Why We Give and Why It Matters
Few things make Christians—including me at times—as tense as talking about money in church.
I’ve struggled with a whole range of emotions as I’ve wrestled with giving. Guilt. Inadequacy. Wariness. Suspicion. Defensiveness. Justification. Maybe you could add your own descriptors to that list. Those are mine.
Maybe you can identify with some of them, and if so, it’s understandable. Money is personal. It represents our work, plans, responsibilities, and often our sense of security. When someone talks about what we should do with it, it can feel as though they’re reaching into an area of life that belongs only to us.
Whenever I encounter one of these difficult subjects, I try to return to the Word—not simply to what I’ve been taught or what someone else has expected of me. I want to know, “How does God want me to live?”
It’s interesting that when Paul speaks about giving, he doesn’t begin with what the church needs from us. He begins with what God has already given to us.
Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 8:9:
“For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you by his poverty might become rich.”
Paul was encouraging the Corinthian church to give generously, but notice where he began. He didn’t begin with a percentage. He didn’t begin with a budget crisis. He didn’t use guilt, embarrassment, or emotional manipulation.
He began with Jesus.
That has completely shifted the way I think about money and giving.
Before Paul asked them to consider what they might give, he reminded them of the Savior who had already given Himself.
Jesus was rich beyond anything we can imagine. His riches can’t be reduced to money. He possessed the glory of heaven, the worship of angels, authority over all creation, and perfect fellowship with the Father. He lacked nothing and needed nothing.
Yet for our sake, He became poor.
Jesus entered our broken world and took on flesh. He experienced hunger, exhaustion, rejection, sorrow, and pain. He lived without earthly wealth or political power. Then He went to the cross, where He bore our guilt and gave His life in the place of sinners.
The One who possessed everything willingly emptied Himself so that people who had nothing could become children of God.
Sit with that for a moment. It’s astonishing.
It’s in the midst of that astonishment that Christian generosity begins.
We don’t give so that God will love us. We give because, in Jesus, He’s already loved us at immeasurable cost.
We don’t give to repay Jesus. We could never repay Him, and He has never asked us to try. Grace isn’t a loan. The cross isn’t a bill waiting to be settled.
The bill has been paid in full.
We give because the grace of Jesus changes what we treasure.
Money offers us a kind of promise. It tells us that if we can earn enough, save enough, and keep enough, we’ll be safe. It promises comfort, control, independence, and protection from whatever may come next.
Money can be a useful tool, but it’s a terrible savior.
It can’t forgive our sins. It can’t reconcile us to God. It can’t sustain us through every season of suffering. It can’t conquer death or promise that we’ll never be abandoned.
Jesus can.
That’s why giving is about much more than funding ministries or paying church expenses. Giving is an act of worship. It’s one of the ways we declare that Jesus is more valuable than what we possess and more trustworthy than what we can store away.
When we give, we’re saying, “Everything I have comes from You. Everything I have belongs to You. My life isn’t held together by what I can keep. My life is held together by Christ.”
Now, that doesn’t mean giving is always easy.
For some people, generosity feels joyful and natural. For others, like me, giving exposes deep fear. Financial pressures, medical expenses, debt, and family responsibilities can make every decision feel heavy.
Jennifer often has to remind me of whom we serve and that my tight grip may be exposing something else my heart is tempted to trust.
Hear me on this: Scripture doesn’t dismiss those concerns. God isn’t indifferent to our needs, and He doesn’t call us to pretend that money doesn’t matter.
But He does invite us to ask where our confidence ultimately rests.
Paul later writes:
“Each one must give as he has decided in his heart, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver.” —2 Corinthians 9:7
Christian giving shouldn’t be coerced or produced by shame or manipulation. No one should be pressured into giving in order to prove that they’re faithful enough.
At the same time, Paul says giving should be decided. It should be prayerful and intentional.
Most of us won’t become generous accidentally. If we wait until every expense is paid, every desire is satisfied, and every fear is gone, there probably won’t be much left to give.
We have discovered that generosity requires us to make room now rather than punting it to some imagined point in the future when life is easier.
That may mean beginning with a consistent amount rather than waiting for an emotional moment. It may mean examining our spending and asking whether our habits reflect what we say we value. It may mean growing gradually, giving sacrificially, or learning to trust God in an area we’ve kept tightly controlled.
The goal isn’t to compare ourselves with anyone else. The question isn’t, “Am I giving as much as that person?”
The better question is, “Am I responding honestly and faithfully to the grace I’ve received?”
Our giving also allows us to participate in what God is doing through His church. When we give, we help create space for the gospel to be preached, children to be taught, struggling people to be cared for, missionaries to be sent, and neighbors to experience the love of Christ in tangible ways.
Don’t reduce giving to paying “church bills.” As a church family, we’re joining together in the mission of God.
So perhaps the question isn’t simply, “How much should I give?”
Perhaps we should also ask: What does my relationship with money reveal about where I look for security? Am I giving from gratitude, or am I resisting because I’m afraid there won’t be enough? Do I see generosity as something being taken from me, or as an opportunity to respond to the grace of Jesus?
Those questions aren’t meant to crush us. They’re invitations to bring our fears into the presence of a generous Savior.
You don’t have to cling desperately to everything you own, because Jesus has already given Himself for you, and in Him, you are securely held.
The Savior who gave Himself for us will not abandon us. Our security isn’t found in the size of our bank account, the stability of our circumstances, or our ability to control the future. Our security is found in the crucified and risen Jesus.
Generosity isn’t the price of belonging to Him. It’s one of the ways a heart begins to live freely after discovering that, in Christ, it already possesses a treasure that can never be taken away.
