The "S" word

This Sunday we are going to be taking up a "first fruits" offering at our church. A first fruits offering symbolizes God’s harvest of souls, it illustrates giving to God from a grateful heart, and it sets a pattern of giving back to Him the first (and the best) of what He has given us.

We encourage you to bring a week's, month's or year's worth of your pledge to our "Moving Forward by Faith," campaign.

As I said last Sunday, I have been really proud of our church family, almost like a dad watching his son or daughter win an award.

It shows the quality of the folks who call Stone church home.

In the midst of a deep economic recession, our church family members have pledged almost 2 million dollars to help us relocate our church out to 183rd street.

My heart is warmed and encouraged by the response!

Well done!

Let me mention the "S" word as we go into Sunday and receive the offering (I believe it will be one of the largest in the history of our church).

The "S" word can be challenging but also rewarding.

The "S" word can be painful but also joyous.

The "S" word can cause us to pause and reflect but also to push on to greater things for God.

What is the "S" word?

Sacrifice.

We don't hear a lot about sacrifice in the 21st century, especially in our country.

To be candid with you, a lack of sacrifice is probably one of the greatest contributing factors in our country being where it is today economically.

We (as a country) have become complacent, greedy, always wanting more. Never satisfied.

I wonder sometimes if we really do believe that with Jesus, that is enough.

Yet, time and time again, I come across believers (some of which I mentioned in my teaching last Sunday) who ultimately do believe that Jesus is enough, that when all is said and done, all we have is God and His kingdom work in our lives.

I would suppose that going into the offering this Sunday that some will struggle with the typical excuses.

"We are too far in debt to give."
"We don't have the money right now - it just isn't a good time."
"We have kids in college, bills to pay, vacations to go on."

I understand all of that.

Yet, during these times of great challenge, God still calls us to press in and press on to greater things for him.

When we sow (as the Bible teaches us to do) we also reap.

That "sowing" process can sometimes be difficult. Painful. But if we don't hesitate, we will reap a great harvest, a harvest that will fill our hearts and emotions with true joy.

I encourage you to take the time to read the story below.....it says it all....

It's from an article based on a sermon by an Assemblies of God missionary by the name of Del Tarr who served 14 years in West Africa. His story points out the price some people pay to sow the seed of the gospel in hard soil.

After reading the story, ask yourself, "Am I willing to sacrifice so that others might come to know God?"

For you see, ultimately, when we give to things like the "Moving Forward by Faith," campaign, we are not giving to see brick and mortar go up, but to see people connect with Christ.

Del Tarr writes:

"I was always perplexed by Psalm 126 until I went to the Sahel, that vast stretch of savanna more than four thousand miles wide just under the Sahara Desert. In the Sahel, all the moisture comes in a four month period: May, June, July, and August. After that, not a drop of rain falls for eight months. The ground cracks from dryness, and so do your hands and feet. The winds of the Sahara pick up the dust and throw it thousands of feet into the air. It then comes slowly drifting across West Africa as a fine grit. It gets inside your mouth. It gets inside your watch and stops it. The year's food, of course, must all be grown in those four months. People grow sorghum or milo in small fields.

October and November...these are beautiful months. The granaries are full -- the harvest has come. People sing and dance. They eat two meals a day. The sorghum is ground between two stones to make flour and then a mush with the consistency of yesterday's Cream of Wheat. The sticky mush is eaten hot; they roll it into little balls between their fingers, drop it into a bit of sauce and then pop it into their mouths. The meal lies heavy on their stomachs so they can sleep.

December comes, and the granaries start to recede. Many families omit the morning meal.

Certainly by January not one family in fifty is still eating two meals a day.

By February, the evening meal diminishes.

The meal shrinks even more during March and children succumb to sickness. You don't stay well on half a meal a day.

April is the month that haunts my memory. In it you hear the babies crying in the twilight. Most of the days are passed with only an evening cup of gruel.

Then, inevitably, it happens. A six-or seven-year-old boy comes running to his father one day with sudden excitement. "Daddy! Daddy! We've got grain!" he shouts. "Son, you know we haven't had grain for weeks." "Yes, we have!" the boy insists. "Out in the hut where we keep the goats -- there's a leather sack hanging up on the wall -- I reached up and put my hand down in there -- Daddy, there's grain in there! Give it to Mommy so she can make flour, and tonight our tummies can sleep!"

The father stands motionless. "Son, we can't do that," he softly explains. "That's next year's seed grain. It's the only thing between us and starvation. We're waiting for the rains, and then we must use it." The rains finally arrive in May, and when they do the young boy watches as his father takes the sack from the wall and does the most unreasonable thing imaginable. Instead of feeding his desperately weakened family, he goes to the field and with tears streaming down his face, he takes the precious seed and throws it away. He scatters it in the dirt! Why? Because he believes in the harvest (Italics added).

The seed is his; he owns it. He can do anything with it he wants. The act of sowing it hurts so much that he cries. But as the African pastors say when they preach on Psalm 126, "Brother and sisters, this is God's law of the harvest. Don't expect to rejoice later on unless you have been willing to sow in tears." And I want to ask you: How much would it cost you to sow in tears? I don't mean just giving God something from your abundance, but finding a way to say, "I believe in the harvest, and therefore I will give what makes no sense. The world would call me unreasonable to do this -- but I must sow regardless, in order that I may someday celebrate with songs of joy."

May we give this Sunday knowing that in our sacrifice is great joy!