Another Word for Stewardship

Sometimes I think there should be another word for "Stewardship".  It's always been the word we have used to describe the annual emphasis (usually in the fall) on giving financially usually to your local congregation.  Of course, in seminary, we learned that "stewardship" means something else -- it means taking care of something that belongs to Someone Else.  But still…..

We had the stewardship emphasis this past month, and we we did emphasize stewardship as taking care of the things that belong to God.  We did not emphasize our budget, but we prayed and we talked about giving and generosity, and how everything we have -- including our money -- really belongs to God.  We talked about giving as a spiritual discipline, like prayer.  And we planned a special Sunday -- today -- where we would have great music with the organ and the piano and guitar and choir, where we would receive our intentions and then celebrate with a special wonderful luncheon together.  But still…

I was talking with someone at the church during the week, about how we were planning this great event, with great music and great preaching and great food, and how I hoped a lot of people were able to come, and the person turned to me with great honesty and said, "Well, and then there are those who will intentionally stay away."

And even though I felt sad, I understood.  Part of it is that no one wants to talk about money, and there's nothing you can do about that.  And the word "stewardship" has this meaning that has connotations about being guilted and shaken down and provoked to "give more" to this institution that pays salaries and has to fix its building.  And then we get some money but it never seems like enough, so a feeling of failure pervades us.  But still….

Maybe we need a different word, one that somehow brings to our imagination all of the things we can do together, when we pool the resources that God has entrusted us with.  Maybe we need a different word, a word that brings to our imaginations the mission of God and all of the resources that God has given us, so that we can share it.  Maybe we need a different word, a word that makes us excited for the feast that we will share and the songs that we will sing, and the gifts that we will open -- gifts that we have given to one another.

Maybe we need another word, but what would it be?

Stewardship and Me

I've spent most of the past week at a conference, "Rethinking Stewardship Practices."  I wanted to go to this workshop partly because I want to be more comfortable about doing stewardship in my own congregation.  But I also went to the workshop because (I'll confess), stewardship and I have a sort of checkered relationship.  This may be a bad thing for a pastor to confess, but it's true.

I started off very seriously and earnestly, as a young adult, just out of college.  I was a pretty serious Christian back then; I went to church on Sunday and to various prayer meetings.  And I had really gotten the message about tithing.  I did tithe net, not gross, as I looked at my paycheck and just took ten percent of that every two weeks.  That's what I did.

My life was simple, though.  I did not own a car.  I had a modest student loan.  I bought a sofa bed from a department store and made payments on it until my federal tax refund came back and I could pay it off.  I did not have a major credit card. 

When I first got to Japan to begin my missionary work, I was paid in dollars, and I did send a tithe back to my home church during those first six months.  I was very embarrassed to hear that someone from our congregation actually got up and used me as an example during their annual stewardship drive. 

Things got more complicated when we started getting paid in yen.  We were cautioned that we shouldn't be too generous with our Japanese congregations, so that they would not get dependent on our offerings.  So, I didn't give very much.  And, to be honest, there were many beautiful things I was tempted to buy while I lived in Japan.  I gave in to temptation many times.  I came home with a LOT more than I left with.  a LOT more.

When I returned to the U.S., a lot of things happened, too complicated to go into here.  But I bought a car, which I probably couldn't afford on my salary.  I got an apartment (eventually).  I got a major credit card.  Life became more complicated.  My tithing habits had been long gone by then.  I found it very difficult to look at my check and just do the 10 percent math.  It seems like the rent, the insurance, the car payment, the credit card, and groceries (and oh yes, those unanticipated car repairs) took almost everything I made.  (I was not making a large salary.)

I had gotten my finances in order by the time I went to seminary, but afterwards, the high cost of my seminary loans was a wake up call.  Getting used to the discipline of putting something away for quarterly tax payments was a learning curve too.

As I said, stewardship and I have had a checkered history.  And even though I'm talking about giving to my church right now, I realize that my financial responsibility to my congregation is really only a small part of how I steward the whole life God has given me.  It's the work I do, how I use my time, the way I treat people.  It has to do with credit cards, and student loans, but it also to do wtih making time for conversation and prayer and making meals from scratch.

As I said, stewardship and I have had a checkered history.  I am generous and I am stingy, sometimes frugal and sometimes wasteful. 

A friend recently reminded me that stewardship really means, "our lives are not our own." 

Which, I think is good news, when I consider the alternatives....

Why I'm Depressed

Yesterday after church, I stopped at the local Large Chain Bookstore to use one of my gift cards, and when I opened up my small billfold, it seemed strangely light. I realized that I had a twenty dollar bill and a few ones and that they were no longer in my billfold. Also, one of my credit cards was missing. I went through my billfold and found everything else that was supposed to be there -- was there.

I felt strangely unsettled the rest of the day. I looked through a few pockets and an extra bag I carry and didn't find anything. I remembered as well a couple of odd things about my office at church -- when I returned to my office after church, the door was locked but ajar, and there was a stray quarter on my desk, and another on the floor. I thought that was odd.

This morning, I called the the credit card company, and they informed me that there was no activity on the card. So maybe I had just mislaid the money and the card. It's been known to happen.

At about 5:00, though, I got a phone call. Someone had used my card at a gas station. That's what they do nowadays. To buy gas, you don't need an I.D. or even a signature. So I cancelled the card, and now I'm depressed. I keep telling myself, it's just a little bit of money. And then another part of me says, yeah, but every little bit helps. And I also hear my mother's voice, saying, You should be more careful with your things. So, along with everything else, I also feel a deep sense of shame.

This isn't the first time this has happened to me. Not long after I moved here, someone stole my billfold (which at that time contained my checkbook) and actually used two checks at a grocery store. This was also at church, while I was at an evening meeting. Another time, I was attending a church dinner, and someone stole my entire purse. Someone found it later in a nearby park. And yet another time (actually Christmas Eve two years ago) my credit cards were stolen during the Sunday morning service. I got a call the day after Christmas from the fraud department. I hadn't even realized they were gone.

While on internship, my billfold was stolen one day at the church I worked at. At that time, my biggest worry was actually my Drivers License. The good news in that case was that the police found my billfold and I eventually got it back.

And lest you think that this is just a church thing, I never had one problem with theft in all the years I spent in rural South Dakota. I also never had a problem while in college or Seminary. Not one. I did have small amounts of money stolen from my purse sometimes when I worked at a small office in downtown Minneapolis.

It all goes back, though, to the 8th grade: that year, my parents gave me my allowance and my lunch money every week, and for a few weeks in a row, someone stole the money from my purse, until I learned my lesson. Seems in some ways, I still haven't.

I ask you, why can't I take better care of my things?