I have been asked to address the personal side of stewardship, and what St Andrew’s means to me. To begin, I think of stewardship as a discipline of giving that affects our spiritual lives just as it applies to the practical needs or our church.
Understanding the spiritual discipline of stewardship begins with reminding ourselves that nothing belongs to us. Not one thing. Not one person. Not even those closest to us. Deep in our hearts we realize that all things come from God, and as time goes on, we will gradually part with everything on this earth. We gain loved ones and possessions, but eventually we are parted from these things, and that is the bittersweet truth of our human lives. In Matthew, Jesus offers a clear response to this human predicament: “Do not store up treasures on earth” where they are subject to decay, but “store up your treasures in heaven,” where they are never lost.
How do we actually store up our treasures in heaven? We can begin by cultivating open, generous hearts that let go rather than cling. It is certainly good to give time, talent, and treasure, but that in itself is not the full measure of giving. We must also learn to use generosity to recognize our own individual capacities for compassion and love. I think this is what Paul meant when he said, “If I give away all of my possessions and hand over my body… but do not have love, I have nothing.” Generosity is giving with love, and the cultivation of generosity is how we move our hearts from earth to heaven. I think this openhearted generosity is a gift of grace we must nurture, practice, and develop.
It is clear that the cultivation of a generous heart connects directly to the practical needs of our church. When a generous heart is present, there are no losers as our spiritual lives are energized and our church flourishes. My wife and I joined St Andrew’s 35 years ago—like for many of you, St Andrew’s has helped give shape and meaning to our lives. We raised our children at this church. Our daughter was married on the same altar where she was baptized, and the ashes of both my brothers rest in the memorial garden.
One thought in which I take great comfort is the thought that when I am long gone, this church will still be here, and I do not want her to be diminished in any way. Rather, I imagine her many years from now filled with liturgy, music, and good teaching; nurturing her children and reaching beyond these walls to care for those in need. This promise of the future is a blessing to us now in this time of uncertainty and loss. For me this vision of the future is a symbol of profound hope and everlasting life.
So finally, even though my comments began with attention to individual spiritual practice, it is ultimately not about me, or you, or anyone individually—it is about us, collectively. So, let us come together with generous hearts and continue to build that strong, vibrant church of the future.
David Lilley
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