"Shaping a Theology of Money" by David P. King
Religion and money? Throw in politics, and you have everything your parents told you not to talk about.
Yet the topics shouldn't be off-putting. In fact, a theology of money is central to our individual spiritual formation, the health of our institutions and the way we participate in God's mission in the world.
But we need to change the conversation.
Most faith-and-finance conversations focus on needs -- the assumption that something is missing. In our families, congregations and institutions, we are searching for solutions to scarcity: how to curb our spending, meet the material needs in our communities or raise enough money to balance our budgets.
But what if that approach takes us in the wrong direction?
According to social policy expert John McKnight, "You don't know what you need until you know what you have." As a leading proponent of asset-based community development (ABCD), McKnight suggests flipping the script when trying to work for change in communities: start by discovering the assets, gifts and resources in a community, rather than focusing on what people lack.
Instead of bemoaning what is missing, take stock of what you have. That's the recipe for change.
Every community, no matter how impoverished, has institutions and resources. The people who live there have gifts, talents and enthusiasms. If we start with these assets instead of needs, we see the community in a different way. Then we can join others to capitalize on these assets to work for community change.
What if we followed the same advice for when we address faith and finances? Instead of determining what we need or lack, we might focus on what God has already entrusted to us. What comes to mind?
In our first attempts, we might default to material assets: budgets, buildings, endowments. But if we take a second look, we can appreciate the nonmaterial assets.
Our vision and mission are also assets; they keep us fixed on our goals and keep us from wandering off course.
What about human capital (knowledge, skills, resources, commitment, values)? What about social capital (community networks, partnerships, traditions)? For many of our organizations, the stories of transformed individuals or communities are among our richest resources.
Read more »
MONEY, STEWARDSHIP & FUNDRAISING, THEOLOGICAL REFLECTION
David P. King: Shaping a theology of money
Sarah Killingsworth, left, hugs Mary Ann Slinn, welcoming her to her home for a meal to discuss entrepreneurship. As part of community outreach, members of Broadway United Methodist Church in Indianapolis meet with neighbors for meals and conversation.
Photo by Kelly WilkinsonReligious institutions need not live out of a scarcity mindset. Our religious communities are full of the necessary assets to cultivate a culture of generosity, writes David P. King, the Karen Lake Buttrey Director of Lake Institute on Faith & Giving.
Religion and money? Throw in politics, and you have everything your parents told you not to talk about.
Yet the topics shouldn’t be off-putting. In fact, a theology of money is central to our individual spiritual formation, the health of our institutions and the way we participate in God’s mission in the world.
But we need to change the conversation.
Most faith-and-finance conversations focus on needs -- the assumption that something is missing. In our families, congregations and institutions, we are searching for solutions to scarcity: how to curb our spending, meet the material needs in our communities or raise enough money to balance our budgets.
But what if that approach takes us in the wrong direction?
According to social policy expert John McKnight, “You don’t know what you need until you know what you have.” As a leading proponent of asset-based community development (ABCD), McKnight suggests flipping the script when trying to work for change in communities: start by discovering the assets, gifts and resources in a community, rather than focusing on what people lack.
Instead of bemoaning what is missing, take stock of what you have. That’s the recipe for change.
Every community, no matter how impoverished, has institutions and resources. The people who live there have gifts, talents and enthusiasms. If we start with these assets instead of needs, we see the community in a different way. Then we can join others to capitalize on these assets to work for community change.
What if we followed the same advice for when we address faith and finances?
Instead of determining what we need or lack, we might focus on what God has already entrusted to us. What comes to mind?
While we each must shape our own theology of money, at the core is our response of gratitude to God’s generosity. At stake is who God is: God is generous, gracious, loving and merciful.
In our first attempts, we might default to material assets: budgets, buildings, endowments. But if we take a second look, we can appreciate the nonmaterial assets.
Our vision and mission are also assets; they keep us fixed on our goals and keep us from wandering off course.
