Practical Tips for Becoming More Generous | Trinity Sermons

Today's reading is from Deuteronomy chapter 24,

Deuteronomy 24:19–22

verses 19 to 22. When you are harvesting in your

field and you overlook a sheaf, do not go back

to get it. Leave it for the foreigner, the fatherless,

and the widow, so that the Lord your God may

bless you in all the work of your hands. When

you beat the olives from your trees, do not go

over the branches a second time. Leave what remains

for the foreigner, the fatherless, and the widow.

When you harvest the grapes in your vineyard,

do not go over the vines again. Leave what remains

for the foreigner, the fatherless, and the widow.

Remember, you were slaves in Egypt. That is why

I command you to do this. The word of the Lord.

But you know that this summer, this is part of

the Growing Season series because we've been

exploring these agricultural or farming images

and stories that run throughout Scripture. The

videos with Rob's dad and, of course, the sermon

series have been wonderful reminders that God

in the Bible uses farming not just as illustration,

but as a way of teaching people who he is and

how his followers are to live. Now, unlike Rob,

I didn't grow up on a farm. So I've been learning

alongside many of you as we've listened to these

videos, we've reflected on the ways that God

has used ordinary farming practices or stories

and images to teach spiritual values. And I would

say that even though many of us don't spend our

days on farms, the people of Israel certainly

did. Farming wasn't just part of their economy.

It shaped their imagination, it shaped their

culture, their calendar, and even their understanding

of God. And today's Bible passage that J .P.

read takes us into one of those specific practices.

We're going to look at how this ancient farming

principle and the reasons behind it point to

how God's people are to design our lives with

room for others. We'll look at the law. We'll

see it in real life application, and then we'll

bring it forward to the life of Jesus and what

we can learn from there. That's the trajectory

we'll take today. But before we dive in and reflecting

a little bit on what Rob's dad was just talking

about, I want us to think about modern farming.

You know, through these videos, we've seen a

little bit about what farming looked like when

Rob's dad was farming. We even heard, I think

last week, His grandfather, we saw some of the

tools that he used, hand tools, farming back

in the Netherlands. Modern farming is absolutely

extraordinary. It's big business. Increasingly

it's powered by technology, automation, satellites,

sensors, AI and data. Preparing for the sermon

to get some background, I watched a bunch of

video about modern farm equipment. And sometimes

I wasn't quite sure whether I was watching a

documentary or science fiction. I mean, think

about a modern dairy farm like what Rob's dad

has. Years ago, farmers would go in and milk

cows, right? One by one, twice a day. Well, today,

some farms use almost completely robots. Automation.

The cows choose when they want to be milked.

When they're ready, they walk into the robotic

milking station where lasers locate each teat

on each udder. Robotic arms attach the milking

cups and every cow is identified electronically.

The computer tracks milk production, behavior,

health indicators. Well, let's move from cows

to crops because we're going to talk about fields

today. Consider what you could do with some of

the machinery that's available. For example,

this is the pinnacle of farming innovation. This

is a top -of -the -line modern combine harvester,

the John Deere X9 -1100. That's a bad boy. This

is not your grandfather's combine. You know,

Dave, for about $1 .5 million, you could have

one of these in your own backyard if you wanted.

This combine can harvest enormous fields with

astonishing precision. Incredible speed, collecting

almost every kernel of grain. It uses cutting

-edge automation to use precise turns, protecting

yields and reducing crop loss. And maybe even

a little bit scarier, I learned that there's

actually some technologies that may make farmers

themselves less important. There are several

manufacturers that are selling autonomous tractors.

They can work fields with no driver at all. Some

of the tractors can map a field to the centimeter.

They can operate around the clock, avoid obstacles

on their own. And they're designed to leave nothing

behind. Because the goal is obvious with all

of these advances. Don't miss anything. Don't

waste anything. Harvest every acre. Measure every

liter. Use every minute. Now, this approach is

actually pretty good stewardship in some ways.

