Sermon – Short
September always feels like January’s overachieving sibling, doesn’t it? New school supplies smell better than any candle, and we convince ourselves that color-coding our schedules will somehow create more hours in the day. Is that just me?
Here in McPherson, as harvest season approaches and school activities ramp up, we pack our days like overstuffed suitcases. But what if our frantic productivity reveals our struggle to trust God’s abundance?
Today’s ancient scripture speaks a revolutionary truth: everything begins not with our effort, but with God’s generous gift. As we prepare for our Tomorrow First capital campaign next week, Genesis takes us to the very beginning – before any human response, before any commandments. Here we discover that generous giving isn’t duty but joyful participation in God’s creative work.
Genesis offered ancient Israel a radical alternative to surrounding creation myths. While Babylon’s stories depicted creation through violent warfare between gods, Genesis presents something revolutionary – a God who creates through generous speech and blessing. “Let there be light,” God says, and light appears. No battle, no struggle, just pure gift.
The structure itself teaches generosity. “God said… and it was so… God saw it was good” – this rhythm repeats throughout, showing creation as gift, not conquest. The Hebrew word “tov” (good) appears seven times, culminating in “tov meod” (supremely good) after creating humanity. This isn’t quality control but divine delight in giving.
Notice the progression: God creates light before anyone needs to see, forms earth before anything lives on it, fills it with food before creating hungry mouths. Like Kansas farmers planting seeds trusting future harvest, God invests generously before seeing returns. Verse 29’s “I now give to you” reveals God’s priority – provision precedes requirement. Before humans could work, worry, or want, God had already provided everything needed for flourishing.
This pattern continues throughout scripture. Manna appears before Israel wakes hungry. Five loaves multiply before the crowd realizes their need. The prodigal’s father runs with gifts before hearing apologies. God’s generosity always arrives ahead of our awareness.
John Wesley, Methodism’s founder, understood this deeply. He taught that bearing God’s image means reflecting divine generosity in how we use resources. Wesley lived on the same modest amount whether earning thirty or three hundred pounds annually, giving away every increase. He saw this not as deprivation but as alignment with the Creator who gives before asking, blesses before commanding.
Methodist theology calls generosity a “means of grace” – practices that open us to God’s transforming power. When we give, we don’t earn God’s favor; we train our hearts to trust divine abundance over human scarcity. We practice the truth Genesis teaches: everything originates as gift.
The good news is that God’s economy operates on abundance, not scarcity. Scripture reveals a God who creates lavishly and ultimately gives Jesus himself – divine generosity made flesh. This gospel liberates us from the anxiety of never having enough. In God’s kingdom, the widow’s two coins outweigh the rich man’s surplus because generosity isn’t measured by amount but by trust. Water becomes wine. Death becomes life. God’s abundance contradicts every scarcity message our culture sells.
This week, as we prepare for Tomorrow First: Each morning, name three gifts you received yesterday – notice God’s provision in ordinary moments. Offer your best hour to someone who needs it. Share a meal with someone outside your usual circle. Each generous choice trains our hearts to trust God’s abundant provision.
From that first “Let there be light” to the final gift of sabbath rest, Genesis shows that abundance, not scarcity, shapes reality. When we give, we don’t diminish – we discover. We don’t lose – we find. We don’t empty – we overflow. You bear the image of a generous God. This week, live like it.
Will you pray with me?
Generous God, you created abundance before we knew need. Free us from scarcity’s grip. Fill us with trust in your provision. Make us channels of your boundless generosity. Amen.
Sermon
September always feels like January’s overachieving sibling, doesn’t it? New school supplies smell better than any candle, fresh calendars promise this will finally be the year we stay organized, and we convince ourselves that color-coding our schedules will somehow create more hours in the day. Many of us experience this annual burst of optimism – buying school year planners we’ll abandon by October, joining committees we’ll regret by November, and making commitments that assume we’ve somehow transcended our need for sleep.
Consider moments when we treat time like we’re trying to squeeze water from a stone, forgetting that the God who created time also created rest. We pack our days like overstuffed suitcases, sitting on them to force the zipper closed, then wonder why we feel breathless. Here in McPherson, as harvest season approaches and school activities ramp up, this pressure intensifies. But what if our frantic productivity actually reveals our struggle to trust God’s abundance? What if our packed schedules whisper that we don’t really believe God’s provision is enough?
