generous.

In a world that argues about whether health care is a right or a privilege, you have welcomed a parish nurse to care for and about this congregation and our surrounding community. You are that generous.

In a world that uses the best property for profit-making means, you have planted yourselves on a busy and visible corner and allowed the poor and the stranger to be your tenets. You gave Headstart a jubilee year, and allow ADFAC to expand its reach into our buildings so they can provide basic needs for our most troubled citizens. You give space to the Chinese Bible study that meets here on Friday nights. In spite of leaky roofs, dated fixtures, and an inoperable elevator, this place continues to be celebration headquarters for weddings and baby showers, and with limited kitchen facilities we feed our church family on Wednesday nights, and offer hungry teenagers their Friday lunch. You are that generous.

Look at how much you are giving away. You can probably think of more. The world would say, “That’s crazy!” But when people tell you just how crazy you are for giving money away, I hope that you’ll say, “Yes, at First Presbyterian Church that’s how we roll.”

Amen.