Stonecrest Community Church - Warren, NJ

            Money.  There’s a topic that most people don’t feel very comfortable discussing.  Turn the discussion into a sermon in which the pastor challenges his congregation to give More Money (using detailed statistics to show that that very congregation is not giving Enough Money based on what he assumes they must be making in order to live in relative comfort) and you've upped the ante.

            I thought I’d hit on the sermon least likely to attract a newcomer last week.

            This past Sunday, January 16, I went to Stonecrest Community Church in Warren, NJ.  Located in an old business building originally home to a bank, the facility sprawls throughout two floors with plenty of space for prayer groups, Sunday school classes and any other communal needs.  I attended with my parents, who have gone a handful of times in the past.  If I had been alone or with anyone who hadn’t previously been to the church, it is likely that I would have been noticed and approached as a newcomer.  As it was, however, it is unfair for me to critique the church’s approach toward a newcomer except to observe what I think their method might have been. 

            At Stonecrest everyone wears a nametag. 

            A board is displayed right outside the sanctuary on which nametags of people who have visited (and the goal as I understand it is to find all newcomers) and those who regularly attend are attached.  The effect is that Stonecrest is the church where everybody knows your name… and what Sundays you do and do not attend.  I am unaware if people whose nametags are not removed for an extended period of time are contacted or whether or not they are eventually just not listed anymore.

            Service was scheduled to start at 11:00.  Worship songs probably started around this time (the band was playing when we arrived a little late) but there seemed to be no rush for anyone to be on time.  I explored the grounds of the building before entering the sanctuary and still stood through three worship songs.  The lights were turned almost completely down with only spotlights focused on the worship leaders.  Anyone entering at will could do so inconspicuously. 

            Then the music stopped and the lights went on.

             An associate pastor said a few words of greeting and introduced a young woman to speak in representation of First Choice Women's Resource Center.  By the end of her presentation I would guess that about half the room was in tears.  She used a personal anecdote about what got her started with First Choice in order to go through an explanation of what the center’s mission is and what the congregation could do to contribute.  This woman helped her best friend make the decision not to abort her accidental pregnancy.  She coached her through the embarrassment of disappointing her strictly conservative family by admitting her mistake.  She was there every step of the way. 

         

   Then she projected a picture of her best friend’s daughter, now four years old, onto the four large screens behind the stage.  “Can you imagine the world without this precious girl in it?” she asked.

            I honestly don’t remember exactly how Pastor Brent Haggerty segued from abortion to tithes.  He did second the woman’s motion for the congregation to become involved in the war against abortion in any way possible.  But the topic at hand was … Money.

            Malachi 3:6-10

            Why does God accuse the descendants of Jacob of robbing Him?  They were not tithing the commanded 10% of their income.

            Pastor Brent was one of the most charismatic pastors I’ve ever listened to.  He held my attention and did not let go.  He was convicted and it showed.

            He introduced the sermon by asking a fifth grade girl to come onto stage to participate in a demonstration.  They sat down at a small table with miniature chairs designed for her size and she warmed to Pastor Brent as he picked fun at himself for how silly he looked in his little chair.  Then he opened a bag of sour gummy bears and asked her if she knew how to share.  And upon her proud acknowledgement that she had, in fact, learned this skill from mommy and daddy, he asked her to demonstrate how she would share this bag of candy with him.  She divided the pile into what looked like two equal shares.  Pastor Brent helped her define that this method meant “one for you, one for me” then praised her warmly, told her how loved she was and sent her off with an entire bag of her own (to share or not share as she wished.)

            I suppose the type of person who can always predict the end of movies could predict the intent of this planted demonstration and how it would tie things together in the end.  But I’m not that type of person.  And being pleasantly surprised every time is better anyway … isn’t it?  Isn’t it?? 

            Anyway, I won’t go into the actual meat of the sermon.  I think the second demonstration at the miniature table, which acted as the sermon’s conclusion, summed everything up.

            This time an adult from the audience was called to participate in a demonstration.  Then two large men were squeezed into the little pink chairs.

            Pastor Brent asked his volunteer to be so kind as to allow him to play the part of God while this man played a mortal.  The man assented.  Pastor Brent pulled twenty single dollar bills from his pocket and said that He was going to share this wealth.  It came from Him.  It is His to share as He sees fit.  But in a voice saturated with loving generosity Pastor Brent laid one bill in front of himself.  “One for me.”  Then counted “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine for you.” 

God's Method of Sharing

            

          At one point the screens at the back of the stage projected the actual numbers of offerings collected from the church during 2010.  That is, the number of people that gave between such and such amount of dollars during that year.  (ie: 34 individual households or people gave between 1 and 2 thousand for the year.)  Pastor Brent pointed out very bluntly that he doubted anyone sitting in that room was surviving off only $10-20,000/year.  Especially combined income households.  He pointed which anonymous numbers he thought were tithing and those he thought were robbing God.  Although he wasn't being too harshly judgmental (despite the enormity of an accusation such as stealing from the Creator of the Universe) ... the numbers in black and white on the projector screens were enough to make me squirm.  And I'm The Newcomer.

            The challenge to stop skimping on tithing was very direct.  He told the congregation to “test God.”  For the next 8 weeks, test God.  Give exactly 10% and see God pour out “so much blessing that there will not be room enough to store it” (Malachi.)

            Concerns?  Yes, a few.  And what I didn’t mention before in relation to the church’s approach toward newcomers is that they did announce a meet and greet over coffee to be held in the lobby directly after the service.  Newcomers or people with any questions were invited to voice concerns there.  But while I should have attended this meeting I wanted to get home to finish a few things before work.

            What I would have asked would have been:

            Is it appropriate to “test God?”  If so, when?  In this particular verse in Malachi, God asks his people to test him but I vaguely recall another part of the Bible demanding that people NOT test God.

            Is there anywhere in the Bible that specifies where the 10% tithing should go?  Pastor Brent seemed to assume that those giving a small amount to the church were under-tithing.  Could they have been tithing to ministries such as First Choice in conjunction with their church offerings?

            For those who do live on a bare minimum yearly income, does the same rule apply?  Who takes the blame if there isn’t enough food?

            In what form do God’s blessings come and how can they be recognized as a direct result of tithing appropriately?

            Since I didn’t get to ask these questions I’ll just open them up to discussion.  I certainly have a hard time believing that anyone should feel obligated to give an exact percentage of their income in tithes or in any kind of charitable giving.  Giving is one of those things that ought to be entirely voluntary and subjective.  How else can it be special and hold meaning?  Giving ten percent because the Bible says so doesn't seem very much like accepting God's method of sharing but rather more like paying God for favors (see euphemism: blessings.)

    There are a few proverbs of Christianity that I have in my back pocket that seem to apply to every day life every time.  One of them has to do with giving.  It applies to our love.  It doesn't mean a thing without free will.  Of course it's implied that we do have the free will to give the whole ten percent or not.  But apparently we aren't given the free will and responsibility to calculate what we can afford to give and what we simply can't squeak by.

   One of the praise worshippers prayed after the last song.  In thanking God she said, "God you don't want our good deeds.  You don't want our stuff.  You don't want our Money.  You just want our hearts."

    Apparently she was wrong.  But I don't care.  I'm still more on board with her.  If God just took everyone's hearts ... he could see if people gave what they could.  He could judge them on a more personal basis.  Because if there IS a Christian God I don't want to think of him as an accountant.

   Anyone reading my post … put in your two cents.  Consider it an intellectual tithe.