Greater efficiency means better yields, which

can feed more people. You know, when we look

back in the Bible, we can see that there are

lots of farming instructions. Many practices

that are mentioned there are actually aligned

with some of these goals in modern farming. They

make good agricultural sense. I'm not going to

take time to explore all of them, but just a

few. There are instructions to farmers about

leaving fields to rest, fallow, so that they

improve productivity. There are instructions

in the Bible about caring for animals that are

working to improve their health and their productivity.

There are instructions about harvesting at the

right time to prevent loss. And modern agriculture

has used, or maybe even rediscovered, so much

of that wisdom. But then, like today, we open

the book of Deuteronomy and we encounter one

farming practice that makes absolutely no modern

economic sense. So let's listen to one of the

most unusual farming instructions in the whole

Bible. These are known as the gleaning laws.

So I'll just reread it from Deuteronomy. You

see part of it on the screen here. God says to

farmers, when you're harvesting your field and

you overlook a sheaf, do not go back and get

it. Leave it for the foreigner, the fatherless,

and the widow, so that the Lord may bless you

in the work of your hands. It goes on to say

this, when you beat the olives from your trees,

do not go over the branches a second time. Leave

what remains for the foreigner, the fatherless,

and the widow. When you harvest the grapes in

your vineyard, don't go over the vines again.

Leave what remains for the foreigner, the fatherless,

and the widow. Remember, it says, that you were

slaves in Egypt. This is why I command you to

do this. So this unusual command is actually

not isolated. It's a couple other places in the

Bible as well. In Leviticus, for example, they're

almost more explicit. In Leviticus 23, God commands,

when you reap the harvest of your land, do not

reap to the very edges of your field or gather

the gleanings or the leftovers of your harvest.

Leviticus gives us that instruction. Don't go

to the edges of your land. Deuteronomy even goes

further and expands the principle. If you forget

a sheaf, don't go back. If there are olives still

on that tree, don't go back. If there are grapes

still on the vine, leave them. Now, it's important

to remember what God isn't saying here. He's

not telling farmers to abandon their fields.

Farmers still get to harvest. They earn a living.

They enjoy the fruit of their labor. But God

says they aren't to take everything. He gives

them limits. His people are commanded to stop

before... They had taken everything that they

could. I think that's pretty remarkable because

in some ways the instinct is for us to do completely

the opposite. We naturally think, hey, this is

mine. Why wouldn't I collect every last bit?

And yet God says, leave the edges. Of course,

that raises the obvious question, why? Why would

God intentionally make his people less efficient?

Why would he ask them to leave part of the harvest

behind? Well, this morning, as we'll discover

and as we explore, the answer actually has very

little to do with farming and everything to do

with the kind of people that God was forming.

What if God wants us to leave the edges of our

lives, too? So why would God ask his people to

leave part of this harvest behind? Well, the

answer begins in the very last sentence of the

passage that we just read. Remember that you

were slaves in Egypt. That is why I command you

to do this. That little sentence changes everything.

God doesn't simply say, be generous. He says,

remember. Remember what it felt like to have

nothing. Remember what it felt like to depend

on someone else's kindness or just on God's provision.

Remember what it was like to be powerless. Remember

God's rescue. God understood something about

the human heart. It doesn't take long for people

who have been blessed to forget what it was like

before that blessing took place. It doesn't take

long for people who have found security to forget

what insecurity feels like. And so every harvest

in Israel was not just about getting food, of

remembering. Every time an Israelite farmer walked

past grain that he could have gathered, he was

reminded, once you had nothing, everything we

have is because God rescued us. It's a theme

that runs throughout the book of Deuteronomy,

actually. Just a few chapters earlier, Moses

says, remember that you were slaves in Egypt

and the Lord your God redeemed you. Memory creates

compassion. I think it's here because people

who have been rescued and remember rescue become

rescuers. But memory is not the only reason.

Other places in the Bible, God says a few things

that completely change the way we think about

our possessions. In Leviticus 25, 23, he says,

the land is mine. He reminds them. And the psalmist

in Psalm 24 echoes that same truth. The earth

is the Lord's and everything in it. That's a

profound shift in perspective. We naturally think

in terms of ownership. God speaks in terms of

stewardship. So gleaning wants us to steward

the gifts of God. Yes, farmers worked hard. They

prepared the soil. They planted the seed. They

gathered the harvest. But these... Principles

remind us that before the farmer's achievement,

it was God's gift. Everything that they possessed

first belonged to God. So if that's true, God

has every right to say, leave some of it behind.

