Wednesday, October 28, 2026
written by Rev. Erik Khoobyarian
Giving as a Spiritual Practice
We often talk about giving when there is a need.
A ministry needs support. A building needs repair. A mission partner needs resources. A church is preparing its budget for another year. The need is real, and there’s nothing wrong with naming it honestly. Ministry requires resources. Buildings need care. Programs need staff. The work of the church is made possible, in part, by the generosity of those who believe in it.
But Christian giving begins somewhere deeper than need.
We don’t give only because the church needs something from us. We give because generosity is one of the ways God works within us.
Giving is a spiritual practice.
Like prayer, worship, service, and the study of scripture, generosity shapes us through repetition. We don’t wait until we feel completely generous before we begin. We practice generosity, and through that practice we become more generous people. We learn to hold what we have with greater freedom. We become more attentive to the needs of others. We discover the joy of participating in something larger than ourselves.
That kind of giving is about more than paying bills. It is about becoming disciples.
Henri Nouwen explored this idea in his short book A Spirituality of Fundraising. He insisted that conversations about money need not be separated from the spiritual life. Fundraising, he wrote, is “a way of announcing our vision and inviting other people into our mission.”
That changes the nature of the invitation. Giving isn’t a fee we pay for services received. It isn’t an obligation imposed by an institution. It’s an opportunity to participate in a shared vision of what God is doing—and what God might yet do—through a community of faith.
This is one reason our stewardship theme at Pinnacle this year is “Room to Flourish.”
Flourishing doesn’t simply mean having more. It doesn’t mean that every program expands, every wish is fulfilled, or every problem disappears. In the biblical imagination, flourishing is life rooted in God. It is life that grows in faith, reaches outward in love, and remains grounded in hope.
Paul uses similar language at the beginning of his first letter to the Thessalonians. He gives thanks for their “work of faith and labor of love and steadfastness of hope.” Their faith moves. Their love accepts a cost. Their hope endures.
Generosity can do the same.
Giving can be a work of faith. It asks us to trust that our lives are sustained by more than what we can accumulate or protect.
Giving can be a labor of love. Love is more than a feeling. It takes form in the ways we use our time, share our gifts, and direct our resources toward the well-being of others.
Giving can be an expression of hope. We support ministries whose full impact we may never see. We plant seeds for people we may never meet. We invest in a future that will extend beyond our own participation in it.
Our gifts make room.
They make room for a child to discover that questions are welcome in church. They make room for music that expresses what words alone cannot. They make room for someone to receive care during illness, grief, or loneliness. They make room for adults to study, pray, build friendships, and grow in faith. They make room for mission partners to meet real needs in our community. They help us care responsibly for the spaces entrusted to us so that those spaces can continue to serve ministry.
Generosity makes room for others to flourish.
It can also make room within us.
Money has an extraordinary ability to occupy our thoughts. It can represent security, possibility, success, independence, or control. Financial wisdom matters, of course. Planning for the future and caring for those who depend upon us are faithful responsibilities. But if we aren’t attentive, money can begin to carry more spiritual weight than it was ever meant to bear.
The practice of giving helps put money in its proper place. It reminds us that what we possess is part of what has been entrusted to us, not the measure of who we are. It loosens fear’s grip. It challenges the assumption that more will always be enough. It turns our attention from accumulation toward participation.
That doesn’t mean every person gives the same amount. Christian generosity isn’t measured by comparing one household with another. Our circumstances differ, sometimes greatly. The more helpful questions are personal: Is my giving intentional? Is it connected to my faith? Does it reflect gratitude? Is there room for it to grow?
For some, the next faithful step may be making a pledge for the first time. For others, it may be increasing a pledge, beginning to give proportionally, or considering generosity before deciding how everything else will be spent. The specific step will be different for each of us. What matters is that we take the question seriously and bring it into prayer.
During this stewardship season, we’re inviting everyone who calls Pinnacle home to consider their financial commitment for the coming year. That invitation is important. Our shared generosity determines not only whether we can cover present expenses, but also whether we can support our mission partners more fully, maintain our property faithfully, provide appropriate staffing, and explore new opportunities for worship, learning, fellowship, service, and prayer.
Yet the deeper invitation extends beyond one campaign, one pledge card, or one church budget.
It’s an invitation to consider what our giving is doing in us, through us, and among us.
What do our financial choices reveal about what we value? Where might God be inviting us to release some fear? What future do we hope our generosity will help make possible? How might giving become part of the way we pray?
We give because there are needs. But we don’t give only because there are needs.
We give because love takes form.
We give because hope looks toward the future.
We give because generosity makes room—within the church, within the world, and within us—for God’s life to flourish.