Whether you’re here exploring faith for the first time or you’ve been following Jesus for decades, today’s ancient scripture speaks a revolutionary truth: everything begins not with our effort, but with God’s generous gift. This message offers hope whether you’re wondering if God even exists or you’re deeply committed to your faith journey.
While today’s message stands alone, it connects with our congregation’s journey toward greater generosity through our Tomorrow First capital campaign beginning next week. Over recent weeks, we’ve explored scriptures about vision, possibility, and trust. Now Genesis 1 takes us to the very beginning – before any human response, before any commandments, before any expectations.
Here we discover the foundation of all giving: God creates and provides abundantly before asking anything in return. This origin story reshapes how we view stewardship. Rather than starting with our obligations, we begin with God’s overflow. Today’s scripture reveals that generous giving isn’t a duty we grudgingly fulfill but a joyful participation in the creative work God started at the dawn of time. This truth transforms both how we view our capital campaign and how we understand our daily lives.
Let me tell you the story of a man born in Vermont in 1888. R.G. LeTourneau started as a mechanic who could barely keep his garage doors open. After committing his business to God, he began tithing – then giving 20%, then 30%, eventually reaching 90% of his income. When skeptical businessmen questioned his “reckless” generosity, he’d lean back with a mischievous smile: “I shovel money out, and God shovels it back – but God has a bigger shovel.”
His earth-moving equipment revolutionized construction, building highways and airstrips during World War II. Yet LeTourneau insisted, “I’m not a businessman who happens to be Christian. I’m a Christian who happens to be in business.” His motivation wasn’t tax breaks or recognition but partnership with God’s creative work. The unexpected element? The more he gave, the more innovative his designs became, as if generosity somehow unleashed creativity.
His LeTourneau University continues educating students today. Missionary airstrips worldwide exist because one mechanic discovered the joy of being God’s delivery system. LeTourneau proved that loosening our grip on wealth tightens our grasp on purpose. He died with little personal wealth but massive Kingdom impact, I imagine, still chuckling about God’s “bigger shovel.” His story invites us to consider: what might God do through our generosity here in McPherson?
Like LeTourneau discovering God’s “bigger shovel,” the ancient Israelites needed to understand their God had bigger plans than the violent creation myths surrounding them. Written during or after the Babylonian exile, when Israel’s faith was tested by foreign gods and creation stories, Genesis offered a radical alternative. While Babylon’s Enuma Elish depicted creation through cosmic warfare, Genesis presents a God who creates through generous speech and blessing.
The structure itself teaches generosity. “God said… and it was so… God saw it was good” – this rhythm appears throughout, showing creation as gift, not conquest. The Hebrew word “tov” translated as good appears seven times, culminating in “tov meod” which means supremely good after creating humanity. This isn’t quality control but divine delight in giving.
Notice the progression: God creates light before anyone needs to see, forms the earth before anything lives on it, fills it with food before creating hungry mouths. Like Kansas farmers who plant seeds trusting in future harvest, God invests generously before seeing returns. Verse 29’s “I now give to you” reveals God’s priority – provision precedes requirement.
This connects to biblical themes throughout scripture – from manna in the wilderness to loaves and fishes, from the widow’s oil to Pentecost’s Spirit. The pattern remains consistent: God gives abundantly before asking anything in return. Genesis establishes the foundation: all theology begins with God’s generous first move. Understanding this transforms how we see everything else.
This Genesis account profoundly shapes Methodist understanding of generosity as participation in God’s nature rather than mere obligation. John Wesley, Methodism’s founder, taught that bearing God’s image means reflecting divine generosity in how we use resources. His sermon “The Use of Money” wasn’t about accumulation but circulation – earning all we can, saving all we can, specifically to give all we can.
Wesley saw creation’s abundance as God’s intention for human flourishing, not hoarding. He lived on the same modest amount whether earning thirty or three hundred pounds annually, giving away the increase. This wasn’t asceticism but alignment with the Creator who gives before asking, blesses before commanding. Wesley understood that God’s prevenient grace – divine love working in us before we’re even aware – begins with creation itself.
Methodist theology emphasizes “means of grace” – practices that open us to God’s transforming power. Generosity functions as such a means, not earning God’s favor but training our hearts to trust divine abundance over human scarcity. When we give, we practice the truth Genesis teaches: everything originates as gift. Our stewardship simply returns to God what was always God’s, discovering in that release the “perfect love” Wesley believed possible – love that casts out fear, including financial fear. Consider three ways this ancient wisdom addresses modern life.