And that leaves us to a third reason. Gleaning

tells us to intentionally build generosity into

our lives. So again, thinking about generosity,

notice what God doesn't say. He doesn't say if

you happen to notice somebody in need. He doesn't

say if you're feeling especially generous this

year. He doesn't even say if there's enough left

over. Instead, before the harvest begins, God

has already set aside part of it for someone

else. The decision we learn here to be generous

isn't made after the harvest. It's made before

the harvest. Gleaning turns generosity from an

occasional decision into a permanent design feature

of our lives. God doesn't want us to leave generosity

just to impulse, even though the impulse can

be good. He wants us to build it into the architecture

of his people's lives. I found it so telling

when I read where we see these gleaning commands.

If you look at the book of Leviticus 19, where

we see the Leviticus pieces of these gleaning

laws, it's actually set at the beginning of a

long set of paragraphs. So it starts by telling

farmers, don't go to the edges when you harvest.

Then it moves on to specific commands around

honesty, justice, fair treatment of workers,

caring for others. And then, right in the middle

of this chapter, we find words that Jesus would

later identify as one of the greatest commandments

of all of Scripture. Love your neighbor as yourself.

Gleaning, loving your neighbor, are connected.

So leaving the edges of the field for gleaning,

it wasn't simply an agricultural regulation.

It was one practical expression of loving your

neighbor. Long before Jesus quoted these words,

God had already meant to weave these principles

into the ordinary rhythms of his followers' lives.

Love wasn't meant to just be something that we

felt. It was something that we intentionally

designed into the way we lived. Now, I want to

suggest that there's at least one more reason

as well. Notice who benefits from this law. We

repeated it a few times, right? The foreigner,

the fatherless, or the orphan, and the widow.

Those groups often appear together throughout

the Old Testament. It's like the triad of these

three people, a trio. They represent the people

with the least amount of security, the least

influence, and the fewest opportunities. We know

from Deuteronomy 10 that God himself defends

the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and

he loves the foreigner. And in the very next

verse, Israel is once again commanded to remember,

and you are to love those who are foreigners,

for you yourselves were foreigners in Egypt.

God's people are called to treat others the way

God has treated them. So that's one more beautiful

feature of gleaning, I think, that should point

us to even rethink what charity can look like.

Because gleaning preserved dignity. The poor

didn't simply wait for someone to hand them food.

They walked into the fields. They were invited

there. They worked. They gathered what had been

intentionally left for them. This wasn't simply

a handout. It was a hand up. It created opportunity

while preserving dignity. In my time at World

Vision, I learned that having vulnerable people

participate in their own development and support

became a game changer in engagement and results.

So can you begin to see what God is getting at

and doing through these gleaning laws? Yes, he's

feeding hungry people, but he's actually doing

much more than that. He's forming a different

kind of community. A community where generosity

isn't just an occasional act. It's part of a

design. A design where people remember grace.

Where possessions are held in trust. Where neighbors

are loved in practical ways. And where even the

most vulnerable are treated with dignity. Well,

these laws and the principles behind them, you

know, they were never... meant just to remain

words on a page. It was meant to shape the life

of a community. And perhaps nowhere do we see

that more beautifully than in the biblical story

of Ruth. Deuteronomy and Leviticus give us the

law, and Ruth gives us a face. Now, we didn't

read the whole story of Ruth. I encourage you

to go and look at the book of Ruth, particularly

in chapter 2. But let me summarize it for you.

I'll take you back to Sunday school with me this

morning. The story that we're focused on begins

with a tragedy. Naomi is an Israelite woman.

She lives in Bethlehem. And during a famine,

she and her family, her husband and two sons,

move and settle in the neighboring country of

Moab. There, unfortunately, her husband dies.

Both of her sons have married a Moabite wife,

but then they both die as well, leaving Noah...