What about human capital (knowledge, skills, resources, commitment, values)? What about social capital (community networks, partnerships, traditions)? For many of our organizations, the stories of transformed individuals or communities are among our richest resources.
At Broadway United Methodist Church in Indianapolis, for example, traditional helping ministries were closed down and a “roving listener” was hired to go out into the neighborhood and see what people were doing there and then help connect them to the church.
An asset-based approach fits perfectly with a biblical concept of stewardship. It’s a helpful tool in analyzing an organization or community, but it is more than a technique. It can also be a way of seeing the world.
When we talk about the way we see the world around us, we are speaking theological language. This is essential to note when shaping a theology of money.
Too often when we talk about money, we ignore theological resources. For our personal finances, we turn to accountants or financial planners. In our religious institutions, we rely on professional fundraisers or capital campaign consultants.
There is much to learn and gain from all these professions, but we cannot forget that our relationship to money is an issue of religious practice and practical theology.
At Lake Institute on Faith & Giving(link is external), we offer practical tools of religious fundraising(link is external), but we first help faith leaders address issues of money theologically. Most are eager to make the shift with us, but it remains a foreign way of thinking. Many people of faith approach the topic of money with anxiety.
Religious leaders are uncomfortable and uncertain in discussing the subject, so the church often ignores and abdicates our theology of money to the culture around us. That is dangerous. Our relationship with money says much about who God is, what God provides us, and how God invites and enables us to respond.
While we each must shape our own theology of money, at the core is our response of gratitude to God’s generosity. At stake is who God is: God is generous, gracious, loving and merciful.
A Christian’s life of faith is rooted in and shaped by grateful response to God’s generosity. How we understand and live in relation to money and possessions is dependent on how we understand, live into and participate in the “abundant life” that God provides.
A theology of money, then, is not simply a fundraising technique, a stewardship sermon or a collection of doctrines. It is a way of seeing the world.
Our relationship with money serves as a witness to who God is and what God calls us to as faithful Christians. Responding to God’s generosity leads us to participate in God’s generosity toward others. And that generosity is best practiced in community.
If forced to rely only on our power, we will inevitably fall short. But if we see ourselves as a part of something bigger (local communities of faith as well as God’s overarching work in the world), then we can have confidence in the abundance God promises.
This does not mean relying on the power of positive thinking. As Duke Divinity School research professor and practical theologian Craig Dykstra has said, “life abundant” is not the same as an abundant lifestyle.
If our theology of money is the way we see the world, it is also the way we live in this world. This way of living is a spiritual practice, and it is a practice we have to cultivate over time.
For too long, religious institutions have viewed money as a means to an end -- raising resources for our mission. For too long, religious leaders have avoided addressing the fact that how we spend our money is directly related to how we live our life of faith.
Religious institutions need not live out of a scarcity mindset. Our religious communities are full of the necessary assets to cultivate a culture of generosity.
It is the practices, the stories, the relationships, the mission and our eschatological hope that make generosity possible. If we nurture these assets, not simply as tools for fundraising success, but rather as the foundations for a theology of money, then the church has all the assets it needs.
This essay was produced in partnership with the Lake Institute On Faith & Giving(link is external).
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Monday, January 11, 2016
Discovering the Other is an introduction to two tools that community builders have found helpful: appreciative inquiry and asset mapping. These tools help congregations see that all of life is saturated by the sacred and give them energy to begin living as if it were so. Instead of asking, 'What's wrong?' appreciative inquiry asks, 'What's right?' Asset mapping asks, 'What resources do you have personally that we could bring to our future together?' Out of these questions can arise a sense that every congregation is rich in history, people, and resources.
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"Finding Your Fundraising Voice" by Dan Hotchkiss
"How can we persuade people to give more?" Not surprisingly, this is one of the most frequent questions I encounter in my work as a congregational consultant. Whether I'm consulting mainly on strategic planning, governance change, or growth plans (I rarely come in as a fundraiser any more), clients always want to raise more money.
