My First Stewardship Season: A Lesson on Giving in the Episcopal Church

The fun part of switching church denominations every so often is the new, unexpected, and sometimes foreign practices you encounter.

Going from Catholic to Presbyterian was a mild culture shock – really, they have guitars and a piano in church?? Presbyterian to Non-Denominational was even bigger — many more folks with hands in the air.

Now that I'm settling into the Episcopalian church, it feels like I'm coming back home to the Catholic church minus the theological differences.

Except for one thing: stewardship. That's still a new concept to me.

I'm no stranger to the awkward way that money gets brought up in the church.

The Catholic church has finances down to a science; the Presbyterian churches I've been to operate on a fiscal year and reminded us of that every spring; and the Non-Denominational churches I went to didn't bring money up until they were out of it.

But this is my first "stewardship season," which, after a bit of research, I'm finding is one of many Episcopalian quirks.

Having been a Christian in some way, shape, or form for my entire life, these conversations are nothing new. Despite that, they've never been easy for me to stomach.

To explain that, I need to take a brief walk down memory lane.

Money is a weird subject for me

I hate fast food.

It’s not the grease or how processed it is. It’s not even that it doesn’t taste all that good.

I hate fast food because it's cheap and easy to feed a family of six on it, and for that reason, we ate a lot of fast food growing up.

Money has always been a weird subject for me.

My dad runs his own business, and for the last 15 years, it’s done very well — but before that, things were much tougher.

We lived in a nice town in Massachusetts but always felt “less” than those around us. We didn’t take fancy vacations — or many vacations, for that matter. We washed the car in the driveway rather than pay for it. And we ate more than our fair share of fast food for some cheap and easy meals. And that's just what I was wise to, there's a lot more my parents kept from us.

I grew up with habits like reviewing restaurant menus for the cheapest item, buying clothes that are way too big so they fit for longer, and considering any trip on a plane to be a luxury.

I realize that it’s from a place of incredible privilege to look back and say that this was part of my past and not necessarily my present, and I readily acknowledge that the tiniest violin is playing in your head right now.

This is all to provide context for my attitude around money, which from a very young age, began and ended with the phrase, "There is not enough of it."

Of course, now I'm an adult with my own career and finances... until I quit my job last year to start my own company.

Balancing giving with being willfully unemployed

I was fired from my first job (a story for another time), so this go at unemployment was my decision.

I left my career as a Product Manager last year to start a content marketing services company, and have been making my way off the ground for the past year and a half.

I’ve experienced the highs that come with it (no performance reviews, limitless opportunity, always something new to work on) and the lows (no benefits and unpredictable income).

That “unpredictable income” triggers many bad feelings that have been suppressed over the years, which brings me to the subject of pledging.

While my business has been fairly successful in its infancy, it’s still unpredictable. Sure, any given month could bring in a new customer — but at any given month, I could lose a customer (and I have). For all my complaints about working for someone, payment reduction was never one of them.

This unpredictability brings up many of those old fears I have around money, and that’s what makes my first pledge season a bit more interesting than the typical “We’re out of money, won’t you please give?” sermon.

To be honest, my gut reaction this year was the same as last year: no, but maybe next year when things are easier.

That all changed a few Sundays ago.

Why my attitude on pledging changed

I’ve been ushering in my church for the past few months in an effort to get more involved and give of my time.

My thinking is, if I can't give as much money as I'd like to, maybe I can give more minutes instead.

As I ushered recently, a man walked in late wearing a baggy and stained grey sweatshirt, matching sweatpants, and tattered shoes. I welcomed him in, telling him the service was in progress, but there was still time to take a seat. As I went up and down the pews to collect the offering, that same man quickly reached out to drop a few dollars into the plate.

I was stunned.

I try not to judge others by their appearance, but my church is located in a city with a diverse population, and we welcome all individuals, no matter their walks of life, income, or backgrounds. That is to say, I assumed this man does not currently have a brownstone in Back Bay.

But all the same, he found it in himself to give a few dollars for the offering plate.

If he can, why can't I?

I’m reminded of the story in the Gospel of Mark as Jesus watches the poor widow give all she has compared to the rich who give from abundance:

“He sat down opposite the treasury and watched the crowd putting money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. A poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which are worth a penny. Then he called his disciples and said to them, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. For all of them have contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.” Mark 12:41-44

Though I hem and haw at pledge time, I'm incredibly blessed and am in a position to give from abundance. So why don't I?

I don’t have an easy answer on giving

I don’t have an easy answer on giving.

Blanket statements are easy to give, but they break down when the realities of financial stress take center stage. The thought of one more expense (which giving is, let’s be honest) can add to the pile of worry, so I'm not one to say that everyone needs to give and what amount they should be giving.

And while Jesus does tell us not to worry and that God will provide, money is not appearing on my lawn every morning with the new (and neither is manna, for that matter).

At the same time, I can afford to give.

As a member of this church, I should support it, and if I have to forgo a new shirt, pair of shoes, or fancy coffee in order to support the good work that my church does, is that such a hard thing in the end?

I don't have an easy answer on giving, but I've made a personal decision to give more. I don't expect this to change my worldview or bless me in some grand way, but I do hope it's a step toward loosening the grip that money has on my mind and soul.