Naomi and her two daughters -in -law widowed

and without any means of support. And so Naomi

decides to return home to Bethlehem. And one

of her daughters -in -law, Ruth, refuses to leave

her. You probably know this, the famous word

she says, where you go, I will go. Where you

stay, I will stay. Your people will be my people,

and your God, my God. So with that remarkable

commitment to loyalty, they leave together and

return to Bethlehem. And they arrive there just

at the beginning of the barley harvest. Now,

Ruth is poor. She's a widow. She's also a foreigner.

This is exactly the kind of person that these

Deuteronomy laws imagined. By every measure,

she belongs to the very group that God told the

people of Israel not to forget. So with no land,

with no future, no income. Ruth does the only

thing that she can during this time. She cleans.

In the book of Ruth, chapter 2, she says to her

Ruth 2 · chapter mention

mother -in -law, hey, let me go out into the

harvest fields to pick up the stalks of grain

left behind by anyone who is kind enough to let

me do it. So she goes into the fields, trusting

that she'll find someone who's actually following

God's laws and who is leaving enough grain. for

someone like her. Now, the story goes on. We

learn that through God's providence, Ruth picks

the field of a man named Boaz. And what follows

is remarkable, because Boaz is not only somebody

who's obeying the gleaning laws, but he does

more than is required. First, he offers protection

to Ruth as she gleans. She's given access to

water. She's even invited to eat with his And

meanwhile, Boaz quietly orders his harvesters,

let her, Ruth, gather grain right among the sheaves

without stopping her. Hey, and pull out some

handfuls of barley from the bundles and drop

them on purpose for her. Let them pick them up

and don't rebuke her. So here we have a situation

where Boaz doesn't just leave the edges of his

field, he widens them. He doesn't ask, what's

the minimum I have to do? But he asks, how can

I bless this person in need? He goes beyond the

letter of the law to the spirit that God put

behind it and turns obligation into abundant,

intentional generosity. The law made provision

for vulnerable people, but grace made them welcome.

And you know what? This act of generosity changes

everything. Ruth and Boaz eventually marry. And

their family line leads to King David and generations

later to Jesus himself. The story that we just

heard about begins with a forgotten foreign widow

gleaning scraps in a field. And it ends with

that same woman becoming part of God's great

story of redemption. And I think that's exactly

what Deuteronomy was aiming at. Not merely obedience

to a rule, but a community that has been shaped

by the generous heart of God. Where people on

the margins discover that there is room for them

in the harvest and ultimately a place in God's

family. The law and justice says leave the edges,

but grace says leave handfuls on purpose. I've

kind of emphasized that a bit because Christians

over the years have long seen in Boaz, that compassionate

farmer, an echo of Jesus himself. Because like

Ruth, we come with nothing that we can claim

as our own. We come as people in need of grace.

Scripture says that once we were separated from

Christ, outsiders to God's promises and without

hope in the world, but in Jesus, those who were

far away have been brought near. Boaz welcomed

Ruth, the foreigner, into his field. Jesus welcomes

us into God's family. Boaz left grain. Jesus

gave himself. At the cross, Jesus leaves nothing

back. He takes upon himself our sin, our brokenness,

our separation with God, and he opens up the

way for us to receive forgiveness, reconciliation,

and new life. This law made provision for the

outsider. Boaz in the story made the outsider

welcome. Jesus brings the outsider home. And

that matters for everything that follows. Christian

generosity doesn't just begin with guilt or obligation.

It begins by remembering, remembering grace.

We leave room for others because Jesus made room

for us. We give because Christ first gave himself

for us. We welcome because we have been welcomed.

And of course, when we look to the life of Jesus,

someone that we have to emulate, we see that

grace, this grace, shaped not only his death,

but the way that he lived every day. So as Christians,

the call to leave room at the edges is not simply

another demand that's placed upon us. It's an

invitation to let the grace that we've received

reshape the design of our lives. Jesus has made

room for us. And the question is, will our lives

make room for others? So let's turn to just a

few practical ways to think about what this might

mean for us. Now, I'm sure that among you here,

there are some farmers, maybe there are some

winemakers. Most of us, I don't think, own fields.

We don't typically harvest barley or olives or

gather grapes. However... Every one of us does

have something that God has entrusted to us.

