Christian maturity isn’t marked by how much we know or what we can get, it’s marked by how much we love and how much we give in light of how deeply we’ve been loved and how much we’ve been given.
Carey Nieuwhof
Church camp is our kids’ favorite week of summer. They love the wild games, late nights, and community of friends. Summer camp was a month after my son’s thirteenth birthday, and it was the first time all three of my kids would be gone at the same time, leaving the house to Terrell and me. You could say it was about to become our favorite week of summer too.
We lugged sleeping bags and duffle bags to the church early in the morning, hugged and kissed our kids enough times to embarrass them, and went out on a wonderful breakfast date at a restaurant they don’t like. We sat on the same side of the corner booth, took a selfie, and told the world how much we missed our kids.
On the way home Terrell’s phone rang. He put his hand over the phone and whispered, “It’s the painter.” I got excited. We had been on a waiting list for months to have the inside of our house painted by a contractor who gave us the best price. I had wanted to say good-bye to the builder-beige color for several years, and we had saved so that we could have it done professionally.
“Oh, you can come today? Really, right now? Hang on, let me ask my wife,” Terrell said.
I shook my head no as I thought about our plans for the day, all the furniture and wall décor that would have to be moved, and how chaotic the whole week would be. But my husband said, “Honey, he had a cancellation and has an extra crew and can get started on the house right now, or we will have to wait another month. I think we should do it. The kids are gone. How bad can it be?”
Less than an hour later our walls were bare, the furniture was in the middle of the living room covered in plastic, and I was confirming paint swatches as a crew worked upstairs to prep the rooms. We had painters in and out of our home all week. I loved the subtle gray walls and decided the chaos was definitely worth it.
When we picked up our kids from camp, we couldn’t wait to surprise them with their new room colors. They raced upstairs, and we heard squeals of delight. And then my son leaned over the balcony and said, “Hey, where’s my wallet?”
Terrell and I looked at each other, and that’s when I remembered Jon-Avery had his Christmas, birthday, and lawn-mowing money in his wallet—more than three hundred dollars—waiting to be deposited once he got home. I remembered seeing his bulging wallet on his desk, but I didn’t think to put it away when the work crew arrived at the house. We went upstairs to help him find it, searched the entire house, and made phone calls. It was gone, along with his pocketknife. Even all these years later, that leather wallet has never shown up.
We could only assume it had been stolen, and we felt terrible about it. We promised to help replace the money, but Jon-Avery’s response surprised me: “Mom, it’s okay. I had more than I needed, and I wasn’t really saving for anything. Maybe the person who took it needed it more than I did.”
I looked at him as if he were crazy because I know if my life savings had disappeared I wouldn’t have extended as much grace. I hugged him and chewed on his words for days. I asked God to help me hold what I own more loosely—like my son.
Jesus tells two stories about two people and their money that offer a stark contrast. In Mark we read about the poor widow who gave her two small coins, equivalent to a penny, and we warm to Jesus’s praise: “She, out of her poverty, put in everything” (12:44 NIV). I’ve always wondered about this woman tossing her gift into the offering plate, surrounded by religious people who gave much more. Did she give everything she had because she knew it would be returned or because of the joy she felt when she gave or maybe both?
There are many lessons we can take away from this story. Jesus sees things differently than the world does since he noted her small offering rather than the others’ large ones; Jesus doesn’t do math the way we do. He doesn’t want a little, he wants it all. It’s not about the fact that we give; anyone can give. But does it cost us something? For the rich, their offerings cost them nothing. For the widow, her offering cost her everything. Jesus praised her because she gave it all. Her offering cost her significantly more than the offering given by the rich.
Jesus wants us to give what we have. It’s not about the size of the gift; it’s the size of our heart that matters. Let’s face it, in our culture of bigger is better, sometimes it feels like our little yes isn’t enough. I love these words from Mahatma Gandhi, “Whatever you do will be insignificant, but it is very important that you do it.”1
In contrast, Jesus introduces us to a rich young ruler who wasn’t willing to give up everything he had for a greater treasure. When he asked Jesus about how to receive eternal life, he wasn’t willing to do what Jesus asked of him: “Sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me” (Matt. 19:21 NIV).
The passage goes on to say:
“Truly I tell you, it is hard for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of heaven. Again I tell you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.”
When the disciples heard this, they were greatly astonished and asked, “Who then can be saved?”
