Tag Archives: Giving

You Can’t Out-Give God

When it comes to giving, many people seem to give God the leftovers. They get to services on Sunday morning and they look to see what cash they happen to have left in their wallet, then they decide how much of it they’ll need for later. It’s only after doing such that they decide to give what is left to God. Christians should not be like this.   Paul praised the churches of Macedonia for the way they gave (II Corinthians 8:1-5). All can learn from their example.

  • They gave liberally. They knew what was important: putting God first (see Matthew 6:33). They gave as much as they possibly could, even more than Paul thought they could possibly afford. Giving liberally means that they gave freely, in excess.
  • Secondly, they gave joyfully. Instead of feeling like it was something demanded of them or feeling like they were being guilted into it, they were happy to give (see II Corinthians 9:7).
  • They gave out of love. They gave with great joy because the money given was going to help brothers and sisters in need. This shows the amount of love that they had for their fellow Christians.
  • They gave out of their poverty. Like the widow who gave the two mites (all that she had), these Christians did not worry about using the money on themselves. They gave until it hurt, and then gave some more. There are those today who do their budget and after all the bills are paid, they look to see how much they’re going to give God. Giving to God should come first.

What is the result of their giving so freely and without putting themselves first? God sustained them, making sure they did not go without those things they needed. God bestowed blessings upon them (II Corinthians 8:1). No matter how much we give, God is able and ready to bless us above what we have given. Like king David said, “I have been young and now am old, yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread” (Psalm 37:25).

Compare yourselves to the Christians in Macedonia and see how you measure up.

-Bradley Cobb

Restoration Moments – A Lesson in Giving

You have only a dollar to your name–and no food to feed your family.  Then a man comes to your door, deeply in need, begging for help.  What do you do?

Today’s Restoration Moment comes from Memoirs of Abner Jones (by his son, A.D. Jones), which will appear in the upcoming Abner Jones: A Collection (Volume 2).  Enjoy!

How often I have heard the good old man relate this story, which, however, it might affect others, never failed to bring tears into his own eyes:

On Saturday morning, as I was sit­ting in my study, pondering the poverty of my condition, my wife came in with her accustom­ed inquiry of “well, Mr Jones, what shall we have for dinner?” Adding, “we have not a grain of meal,”—flour was out of the question—”nor a particle of meat of any kind in the house. Then the sugar is out, there is no butter, and in fact there is nothing to eat, and tomorrow is Sunday.”

So saying, she quit the room, leaving me in such a state of mind as may well be con­ceived, when I say that a solitary one dollar bank note was the only money I had on earth, and no prospect whatsoever appeared of getting any until the accustomed weekly contribution should be put in my hands. And what would a single dollar do at the prevailing high prices, towards feeding seven hungry mouths for two whole days? I saw no way of escape, and in the agony of spirit which may well be guessed, I lifted up my heart in supplication to Him who feedeth the ravens when they cry. And a sin­gular answer to my prayer I seemed speedily to attain.

I had just risen from my knees, when my wife again appeared at the door, all unconscious of the struggle which was going on within me, and ushered a gentleman into my study. His whole appearance was of that shabby genteel which betokens a broken-down gentleman.  And from the first moment of beholding him, I took him to my confidence as unfortunate but not debased. “Sir” said he, “I am a stranger to you, and you are utterly so to me, save that I once heard you preach in ______.”

My home is in that place—if indeed I may now claim a home. I sailed from that port nearly a year since, with all my earthly possessions, and embarked in a promising adventure. My ship fell into the hands of the enemy and I became a prisoner, my property of course became lawful plunder. After suffering many hardships and much indignity, I effected my escape on board a vessel bound to St. John. From that place to this I have worked my way along with incredible fatigue and pain. I have suffered much from hunger, cold and wet, and have slept many a night in the open woods. And here I am, in one word, Sir, penniless, and altogether too much worn down to proceed further without aid. I have friends in ________, to whom I am pressing on as fast as I can, and who will relieve my necessities when I reach them. I am an utter stranger in your town, and you are the only person I ever knew or saw in the whole place. I cannot beg, and I feel entirely reluc­tant to ask a loan of an utter stranger.”

Here was a struggle. I was poor, very poor; but here was one poorer than I. I had a hungry family to feed—so had he. And even more, a heart-breaking fact, his family was even now mourn­ing him as dead. I could hesitate no longer. I thrust my hand mechanically into my pocket, and pulling out my last dollar, which I pressed upon the unfortunate mariner—for he could hardly be persuaded to take it, when he knew how low my finances were,—I blessed him in God’s name, and he left me with no words of thanks; but I knew that, had I from a full purse bestowed a liberal sum, he could not have felt more grateful.

When he had gone, and absolute hunger for me and mine, stared me full in the face, I be­gan to doubt the propriety of my act in taking the very bread from my children’s mouths to feed a stranger. But it was now too late to repent. The last dollar was gone and my chil­dren must go dinnerless and supperless to bed. For myself I cared nothing, but how would my family bear this unusual fasting? I seized my hat and cane and rushed into the street to escape from my own thoughts, which had become too painful to endure. I knew not—cared not whither I should bend my steps.

As I walked moodily and mechanically on, thinking o’er all the bitterness of my situation, suddenly the thought came into my mind: — why should I despond? Have I ever gone hun­gry, even for a day—me and mine? Has not the Lord provided hitherto? And will he not in time to come? —in the present time?  I had scarcely concluded this soliloquy, when one of my neighbors, whom I knew to be a Universalist, and whom I had occasionally seen at our meetings—the members of his family came frequently—accosted me with, “good morning, Mr. Jones. I have been thinking for some time past that I ought to discharge a debt I owe you.

“I was not aware,” I replied, “that you had incur­red such an obligation.”

O, but I have,” said he, “my family goes occasionally to hear you preach, and once in a while I go myself. Now as the laborer is worthy of his hire, and as I wish no man to labor for me without pay, I beg you will accept this trifle as in part a liquidation of the debt.

The “trifle,” was a five dollar note, which I received with feelings that I will not mock by attempting to describe. I returned to my house, and after again falling on my knees, hum­bled under a sense of my lack of confidence in God, and grateful for his goodness to me, all unworthy as I felt myself to be; I sallied forth to the market, and soon came back ladened with the things necessary to our comfort.