We have money, time, home, abilities, relationships.

We have influence and opportunities. And every

one of those, I think, could be considered one

of the fields that God has given to us to steward.

So the question then is not simply whether we

occasionally give some of those things away.

That's a good thing. But the deeper question

and the broader challenge for all of us is whether,

as we follow the principles behind the idea of

gleaning, whether we have designed our lives

to leave room for someone else. And that's the

difference I'm kind of getting at. Occasional

generosity asks, is there anything left? But

generosity by design asks, what will I intentionally

leave? So what are the edges of our lives? Where

can we leave room? Well, the most obvious way,

maybe, begin, as we think about generosity, is

to begin with money. You know, the Apostle Paul

in 2 Corinthians says, each of you should give

what you've decided in your heart to give. Notice

that word, decided. Paul assumes that generosity

has already been planned. It's not simply a reaction.

It's been built into the life of the believer.

Remember that point about gleaning before? The

margin wasn't created after the harvest. It was

created before the harvest took place. Now, lots

of us follow a familiar pattern. We earn, we

spend, we save, and then if there's something

remaining, we think about giving. But God challenges

us to reverse the order. He asks us to decide

first. Not because he needs our money, but because

he knows that generosity does something even

more. It reshapes our hearts. So the question

shouldn't just be, how much do I give? It's,

is generosity built into the architecture of

the way we live our lives? Now don't worry, this

is not just a stewardship talk about giving more

money to the church or something like that. In

fact, money isn't the only field that we can

harvest. Many of us harvest our calendars with

the same determination as some of those modern

farmers. I don't know about you, but every hour

can feel spoken for. Every opening is filled.

We think about that as being productive. But

sometimes the downside is that it leaves us unavailable

to the people that God places in our lives. Again,

we look to the life of Jesus. Jesus certainly

had a mission, and he was moving with urgency.

And yet... he repeatedly made room for others

who other people thought were interruptions.

He noticed the woman who quietly touched his

cloak. He welcomed children when his disciples

wanted to shoo them away. He was willing to stop

and look up in the tree and see Zacchaeus and

invite himself to dinner. He never seemed to

be in such a hurry that people became interruptions

instead of neighbors. So maybe that's one of

the edges that God wants us to leave. It doesn't

mean endless availability. We need to have healthy

margins in our lives, healthy boundaries, but

enough margin to notice someone, maybe to take

a little extra time, listen a little longer,

or respond when somebody places someone unexpectedly

in our path. We can leave room in our attention.

This may be one of the scarcest resources in

our culture. We can be surrounded by people and

still fail to notice them because our minds are

somewhere else. I am so guilty of this. We hurry

from one commitment to another. We're distracted

by our phones, our responsibilities, and our

own concerns. And yet throughout the Gospels,

one of the remarkable things about Jesus is that

he simply noticed people. He saw other people

that others overlooked. He listened to those

who others ignored. He treated every single person

as if they did bear the image of God. Paul writes

in Philippians 2 that we should not look only

to our own interests, but to consider the interests

of others. I have a good friend. His name is

Tim. His spiritual gift, I think, is attention.

Because when you are with him, even though during

this season he carries his own deep burdens,

You feel like you are the only person in his

world. It is a blessing to me when I'm with him.

He's living that and leaving room in his attention.

So it may be as simple as putting the phone away,

maybe asking one more question or lingering long

enough, even at coffee hour, for someone to know

that they have been truly seen and heard. Beyond

finances, time, attention, we all have other

gifts that we can share too. Peter reminds Christians,

each of you should use whatever gift you've received

to serve others as faithful stewards of God's

grace. See that echo of stewardship. Some of

us have accumulated years of experience, wisdom,

practical knowledge. Other people, and I can

look around some of you who live this out, you

have the gifts of encouragement or hospitality,

administration. teaching, skills, or leadership.

Those gifts are also some of the harvest that

God has entrusted to us. So who's benefiting

from what God has given you? Who are you mentoring?