Jesus looked at them and said, “With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.” (vv. 23–26 NIV)
I have always been a little afraid of this story; I worried that God might ask me to do the same thing. Would I be willing to give all I have if he asked me to?
What might God ask us to give up? God wants us to give him what we love the most because our love of ____________ (fill in the blank) will keep us from God. This was an influential man, maybe even a prince, who had everything money could buy. But when Jesus asked him to give up what he loved the most—his money and possessions—he walked away sad and empty because he just couldn’t do it. Jesus’s command revealed an ugly truth: the young man loved something of the world more than he loved Jesus. Money was his idol.
Jesus asked him to give up what he treasured most, knowing that money and possessions were the young ruler’s god. Randy Alcorn states it this way: “Jesus knew the rich young ruler wouldn’t serve God unless he dethroned his money idol. But the seeker considered the price too great. Sadly, he walked away from real treasures.”2
When we dig deeply into God’s Word we discover this truth to share with our children: how we live impacts how we give.
The rich young ruler mistook the temporary satisfaction of his riches for something that would last and passed up eternity with God. This choice directly impacted how he lived.
My daughter Emerson has always had a sweet tooth. She used to bang the tray of her high chair for pureed fruits and pucker her lips at everything else offered. Her eyes light up at slices of cake and pink donuts and cheesecake. Cupcakes may be her love language. Don’t even get me started on how often she asks for candy. She is a picky eater, and dinner is always a battle; of course, she’s always hungry for dessert. Maybe this sounds familiar. We joke about her insatiable appetite for sugar and constantly remind her to fill up on good food first. The other day she had a lightbulb moment, “Mom, when I eat something sweet, it tastes so good, but I’m usually still hungry afterward.”
Her epiphany made me think about raising our kids in a culture on a constant quest for satisfaction. I’ve watched my kids fill up on empty things—from social media cravings to the trendy, must-have fashion fads to the latest technology upgrades. And one thing is certain: even if or when they get what they want, there’s always something next or better around the corner tempting them.
In our culture no matter how much we get we always want more because we are really good at filling up our time and our lives with things that do not satisfy. Although these things may not all be bad, they leave us feeling empty instead of full. As a matter of fact, it’s reported that after reading other people’s statuses on Facebook we’re more likely to feel down and depressed and generally worse about ourselves than before we read them.3 I know I’ve experienced this.
We are raising a tween and two teens in our house, and I have watched them go from one thing to another in their quest to be satisfied—from sports to musical instruments to hairstyles. I realize this is part of growing up, but it has been amazing watching my older two (especially in the last six or so months) discover deep, abiding satisfaction in their relationship with Christ. They are discovering truths that will carry them through whatever life brings their way. Filling their hearts and minds with the things of God will satisfy their hunger in a way that the world cannot. They will not only feel better but will also be full.
It’s tough being a parent. Our kids are looking to us to lead them. Yet it’s so easy to satisfy our hunger for the eternal with the temporary; it’s easy to get offtrack. When we embrace eternal truths for ourselves, we can lead our kids into God’s definition of satisfaction. I was middle-aged before I got there (and some days I still need a big reminder), so give yourself a break and bookmark the following four conversations to have with your kids.
1. We are eternal beings. This life isn’t the end. Despite our striving and obtaining, we all leave this world with the same thing—nothing. We are created for eternity. The things of this world that are fun and feel good are temporary. They will not last. Kids don’t always have the perspective of hindsight, so everything here and now feels like forever. They need us to gently remind them that the things of this world will never satisfy the hunger with which we are born.
2. We can’t hold on and let go at the same time. Ask your kids to hold on to both your hands while also gripping the handlebars of their bikes. It’s impossible. We have to let go of one or the other. Talk about the story of the rich young ruler with them. He was a good guy; he had done good things. But in the end he held on to the things that didn’t matter. Scripture tells us, “He was holding on tight to a lot of things, and he couldn’t bear to let go” (Matt. 19:22). We have to teach our kids we can’t hold on to Jesus until we let go of this world.
3. We were created to do something that matters. As Christians, if our life goal is happiness we are missing the point of life. We aren’t here so we can have it all or do it all. If that’s our aim we will live dissatisfied lives. We are here to glorify God with our lives. God wants to know that we love him more than anything else. When we live out our purposes we find deep satisfaction, and we discover that our cravings for something real and sweet are satisfied as well. Ask your child what they love doing and look for ways to encourage them to do it for Jesus.
