Stewardship and the posture of the heart

There’s a story about a wealthy businessperson who attended church one Sunday and heard a sermon about humility and generosity. Moved by the message, he decided to give a large donation to the parish. As he walked out, he said to the priest, “Pastor, I just want you to know, God and I have an understanding – I give, and He blesses.” The pastor smiled and said gently, “That’s wonderful, but I wonder if God thinks He’s part of a deal.”

It’s easy to turn our stewardship – our giving, our praying, even our faith – into a kind of transaction. We want to be good, faithful, generous people. But sometimes, in the process, we forget why we give, who we give for, and what grace really looks like.

That is the heart of Jesus’ parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector in the Gospel of Luke. Luke tells us that Jesus says this parable to some “who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt.” It’s one of those uncomfortable passages where we would prefer to identify with the humble tax collector; yet if we’re honest, we probably have more in common with the Pharisee than we would like to admit.

Here we have two men praying in the temple. Both believe in God. Both make time for prayer. But Jesus points us not to what they are doing, but to how they are doing it – the posture of their hearts. The Pharisee stands tall, confident in his record. “I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.” By every outward measure, he is a good man – disciplined, generous, religiously observant. Yet Jesus shocks his listeners by saying that it is not the Pharisee but the tax collector – the sinner, the collaborator, the despised man – who goes home justified before God.

Why? Because the Pharisee’s stewardship begins and ends with himself. His giving and his moral record have become a means of self-congratulation. The tax collector, on the other hand, has nothing to boast about. His only prayer is for mercy. He recognizes his dependence on God and casts himself entirely on divine grace.

The Pharisee’s error is not that he gave, prayed or fasted; those are good and holy things. His error is that he turned them into evidence of superiority. His gratitude was not directed to God but to himself. He thanked God that he was not like other people. He used his stewardship as a mirror of self-righteousness instead of a window through which God’s mercy could shine.

How easily does this happen, even in our own lives? Stewardship campaigns can become occasions for pride rather than gratitude. We might compare our giving to others’ giving, our service to others’ service, our faithfulness to others’ failings. We can begin to imagine that what we do for God is what makes us acceptable to God. But the gospel reminds us that our standing before God has nothing to do with the size of our gift and everything to do with the posture of our hearts.

Henri Nouwen once said, “Fundraising is, primarily, a form of ministry. It is a way of announcing our vision and inviting other people into our mission.” Stewardship is exactly that: an invitation to participate in God’s abundance, not a plea born of anxiety. When we give, we are saying “yes” to God’s ongoing work in the world.

What does this look like to us today as we begin a new year? It begins with examining the posture of our hearts. Do we give from pride or from gratitude? Do we see stewardship as a task to complete or as a way of life? True stewardship is not seasonal; it is spiritual. It is defined not by a campaign but by a calling. Every act of generosity – whether money, time, attention or compassion – is a prayer of thanksgiving, a declaration that we belong to a God of abundance.