That’s why we give. That’s why it matters.
I’ve struggled with a whole range of emotions as I’ve wrestled with giving. Guilt. Inadequacy. Wariness. Suspicion. Defensiveness. Justification. Maybe you could add your own descriptors to that list. Those are mine.
Maybe you can identify with some of them, and if so, it’s understandable. Money is personal. It represents our work, plans, responsibilities, and often our sense of security. When someone talks about what we should do with it, it can feel as though they’re reaching into an area of life that belongs only to us.
Whenever I encounter one of these difficult subjects, I try to return to the Word—not simply to what I’ve been taught or what someone else has expected of me. I want to know, “How does God want me to live?”
It’s interesting that when Paul speaks about giving, he doesn’t begin with what the church needs from us. He begins with what God has already given to us.
Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 8:9:
“For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you by his poverty might become rich.”
Paul was encouraging the Corinthian church to give generously, but notice where he began. He didn’t begin with a percentage. He didn’t begin with a budget crisis. He didn’t use guilt, embarrassment, or emotional manipulation.
He began with Jesus.
That has completely shifted the way I think about money and giving.
Before Paul asked them to consider what they might give, he reminded them of the Savior who had already given Himself.
Jesus was rich beyond anything we can imagine. His riches can’t be reduced to money. He possessed the glory of heaven, the worship of angels, authority over all creation, and perfect fellowship with the Father. He lacked nothing and needed nothing.
Yet for our sake, He became poor.
Jesus entered our broken world and took on flesh. He experienced hunger, exhaustion, rejection, sorrow, and pain. He lived without earthly wealth or political power. Then He went to the cross, where He bore our guilt and gave His life in the place of sinners.
The One who possessed everything willingly emptied Himself so that people who had nothing could become children of God.
Sit with that for a moment. It’s astonishing.
It’s in the midst of that astonishment that Christian generosity begins.
We don’t give so that God will love us. We give because, in Jesus, He’s already loved us at immeasurable cost.
We don’t give to repay Jesus. We could never repay Him, and He has never asked us to try. Grace isn’t a loan. The cross isn’t a bill waiting to be settled.
The bill has been paid in full.
We give because the grace of Jesus changes what we treasure.
Money offers us a kind of promise. It tells us that if we can earn enough, save enough, and keep enough, we’ll be safe. It promises comfort, control, independence, and protection from whatever may come next.
Money can be a useful tool, but it’s a terrible savior.
It can’t forgive our sins. It can’t reconcile us to God. It can’t sustain us through every season of suffering. It can’t conquer death or promise that we’ll never be abandoned.
Jesus can.
That’s why giving is about much more than funding ministries or paying church expenses. Giving is an act of worship. It’s one of the ways we declare that Jesus is more valuable than what we possess and more trustworthy than what we can store away.
When we give, we’re saying, “Everything I have comes from You. Everything I have belongs to You. My life isn’t held together by what I can keep. My life is held together by Christ.”
Now, that doesn’t mean giving is always easy.
For some people, generosity feels joyful and natural. For others, like me, giving exposes deep fear. Financial pressures, medical expenses, debt, and family responsibilities can make every decision feel heavy.
Jennifer often has to remind me of whom we serve and that my tight grip may be exposing something else my heart is tempted to trust.
Hear me on this: Scripture doesn’t dismiss those concerns. God isn’t indifferent to our needs, and He doesn’t call us to pretend that money doesn’t matter.
But He does invite us to ask where our confidence ultimately rests.
Paul later writes:
“Each one must give as he has decided in his heart, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver.” —2 Corinthians 9:7
Christian giving shouldn’t be coerced or produced by shame or manipulation. No one should be pressured into giving in order to prove that they’re faithful enough.
At the same time, Paul says giving should be decided. It should be prayerful and intentional.
Most of us won’t become generous accidentally. If we wait until every expense is paid, every desire is satisfied, and every fear is gone, there probably won’t be much left to give.
We have discovered that generosity requires us to make room now rather than punting it to some imagined point in the future when life is easier.
That may mean beginning with a consistent amount rather than waiting for an emotional moment. It may mean examining our spending and asking whether our habits reflect what we say we value. It may mean growing gradually, giving sacrificially, or learning to trust God in an area we’ve kept tightly controlled.
The goal isn’t to compare ourselves with anyone else. The question isn’t, “Am I giving as much as that person?”
The better question is, “Am I responding honestly and faithfully to the grace I’ve received?”
Our giving also allows us to participate in what God is doing through His church. When we give, we help create space for the gospel to be preached, children to be taught, struggling people to be cared for, missionaries to be sent, and neighbors to experience the love of Christ in tangible ways.
Don’t reduce giving to paying “church bills.” As a church family, we’re joining together in the mission of God.
So perhaps the question isn’t simply, “How much should I give?”
Perhaps we should also ask: What does my relationship with money reveal about where I look for security? Am I giving from gratitude, or am I resisting because I’m afraid there won’t be enough? Do I see generosity as something being taken from me, or as an opportunity to respond to the grace of Jesus?
Those questions aren’t meant to crush us. They’re invitations to bring our fears into the presence of a generous Savior.
You don’t have to cling desperately to everything you own, because Jesus has already given Himself for you, and in Him, you are securely held.
The Savior who gave Himself for us will not abandon us. Our security isn’t found in the size of our bank account, the stability of our circumstances, or our ability to control the future. Our security is found in the crucified and risen Jesus.
Generosity isn’t the price of belonging to Him. It’s one of the ways a heart begins to live freely after discovering that, in Christ, it already possesses a treasure that can never be taken away.
That’s why we give. That’s why it matters.
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