4. Our heart will lead us to our treasure. Jesus said, “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Matt. 6:21 NIV). This is a hard saying, but we cannot deny the truth of it. Where we give our time, money, passion, and energy is where we are investing our hearts and lives. If we made a list of the things we’re investing in or put them in a pie chart, what would it reveal?
Jesus gives us clear, simple instructions regarding our treasures:
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, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. (vv. 19–21 NIV)
And so this begs the question, What do we treasure?
When Jon-Avery was in preschool he had a treasure box. At first it wasn’t an actual box; it was his pockets. He loved stuffing things in his pockets, and I learned the hard way that lizards and frogs drown in the washing machine. From small reptiles he moved on to every kind of screw, nut, bolt, watch part, battery, and metal wire he discovered around the house or in the garage. As he referred to his collection as treasures, we gave him a wooden treasure box to keep his prizes in. Since that time we’ve always said Jon-Avery will probably grow up to be an engineer. For years, he took apart anything that was broken to see how it worked—clocks, toys, and once a laptop keyboard. He tucked the tiny parts away in his box. One time I caught him unscrewing a doorknob so he could store the screws. When he visited his grandparents’ farm in Oklahoma, his grandpa took him to his shop where he worked on farm equipment and gave Jon-Avery treasures for his box. Everyone knew what he treasured.
Sometimes we find it difficult to define what we treasure. We can’t open a box and see them. But when God looks in our hearts they are evident. In his book Money, Possessions, and Eternity, Randy Alcorn asks this question: What is our treasure? A. W. Tozer suggests we may discover the answer by responding to four basic questions:
Obviously, Jesus is the greatest treasure. But would our lives reveal this truth? Would how we live and what we give make it obvious to others that he is our treasure?
In 2010 when I traveled to Kenya with Compassion International on a blogging trip (I write about it in Rhinestone Jesus: Saying Yes to God When Sparkly Safe Faith Is No Longer Enough), I discovered my treasure wasn’t Jesus, and it broke me. I identified with Wess Stafford’s confession: “I avoided coming to visit the poor . . . for a long time. I was afraid my heart would be broken by their condition. Instead, today, I found my heart broken by my condition.”5
I’ve spent the time since seeking my satisfaction in Jesus. Don’t get me wrong. I was a good person, a faithful wife, an intentional mother, and a regular churchgoer, but I was satisfying myself with treasures that would not last. I was full of things that left me feeling empty. I was pious and judged those who weren’t like me, and I was wrecked when I discovered just how poor I really was. I was the rich young ruler. I was the Christian that David Platt referred to in his book Radical:
So what is the difference between someone who willfully indulges in sexual pleasures while ignoring the Bible on moral purity and someone who willfully indulges in the selfish pursuit of more and more material possessions while ignoring the Bible on caring for the poor? The difference is that one involves a social taboo in the church and the other involves the social norm in the church.6
I had always thought that what I had been given was a blessing for me to keep rather than a gift for me to share with others. But hoarding didn’t satisfy me like I thought it would. Instead it robbed me of joy. And worse, I was teaching my children the same thing by living a poor example in front of them.
When we are blessed with money or possessions—or robbed of them—is it a blessing or a test? In The Treasure Principle, a tiny book on giving that packs a powerful punch, Alcorn states:
God comes right out and tells us why He gives us more money than we need. It’s not so we can find more ways to spend it. It’s not so we can indulge ourselves and spoil our children. It’s not so we can insulate ourselves from needing God’s provision.
It’s so we can give—generously.
When God provides more money, we often think, This is a blessing. Well, yes, but it would be just as scriptural to think, This is a test.7
I have failed this test many times. I spent a big chunk of my life seeing extra provision as a blessing for me and my family so that we could have more. But the more I got, the emptier I felt. When we started sharing what we’d been given, we discovered true joy: it is better to give than to receive.
I think Platt sums it up best:
[At the end of our lives] we will not wish we had made more money, acquired more stuff, lived more comfortably, taken more vacations, watched more television, pursued greater retirement, or been more successful in the eyes of this world. Instead, we will wish we had given more of ourselves to living for the day when every nation, tribe, people, and language will bow around the throne and sing the praises of the Savior who delights in radical obedience and the God who deserves eternal worship.8