Living from Trust

North of the equator, the growing season is winding down. The annual seasonal promise is about to turn once again toward winter. It’s getting to be time to hibernate, and the farther north you are, the more hibernation sinks to the roots of things.

Our forebears faced this season with a challenge: How to preserve the bounty of the growing season to carry them through the long, barren winter? The farther north you are, the longer the winter, the more wood and food had to be stored. Even where the winter is not so harsh, the earth still seeks to rest. Even here the growing season slows and that which was grown must be stored lest it be wasted.

For many of us, this idea of “putting things up” is deep in our bones. If our forebears had not been good at this, they would not have survived. We would not have been born. It’s probably in our DNA by now. For the sake of survival, we’re programmed to plan ahead.

There was a time when this instinct was a critical life skill. Those who went before us ate of their own bounty and no other. Now, with grocery stores, greenhouses, and refrigerated trucks and train cars, fall days are less absorbed by blanching and Mason jars. Now we can have fresh spinach when the temperature is below zero, or sliced bananas on our cereal year round. Now friends might find it quaint if we were to pull out freezer jam for a winter breakfast or pickled beets canned by our own hands.

Still, that DNA calls to us. And maybe it’s a good thing, as we wake up to the cost of shipping and the wisdom of eating locally to reduce our dependence on fossil fuels. Yet, like all good things, that DNA has a shadow side. Perhaps it was to that shadow side that Jesus spoke and taught. Matthew reported Jesus’ saying:

Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing?

. . . Therefore do not worry, saying, “What will we eat?” or “What will we drink?” or “What will we wear?” For it is the Gentiles who strive for all these things; and indeed your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. (Matthew 6:25, 31–32)

Luke introduced this same teaching by telling the story of the rich man whose fields produced abundantly, so he put up ever more grain and built ever bigger barns. “Soul,” the man said to himself, “you have ample goods laid up for many years, relax, eat, drink, and be merry.” But it was that night, the very night when the man felt he could at last relax, that his life was demanded of him (Luke 12:16–21).

To hoard or to trust?
What is it about our need for security that can so quickly slip into hoarding and then into greed? How do we so quickly adjust our definition of “enough” upward and pad our sense of security with far more than we really need? We hoard our own wellbeing, each in our own way. For some, it is a home too big or too lavish. For some, it is too much food, or too rich a menu. For some, it is too many toys, too loose a foot.

We pay prices ourselves for this hoarding—loneliness, the burden of owning too much, obesity, a lack of community. Our neighbors, both near and far, pay too, as does the fragile earth. Soon, our perspective can become so skewed that we may not see those neighbors as anything other than competition or threat. We lose sight of one of God’s greatest gifts—that we can rely on our neighbors, that we need not be an island unto ourselves. So Jesus exhorts us to worry less, to let our DNA be a gift to us rather than a tyranny.

What would it mean to trust that “your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things”? This is the reason Jesus offers for not worrying. We could choose to be utterly carefree, not planning at all for the future. In fact, there are branches of the faith community that see this as the holier point of view. “God will provide” is the mantra. Indeed, God will. But this point of view can ignore the tension to which Jesus was speaking.

Given how deeply embedded this idea of preparing for the future is, it’s ironic how we can be selective about our planning. In some areas we hoard, choking our present with more than enough, and in others, we do the opposite, abandoning our futures to whim and fate. The irony is, God will provide. In baptism, we are called to be stewards of that amazing abundance.

Living out of our baptism
Recall the story of the talents given by the master to three slaves (Matthew 25:14–30). One immediately traded on those talents and doubled the number. The second also doubled that which was entrusted. The third was afraid, and so hid the one talent given, lest it be lost. This third one chose fear as a motivator, not trust, and it was this slave who sparked the master’s anger because an opportunity was squandered.

Might not our hoarding instincts come from a similar well—fear that we will not have enough, that we cannot trust God to provide? By the same token, when we abandon our responsibilities to steward the gifts God gives us—wisdom, initiative, compassion, hospitality, energy, passion—and do not invest them for the long term, might we also be choosing fear of the power of these gifts rather than trust in God’s provision?

