“Honor the LORD with your possessions, and with the first fruits of all your increase” (v. 9). This text indeed lends itself well to a Stewardship Sunday sermon, yet its reach extends far beyond a single moment in the Church Year. To honor the Lord isn’t simply to speak reverently of Him, but to order one’s whole life around Him—to acknowledge His primacy not only in worship and prayer, but also in the material realities of daily life, that is, our daily bread. The language of “first fruits” is deliberate. Israel offered the earliest and best of the harvest before storing anything for themselves, confessing in action what they believed in faith: Everything comes from the Lord, and therefore everything belongs to Him. Giving first is not loss; it is embodied gratitude.
To honor God with one’s possessions—whether abundant or modest—is an exercise not in futility but in trust. It trains the heart to rest not in income, savings, or security, but in God’s faithfulness. Such giving loosens the grip of fear and breaks the illusion of self-sufficiency. In a culture catechized by scarcity and anxious accumulation, generosity stands as a quiet defiance. It proclaims that the Lord is a giver, not a taker, and that provision flows form His mercy, not our control. When offerings are placed before the altar, they’re not merely financial transactions to provide for our pastor, church building, and works of mercy, but acts of worship—visible confessions that our lives, livelihoods, and futures are safely held in God’s hands.
“So your barns will be filled with plenty, and your vats will overflow with new wine” (v. 10). These words must be heard with theological care. They don’t endorse the heresy of the prosperity gospel, which reduces God to a mechanism of guaranteed financial return. Scripture never teaches that generosity obligates God to increase wealth, nor that material success is the measure of divine favor. Rather, this is wisdom literature speaking in the language of blessing. The promise isn’t excess for indulgence, but sufficiency for life. Often, the abundance God gives isn’t monetary at all, but the freedom that comes from contentment (e.g., living within your means), the peace that arises when anxiety loosens its hold, and the joy that accompanies a heart trained to trust.
The ultimate First Fruits, of course, is Christ Himself, raised form the dead as the beginning of the resurrection harvest yet to come (1 Corinthians 15:20). Because God the Father did not withhold His only-begotten Son, we are freed from clutching our possessions as though they were saviors. Our giving doesn’t purchase God’s favor; it reflects His generosity already given to us in Christ Jesus. Therefore, honoring the Lord with wealth isn’t about amounts or appearances, but about the heart’s orientation. It is faith made tangible. So let your stewardship speak. Let your giving bear witness to where your hope rests. Let your budget confess what your lips proclaim. And as you honor the Lord with what you’ve received, discover again that the richest gift He gives is not fuller barns or sweeter wine, but a heart at rest in His provision, and a life shaped by gratitude, freedom, and joy.
The Lutheran Column 