Generosity is Who You Are in Christ

26 May

Luke 18:9-17

I want to start with a question. And I want you to be honest — not church honest. Actually honest. When you're generous with your money, your time, your friendship, your energy, what runs through your head first? Is it that you really want to? That you probably should? That you've done pretty well this week so you can afford it? Or maybe, quietly, that if people only knew how much you actually give?

Luke 18 speaks directly to that question — and my prayer is that something in us shifts. Not to guilt trip you into giving more. But because I want us to reorientate at the level of our identity in Christ. Not just our behaviour. Our identity.

The Pharisee Was Actually Impressive

Here's something we miss when we read this parable with modern eyes. The Pharisee was genuinely good. By any standard of his day, this man was spiritually serious. He fasted twice a week — one day was the requirement, two was above and beyond. He tithed ten percent of everything. He was devout, disciplined, and visibly committed.

In a modern church context it might sound like this: he set up his direct giving six years ago and it's still going. He does intermittent fasting for spiritual and health benefits. He's on three rosters and two leadership teams. We'd hold him up as an example. We'd say this guy is crushing it spiritually.

And yet listen to his prayer. "God, I thank you that I am not like other people — robbers, evildoers, adulterers, or even like this tax collector." This is not really a prayer to God at all. It's a performance review he wrote himself and marked with a pass. A mirror he's praying at that reflects back exactly what he wants to see. God is barely in the room. And everyone around him is held in contempt. The tax collector standing nearby is just a convenient contrast to make himself look better.

The Tax Collector Had Nothing

The tax collector, on the other hand, had no spiritual CV to present. These guys were despised — Jewish men working for Rome, collecting taxes from their own people and skimming extra off the top. Traitors by definition. Nobody was defending them.

This man stood at a distance. Wouldn't even lift his eyes toward heaven. Beat his chest. And said seven words: God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

That phrase, “have mercy on me”, carries the weight of the whole sacrificial system. He's not just asking for kindness. He's asking for atonement. He's saying: let the sacrifice count for me. I bring nothing to this. I am nothing. I throw myself entirely at your mercy.

And Jesus says this man went home justified. Right with God. Not the Pharisee.

Why?

The tax collector didn't go home justified because humility is a virtue God rewards. He didn't earn God's favour by being broken enough. He received it because he stopped pretending he could earn it. He stopped pretending he wasn't broken. He stopped pretending he could do it himself.

That's the difference. The Pharisee's hands were full — full of fasting records, giving receipts, spiritual achievements. You cannot receive when your hands are already full. He came to God saying, look at everything I've brought you. The tax collector came with empty hands and open arms.

Then there's this moment in verse 15 where people are bringing babies to Jesus and the disciples are waving them off. Jesus is too important for that. Children are vulnerable, dependent, can't contribute to the mortgage or the electricity bill or to many other things we measure. But Jesus says: let them come. The kingdom belongs to such as these. Anyone who won't receive the kingdom like a little child will never enter it.

A child's relationship with a parent is entirely one of receiving. No bargaining chips, no negotiating position. Just open, trusting, unashamed receiving. That's the posture Jesus is after.

So What?

Generosity is not fundamentally a financial practice. It's not a time practice or an energy practice. It is a spiritual identity. And it flows from one place: understanding how much you've been given.

I had a conversation recently about why we spend time in the harder parts of the Old Testament. Why do we sit in passages about God's anger and judgment and all the rest of it? Here's why: you will never truly know how much God loves you until you understand how much God hates sin. Read the Old Testament to understand that. Then read the New Testament. That's what shows you the true cost of what you've been given — and when that lands, it changes everything.

We will never truly understand how much God loves us until we understand how much God hates sin.

When you truly grasp what God has given you, something shifts. You become so full of mercy and grace that you want to give it away. And the more you give away, the more there is. You go back to God and say, I gave it all away. And he says: have some more. There's plenty. It will never run out.

In Practice

I want to be clear — I'm not telling you what to do. My prayer is that God, through his word and his Spirit, will show you how much has been given to you, and the rest will flow from there. But here are some things I've been thinking about.

Coffee here at Soul Revival is free. You don't have to pay for it, but you could.

Dinner here at Soul Revival is $7.

Direct giving is worth revisiting if you set it up years ago and haven't looked at it since.

There are people who come through our doors every week who don't know anyone — and you do.

There are ministry teams to serve on, and 47% are in those ministry teams (amazing by the standard of most churches).

There's a cleaning team that nobody knows about that just quietly shows up every week and keeps this place going.

The Gospel

The Pharisee couldn't receive because his hands were full. Jesus goes to the cross with empty hands — taking everything we deserve, clearing a debt we could never pay — so that we could go home justified. Not because of our performance. Because of what he has done.

That is the gospel. That is the Jesus we love and serve. And when that lands, generosity stops being something you have to work up. It becomes who you are in him.