First, financial anxiety grips many households. Whether facing student loans, medical bills, or retirement fears, we often operate from scarcity. Genesis reminds us that God created abundance before need existed. The McPherson family choosing between groceries and medicine may discover that God’s provision often comes through community generosity – perhaps through our food pantry or Servant Outreach fund. The young professional overwhelmed by debt finds freedom not through earning more but through simplifying needs and discovering “enough.”
Second, consumerism whispers that happiness requires the next purchase. Yet Genesis shows God declaring creation “good” before humanity could add anything. The executive who downsizes her home finds spaciousness in simplicity. The teenager who shares his gaming system with younger neighbors discovers joy multiplies when divided. True abundance isn’t about accumulation but circulation – a truth our farming community understands through sharing equipment and helping with harvests.
Third, many struggle to find purpose beyond productivity. Genesis reveals we’re created in the image of a generous God – our deepest purpose involves giving, not getting. The retiree who mentors struggling students at McPherson College or Central Christian, the busy parent who shares garden vegetables with neighbors, the minimum-wage worker who volunteers teaching English – each discovers that generosity creates meaning that paychecks cannot provide.
The good news is that God’s economy operates on abundance, not scarcity. From Genesis through Revelation, scripture reveals a God who creates lavishly, provides manna daily, multiplies loaves and fishes, and ultimately gives Jesus himself – the supreme act of divine generosity. Christ embodies both God’s extravagant giving and the joy found in self-giving love, showing us that losing our life means finding it.
This gospel liberates us from the anxiety of never having enough. In God’s kingdom, the widow’s two coins outweigh the rich man’s surplus because generosity isn’t measured by amount but by trust. The five loaves offered become feast for thousands. Water becomes wine. Death becomes life. God’s abundance contradicts every scarcity message our culture sells.
Generosity becomes spiritual practice, not obligation. When we give – whether money, time, or talents – we participate in God’s ongoing provision for creation. Each act of sharing aligns our hearts with God’s generous heart, transforming our relationship with possessions from ownership to stewardship, from grasping to gratitude.
This good news speaks across economic situations. For those struggling financially, it offers the possibility of God’s faithful provision through community. For those with resources, it offers purpose beyond accumulation. For all, it extends abundance beyond material goods to include community, purpose, joy, and eternal life. We’re invited to join God’s generous movement in the world.
As we respond to God’s abundant generosity, consider these practices that may prepare our hearts for more abundant living:
Gratitude: Each morning, name three gifts you received yesterday – notice God’s daily provision in ordinary moments like morning coffee, a friend’s text, or Kansas autumn sunshine.
Time: Offer your best hour this week to someone who needs it – mentor a student, visit someone at McPherson Hospital, or help a neighbor prepare for harvest.
Hospitality: Share a meal with someone outside your usual circle, practicing God’s inclusive welcome that makes room for all.
Each generous choice, however small, trains our hearts to trust God’s bigger shovel and prepares us to participate joyfully in our congregation’s future.
Like LeTourneau discovering God’s shovel was bigger than his, we’ve seen how Genesis reveals the source of all generosity. From that first “Let there be light” to the final gift of sabbath rest, God shows us that abundance, not scarcity, shapes reality. Our capital campaign isn’t about meeting budget but about joining God’s creative work in McPherson. When we give, we don’t diminish – we discover. We don’t lose – we find. We don’t empty – we overflow.
Whether you’re taking your first steps in faith or you’ve walked with Jesus for years, this truth remains: you bear the image of a generous God. This week, as we prepare for Tomorrow First, live like it. After all, God’s first gift reminds us that everything we have to give was first given to us. The Creator who spoke light into darkness continues speaking abundance into our lives today.
Will you pray with me?
Generous God, you created abundance before we knew need. Free us from scarcity’s grip. Fill us with trust in your provision. Make us channels of your boundless generosity. Amen.
In crafting today’s sermon, I employed AI assistants like Claude and Apple Intelligence, yet the ultimate responsibility for its content rests with me. These tools offered valuable perspectives, but the most influential sermon preparation hinges on biblical study, theological insight, personal reflection, and divine guidance. I see AI as a supportive aid to enrich the sermon process while ensuring my own voice in proclaiming the Word of God.
Rev. Andrew Conard 