Who are you encouraging? Who is learning because

you've taken the time to invest in them? We can

keep our gifts to ourselves, or we can intentionally

leave room for others to glean from what God

has taught us over the years. I'm excited certainly

as we even think about the role of leadership

development and sharing in the good way plan

that Trinity is implementing now. And that actually

leads me to the last point, which is this. What

would it look like if Trinity Streetsville intentionally

left even more room at the edges as a church?

I think we do this pretty well, but not just

simply in our budget, but in our life together.

If we did that, would newcomers feel even...

Find it easier to belong? Would lonely people

find deeper friendship? Could families in crisis

provide support and discover that? Would those

who are uncertain about faith find a safe place

to ask questions? Would someone who feels like

an outsider discover that there is room for them

here? Even the best churches can become remarkably

efficient at caring for people who already are

part of the community. But when we apply the

gleaning laws and the principles, it reminds

us that God intentionally designed his people

so that those on the margins would not be forgotten.

That's still God's calling to the church. So

let's continue to prioritize welcome as a church

community here at Trinity. Well, as we come to

the end, maybe the question this morning isn't

simply, am I a generous person? Most of us, I

think, should do and would like to answer yes.

The deeper question I want to leave you with

is, what have I intentionally built into the

design of my life? Or have I harvested everything?

God asks each one of us to leave something, something

unclaimed, something available, or something

that in God's hand can become grace for someone

else. As I close, there's one particular memory

from my years at World Vision that keep coming

back to me. I was in northern Mali on the edge

of the Sahara Desert. This is the village of

Menaka. It's surrounded by sand dunes. The homes

are all built by mud and sand. People survive

there by raising a few camels, maybe coaxing

enough food from tiny plots of land to keep their

families alive. Everyone was vulnerable, but

during that visit, the rains had largely failed.

And so it was a real crisis. But one family that

I met during that visit lived even further out

on the margins. Just beyond the edge of town,

I met a grandmother caring for her young grandson.

She and her son, you see him there, had built

this crude lean -to out of fabric. There was

scorching heat, sand blowing through the air,

wind, relentless. It didn't offer a lot of protection.

She told me that they had had to leave their

settlement farther out in the Sahel because they

simply couldn't survive there any longer. But

life for them near the town wasn't that much

easier. Food was desperately scarce. And then

she described how she fed her grandson. Each

day, she would sift through the sand, searching

for individual kernels of grain that had blown

from other people's storehouses. grain that had

been scattered by the wind, grain almost too

small to notice, grain that even for other vulnerable

people, they would almost never miss. She was

literally gleaning in the sand. Whenever I read

the story of Ruth, I think about that grandmother.

Like Ruth, she was doing everything that she

could to care for someone she loved. Like Ruth,

she was living on the edge of survival, dependent

on what others had left behind. Now, this story

actually has a happy, hopeful ending. At the

time, through World Vision, we were able to connect

her family to an emergency food program. And

through the generosity of people in Canada, supported

by both individual donors and the government,

grain, oil, and powdered milk found their way

to that little shelter in the desert. By the

way, that included grain from the Canadian Foods

Grains Banks that Rob's dad had mentioned. In

a sense, in this moment, the field... was in

Canada. But the gleaning happened in Mali. People

here had intentionally left room in their harvest

so that someone else on the other side of the

world could live. And that's what this passage

is teaching us all along. We all have a field.

For some, it's a business. For others, it's a

profession, a pension, a home, a kitchen table,

a network of relationships, years of experience,

or simply the people that God has entrusted to

our care. God doesn't ask each of us to leave

the same thing. Our fields are different. Our

seasons are different. But he does ask each one

of us to leave something, to leave room, room

in our budgets, Room in our calendars. Room in

our homes. Room in our attention and our influence.

Room in our lives. And imagine what would it

look like if every follower of Jesus lived that

way. Homes with room around the table. Calendars

with room for interruptions. Churches like this

one with room for strangers. Lives where no one

at the edges is forgotten. Remember that simple

command in Deuteronomy? Don't go back. Don't

go back to every forgotten sheaf. Don't go back

to every last olive. Don't go back for every

grape. Leave room. And when we apply it here,

that's important because sometimes that the space

God asks us to leave at the edges of our lives

can become the grace that someone else has been

praying for. Amen. Thank you.