APPLE-CORE STEWARDSHIP

Two weeks ago friends took us to their favourite Greek restaurant in a little town twenty-five miles south of Birmingham. On the way home we passed a small church which had this quaint notice on its billboard: Next Sunday’s Sermon – “Apple-core Stewardship.”

I continued to think on this as we journeyed home. Ever the preacher, I asked myself, “’Apple-core Stewardship’ – however did the preacher come up with that topic?”

Then it occurred to me. What’s an apple-core after all? It’s the part of an apple left over after we’ve eaten the fleshy bit – that is, if we don’t eat the core as well. But assuming we don’t, the core is the chewed remnant that we throw away after we’ve savored the good stuff. And that, I’m guessing, is the idea that the preacher wanted to develop in his sermon. I’m sure his theme would have been something like, “Don’t give God the leftover’s this year when you make your financial commitment to the church.”

November, it appears is the time of year when churches in this part of the world have their annual stewardship drive. Church leaders share their vision, extol tithing, have people relate testimonies of how God has blessed their generous giving, and urge members to pledge their faith commitments. The outcome is some indication of what the church can expect in the way of regular income for the year ahead.

Briarwood Church recently devoted a Sunday to making their annual stewardship appeal. In the course of the morning service I found myself asking, “Lord, how much do you want me to devote to you this coming year?” Instantaneously the thought flashed through my mind, “Everything.” And I knew that was exactly the right answer.

So often when it comes to the matter of Christian giving we think in terms of how much of what belongs to us we will give to someone or something else. But that’s hardly a Christian way of looking at things. For the reality is that when we come to Christ all that we are and have belongs to him. We are no longer our own, but as Paul reminded the Corinthian believers, we have been bought with a price (1 Cor. 6:19, 20). Our response to that is to be one of “glorifying God” with all that we have. From a truly Christian perspective, then, all that I possess is not, strictly speaking mine to dispose of as I choose. Not even my time and talents are my own to use as I decide. They all belong to Christ “whose I am and whom I serve.” And as such, they are all to be devoted to him.

That doesn’t mean, of course, that everything I have is to be pledged to the church when it comes time to make a faith promise on the annual stewardship Sunday. But it does mean that I exercise true stewardship of what has been entrusted to me. I am Christ’s steward now, and I have to make wise and godly decisions about everything I have. That doesn’t rule out apportioning money for food, recreation and even for retirement. But it does mean that I hold it all lightly, and use it as best I can for his glory.

Machinery magnate R.G. le Tourneau learned this lesson well. In the very early days of his business career God showed him that it was through his grace that he had the talents that eventually enabled him to become a multi-millionaire. It wasn’t easy at first for le Tourneau to act as a steward of his hard-earned cash, but as the years passed he saw increasingly how God could and did entrust him with more wealth as he used what he had wisely. Toward the end of his life, when he was giving millions each year to missions, he made the comment, “It’s not about how much of mine I give God, but how much of his I keep for myself.”

That’s the true spirit of stewardship. And it is certainly not the miserly spirit of “apple-core” stewardship.