How often do we women abandon our own selves rather than claim the wonder and goodness that God has created in us? And how often does that fear manifest itself in a lack of care for our bodies, our finances, and our souls, because we are too busy caring for others, which we think is so much better, so much more humble and self-giving? On the surface, we might look to Ruth as a preeminent biblical example of this denial of self. But just below the surface, we can see how she and her mother-in-law Naomi were plotting for their immediate and future well being. Strategic gleaning for today’s bread (gathered bravely during the could provide a way into the economic system of the day). Surely they both must have wondered if this was wise, but still they trusted God’s providing and forged ahead, in spite of the significant risk they took in entering a Moabite into the equation.

When we abandon our future out of fear, we are not living out of our baptism. What might this mean practically? This might mean taking responsibility for our own financial wellness, for example, as Ruth and Naomi did in their own way. Do you know enough about your financial life to feel confident about your decisions and your future wellbeing? Do you ground your decisions in values deeply held—values like sustainability (across generations farther out than your great-grandchildren!), justice, and mercy? Do you consider your own interests, your family’s, the interests of your neighbors (whether across the street or across the globe), and the creation as you make decisions and plans? Are your values and beliefs evident in the life you are living?

Do your spending, saving, and giving reflect what you most deeply believe and hold to be true?

Financial health
A financially healthy person chooses to live out of trust—trust in God’s abundance. A financially healthy person understands how much is abundance of the harvest). Strategic “dating” for tomorrow’s (Boaz was the crucial missing relative who enough and does not need to strive for ever more. A financially healthy person allows for a margin of error, because things happen that can rearrange all of our plans. A financially healthy person manages the risks that are inherent in life—like disability, death, long-term care, or natural disaster. A financially healthy person is resilient, because she understands that this too shall pass. And a financially healthy person is generous with herself and with all others, because that trust in God’s abundance is being stewarded with plans and forethought.

A financially healthy person is not necessarily rich in dollars, but sees the many ways that life is rich and full. A financially healthy person is not necessarily the biggest giver in her congregation, but she gives freely because she knows she will have enough.

Consider this story. A grown daughter and her new husband engage her parents in a serious conversation. It begins with this question: “Mom and Dad, can we afford to have children?” Understandably, the older couple is taken aback. “Isn’t that a question only you can answer?” they wonder in return. “No,” says the daughter pointedly. “If you haven’t financially prepared for your old age, then we’ll be taking care of you later, rather than your grandchildren.” Imagine the joy and anticipation that erupted in that room when the older couple could, with all confidence, say that their daughter and her husband could indeed afford to have children. They had been the stewards of their own wellbeing that baptism called them to be. Their planning— their choice to steward God’s gifts to them—meant that the next generation would not be burdened unduly by their needs.

Not all stories may turn out so neatly, and yet financial health could still be claimed. Perhaps circumstances beyond the parents’ control meant that they would be dependent on their children as they age. Financial health would see both generations living generously still, helping rather than resenting, planning rather than ignoring, bending rather than breaking.

Jesus calls us to give up worry,to leave behind fear as a motivation. Hoarding and greed will also drop to the wayside, at least on our good days. Jesus reminds us that God knows we have needs, and that God will provide even as we are called to be stewards of all that God offers. We can open our eyes to the abundance of this life God gives, and rejoice in the opportunity and call to live into it fully.

The Rev. Catherine Malotky serves the ELCA Board of Pensions as retirement planning manager. An ordained pastor, she has also been an editor, teacher, parish pastor, and retreat leader.

New resources on Financial Wellness
Grace-Full Living: A Retreat Resource for Women on Spirituality and Money is available for download at www.womenoftheelca.org or by calling 800-638-3522, ext. 2737. This financial wellness resource created by Women of the ELCA and the ELCA Board of Pensions addresses stewardship and faith issues. It can be used as a tool in a retreat or workshop setting to discuss the connection between faith and giving. It helps women look at their past experiences with money—what they were taught growing up—and offers exercises on their motivations for giving and saving. In Grace-Full Living, Catherine Malotky of the ELCA Board of Pensions provides information on ways to achieve financial security.

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