Some lessons come hard. They are pried from our clenched fingers by grace. Other lessons come more gently, like a whisper riding the wind.
The practice of generosity, of giving freely without gripping the ledge of our own fears of scarcity, often falls somewhere between the two.
We are invited to give freely not because God needs our resources but because the act of that surrender recalibrates our hearts, reorients our desires, and reminds us that all we have (or don’t have) is a gift from something beyond ourselves in the first place.
It is tempting to think of our call to give with an open hand as purely financial, but giving is not merely about money. It’s about our heart (Matthew 19:16-22). It’s about loosening our grasp, releasing our need for control, and stepping into a wild trust of Kingdom economics exemplified by the widow’s mite (Mark 12:41-44).
Seasons of Scarcity, Seasons of Plenty
As we walk through life, there will be seasons when our hands are full, and giving feels like a joyous overflow. But there are other seasons—lean and uncertain—where every dollar and minute given feels like a leap into financial darkness, not only unsafe but perhaps even unwise.
The Apostle Paul knew both seasons well. “I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength” (Philippians 4:12-13).
Our fear and desire for a feeling of security is not an excuse to withhold generosity in times of scarcity. Nor is our own sense of security an invitation to guilt others into giving what we feel is appropriate during our seasons of plenty.
Instead, both should be a reminder that our ability to give has never depended on what is in our hands but on the Creator who fills them according to his will.
When we give from a posture of trust and obedience, we participate in a divine economy where provision flows not from our hoarding or empire-wisdom but from our willingness to be conduits of grace and abundance.
Listening to the Nudge
Obedience often defies reason.
This is a hard truth, especially for those of us who appreciate our ducks in neat, easily counted rows. Yet time and again, scripture testifies to the ways God invites His people to give beyond what would be considered wise and prudent.
Elijah, during a time of famine, approached a widow in Zarephath and asked for food. She had only enough flour and oil for a final meal for herself and her son. Yet at the prophet’s word, she gave fully and freely, and in return, “... the jar of flour was not used up and the jug of oil did not run dry” (1 Kings 17:14).
She gave not from abundance but from trust. And trust, as seen throughout scripture, is never misplaced when directed toward God.
St. John Chrysostom, perhaps the great preacher of the early church, once said, “If you have much, give of your abundance; if you have little, do not be afraid to give even of that little. For you are not poorer than the widow.”
Our giving with an open hand is not about the sum. It is about the heart that gives it. When God calls us to give, He is not measuring the number but the posture.
The Security Illusion
Fear of scarcity is often a greater hindrance to generosity than actual scarcity.
We too often believe that what we have is ours to safeguard because we have earned it. We labor under the illusion that our security rests in bank accounts and savings plans. Scripture reminds us otherwise at every turn.
Jesus speaks plainly in the Sermon on the Mount: “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven … For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Matthew 6:19-21).
St. Aidan of Lindisfarne, known for his radical generosity, embodied this truth. He refused to own property, giving away gifts and money as quickly as they were placed in his hands. In his spirit, clinging to wealth was an obstacle to faith, a weight that kept one tethered to earth rather than soaring toward heaven.
Do not misunderstand me. This is not to say that financial stewardship is unwise or unwarranted. What I mean is that when the Spirit nudges, we must hold our plans loosely and allow our hands (and our wallets) to fall open in sacrifice and obedience.
Security in the Kingdom of God is not about stockpiling resources but about being willing to trust that God is a provider who never fails His people, those who are in a season where they are in a position to bless or those in a season where they need a blessing–both are the same in the eyes of the Creator.
The Generous God We Reflect
At its core, giving is an act of divine imitation.
We give because God gives.
We give fully because God gives fully.
We give out of abundance because God is abundance.
The whole of scripture reveals a God whose nature is generosity itself. “Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights” (James 1:17).
From the breath in our lungs to the daily bread on our tables, all we have is an outpouring of divine love and generosity.
The Desert Fathers understood this deeply.
Abba Poemen once said, “If someone asks you for something, and you give it to him, you too will receive from God.” This should not be seen as transactional–to do so cheapens the act of giving itself–but as a participation in the deeper conversation of life.
When we give, we step into the very heartbeat and breath of God—an unceasing rhythm of grace, a cascade of provision and goodness that never dries up because it is the very building blocks of what we are created from.
Giving Beyond Money
When we talk about giving, we are too often only focused on monetary gifts. This is mostly likely because in an age of empire still so strong, money is seen as the most powerful resource at our disposal.
But financial generosity is only one form of giving.
Many of us, in times of financial strain, still have so much to offer–time, presence, encouragement, a shared meal, a listening ear—these, too, are gifts of great worth, perhaps even more valuable than money in the economy of the Kingdom.
Celtic Christianity, with its deep reverence for community, understood this well. Hospitality was considered a sacred duty, an act of worship. “Christ is the guest at every meal,” they would say, recognizing that in welcoming another, one welcomed Christ Himself (Matthew 25:35-40).
What if we embraced this vision of giving?
What if our generosity spilled over not just from our wallets and investment accounts but from the way we open our homes, our schedules, and our lives?
The Invitation
We will all face seasons where giving feels easy and seasons where it requires a trembling, “Yes.” The call remains the same: to give with an open hand, trusting that the Creator who calls us is faithful to meet our needs.
So we listen. We pay attention to the Spirit’s nudge. We let go of our grip on our own ideas of security and lean into the abundance of a God who gives to us from a divine abundance.
In doing so, we find that generosity is not merely something we do—it is the very shape of the life we are invited to live.
I have found that the more I give to others, money, time, etc., the more God fills me in order to continue to give.