One way to respond to such questions is by teaching better fundraising techniques. Most congregations approach their donors so haphazardly that any of a dozen practical ideas, applied with diligence, will increase results substantially. Even contradictory ideas work: if you've tried to do the Every Member Canvass for a few years, Consecration Sunday may give you a quick 10- or 20-percent bump-and vice versa. There's nothing wrong with that! Even slightly increased giving raises morale, eases stress for leaders, and creates planning options.
Better giving also has spiritual benefits: donors, reflecting on their increased generosity, decide they must be more religious than they previously thought. If only to reduce cognitive dissonance, they start thinking and behaving more religiously. Go ahead: find and use some fresh fundraising techniques.
Techniques, though, can take you only so far. New fund-raising methods, like new exercise and diet programs, often produce results for a while, and then give way to a relapse. It's hard, without a deeper change, to keep them up.
Read more »
"Finding Your Fundraising Voice"“How can we persuade people to give more?” Not surprisingly, this is one of the most frequent questions I encounter in my work as a congregational consultant. Whether I’m consulting mainly on strategic planning, governance change, or growth plans (I rarely come in as a fundraiser any more), clients always want to raise more money.
One way to respond to such questions is by teaching better fundraising techniques. Most congregations approach their donors so haphazardly that any of a dozen practical ideas, applied with diligence, will increase results substantially. Even contradictory ideas work: if you’ve tried to do the Every Member Canvass for a few years, Consecration Sunday may give you a quick 10- or 20-percent bump—and vice versa. There’s nothing wrong with that! Even slightly increased giving raises morale, eases stress for leaders, and creates planning options.
Better giving also has spiritual benefits: donors, reflecting on their increased generosity, decide they must be more religious than they previously thought. If only to reduce cognitive dissonance, they start thinking and behaving more religiously. Go ahead: find and use some fresh fundraising techniques.
Techniques, though, can take you only so far. New fund-raising methods, like new exercise and diet programs, often produce results for a while, and then give way to a relapse. It’s hard, without a deeper change, to keep them up.
Lasting change requires a dive into the psychology of faith to look at deeper motivations. Guilt once was a prime inducement to financial giving, and it still works with some people. But most nongivers born since 1945 see nothing to feel guilty about: the sense of obligation to support congregations simply isn’t there.
Today, speaking about the joy and other benefits that come with generous giving usually works better. Generous people actually are happier than stingy ones, so it’s possible to convince people to be quite generous out of motives that are basically selfish. To the extent that you are talking to a sanctuary full of people who already have a strong commitment to your congregation, conversation on the spiritual rewards of giving can be fruitful—for both givers and the treasury.
The catch, though, is that you probably are not talking to a sanctuary full of people with a strong commitment to your congregation. You are more likely talking to a motley crowd of people, each with many loyalties and obligations, each with more ideas about what to do with money than money. I’m not talking about selfish pleasures—we don’t even need to go there. I’m talking about worthy goals like putting children through college, caring for parents, and preparing for retirement. Each of us is aware of many worthy opportunities for major gifts: our beloved college, the hospice that cared for a dying parent, or the art museum, symphony or theater that elevates our hearts and souls. (And did I mention selfish pleasures? Those too.)
To inspire people to give more, we need to look beyond technique, beyond the motivations of potential donors, and take a hard look at ourselves and at the institutions that we lead. Congregations compete for gifts with worthy charities, as well as sellers of enticing goods and services. Our competitors have become sophisticated at collecting and processing information, utilizing paid and volunteer fund raisers, and maintaining positive relationships with donors—particularly large donors.
Meanwhile, most congregations do what we have done since the invention of the “stewardship pledge drive” in the 1890s. When congregations ask for money, several well-established notions get in the way, all of which distort our mental picture of our institution and its relationship to donors:
Everyone agrees that religious institutions merit support. Even in Southern and Midwestern towns where “everybody” goes to church, hardly anybody feels an obligation any more to support your church if they prefer another. In most places, non-affiliation has become a reputable option. Congregations need to make their case before a skeptical public that gives no church or synagogue a free pass.
People give as individuals. Even leaders who can usually “see systems” still imagine that people sign their checks and pledge cards in a vacuum, out of strictly personal values and beliefs. Giving is a social act. It matters a great deal who asks, who knows, and how much others give. The single most powerful motivation for giving—as secular fundraisers know—is the desire to pull one’s weight with a peer group. Saying “The Bible says we ought to tithe” has little impact, but if you can say, “Each of our top leaders has pledged to give 5% of his or her gross income to the congregation and 5% to other charities” can make an enormous difference to a congregation’s giving. The specific numbers matter less than the leadership example.
People all think about their giving the same way. Some religious leaders know this should be true, and I won’t try to argue with them. But unless your congregation is extremely stable—or, in other words, is slowly dying—then you have some people who just walked into the door, including some potential major donors who may never join as members, as well as many who are long schooled in the congregation’s current attitude toward giving. Sending them all the same letter, the same canvasser, the same pitch, and the same “table of percentages” can only reinforce the sense that—at least where giving is concerned, you don’t know them.
People give to vision, not to budgets. There is, of course, a grain of truth in this: treasurers who stand up and intone the budget, line by line, inspire no one. On the other hand, a congregation generally can raise more money for a building project than the annual campaign. Donors pay attention to the size of the vision—as measured in dollars—when they decide the size of their gifts. This point is especially important for the congregation with a “large” endowment. An endowment seems large only in comparison to a small vision, and there is no clearer indicator of a vision’s size than the budget it produces. So yes—people give to vision. But how much they give depends upon the size of the vision as expressed in the budget, and on how well leaders connect one to the other.
In short, to get people to give more money, a congregation has to step up to its place in a newly competitive fundraising marketplace. The governing board and senior clergy articulate a clear and distinctive vision—not as an occasional exercise, but as a central year-round task. Clergy and lay leaders build relationships with potential donors as donors all the time. Asking for money, thanking donors, and asking for more money become regular parts of congregational life, just like asking for and thanking volunteers.
The congregation that succeeds in today’s fundraising marketplace makes the case that the specific good it does deserves support from all who hear its strong fundraising voice—which then it uses well and often.
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The Executive Certificate in Religious Fundraising: Cultivating a Mindset of Generosity
A mindset of generosity encourages seeing everyone - donors, members, clients, staff, friends - as people with all kinds of gifts to share. Money is only one part of the equation.
Raising money feels like a never-ending challenge for all leaders, from program directors to senior pastors and presidents. The Executive Certificate in Religious Fundraising, designed by Lake Institute on Faith & Giving, explores how to cultivate a spirit of generosity within a community of faith. It is designed for pastors, judicatory executives, clergy, development leaders of faith-based organizations and all people of faith who wish to learn more about the spirituality of fundraising and gain a core foundation in fundraising principles.
The certificate program includes an intensive four-day retreat, required readings, an online peer community and a final project designed to fit the needs of participants. Topics covered include:
Nurturing generous congregations and organizations
Nurturing generous donors
Fundraising as ministry
Shaping a theology of moneyFor more information about the program »
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How to Conflict-Proof Your Congregation
A Church Network Teleweb with David Brubaker
January 14 | 2:30 p.m. EDT
How can congregational leaders make needed changes without incurring wrenching conflict?
If we want to be successful in our efforts to transform our congregations we will never attempt to do it alone, we will set an invitational tone, we will take the time to learn the system, and we will nest our community's need for change in the sacred stories of our own religious tradition.
Each of those is a delicate and difficult leadership challenge. Join Alban author and scholar David Brubaker for a practical webinar that will discuss ways of doing this work faithfully and well.
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