“Money flows effortlessly to that which is its god.” – Tim Keller
“For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil.” -1 Timothy 6:10
In his book Enough: True Measures of Money, Business, and Life, John C. Bogle shares a story that I return to often.
“At a party on Shelter Island hosted by a billionaire hedge fund manager, author Kurt Vonnegut turned to his friend Joseph Heller, the writer of Catch-22, and said, “Joe, our host made more money yesterday than you’ve earned from your famous book over its entire history.”
Heller simply replied,
“Yes, but I have something he will never have… enough.”
That line pierces through the fog of comparison, envy, and cultural ambition like a dagger.
ENOUGH.
It’s a word our generation barely knows how to say anymore.
We scroll, swipe, click, and consume. Always more. Always better. Always next.
But if you never define enough, you will never be free.
And if you are never free, you will never be generous
C.S. Lewis understood this.
When his literary success began generating substantial income, he and his brother made a deliberate and countercultural decision not to elevate their lifestyle but expand their generosity. They established what became known as The Agape Fund, a private trust through which Lewis quietly directed nearly two-thirds of his royalties toward anonymous charitable giving.
They even infused the fund’s name with theological depth and wit, calling it “The Agapony”—a subtle inversion of the Greek word philargyria, translated in 1 Timothy 6:10 as “the love of money.” By replacing philos (affection rooted in self-interest) with agape (self-giving, sacrificial love), Lewis reframed wealth not as a source of corruption but as an opportunity for communion and grace.
Their conviction was simple yet radical:
If the love of money is the root of all kinds of evil,
then perhaps the love of generosity is the root of all kinds of good.
It’s not just a clever wordplay; it’s a prophetic reframing.
Imagine your life being driven by the love of generosity.
Imagine financial decisions shaped not by fear of lack, but by joy in blessing.
Imagine wealth not as status, but stewardship.
The Apostle Paul exhibited remarkable theological intentionality in how he spoke about financial generosity, particularly in his appeals to support the impoverished believers in Jerusalem. He didn’t reduce giving to a transactional act or an obligatory duty. Instead, he elevated it into a deeply spiritual practice, one that reflected the multifaceted nature of the gospel itself.
Rather than simply instructing the churches to “take up a collection,” Paul layered his language with rich theological nuance. In various epistles, he uses five distinct Greek terms to describe this act of giving, each one revealing a different facet of its spiritual significance:
Logeia — a collection (1 Corinthians 16:1–2). This is the most straightforward term, acknowledging the practical reality of gathering financial resources. But even here, it’s not mechanical; it assumes community participation and shared intent.
Eulogia — a blessing (2 Corinthians 9:5). Here, Paul frames giving not as loss, but as a bestowal of grace. The word echoes the Hebrew concept of berakah—a tangible manifestation of divine favor passed from one to another. Financial giving becomes an instrument through which the goodness of God is extended to others.
Leitourgia — a liturgical or priestly act (2 Corinthians 9:12; Romans 15:27). In using this word, Paul situates generosity within the realm of sacred worship. Just as priests in the temple offered sacrifices on behalf of the people, so the giver becomes a participant in spiritual service, offering not incense or animals, but material resources consecrated to the good of the Body.
Koinonia — fellowship or communion (Romans 15:26; 2 Corinthians 8:4; 9:13). Far from being a cold financial exchange, giving becomes an act of solidarity. It creates and reinforces relational bonds, expressing shared identity and mutual responsibility within the family of faith.
Diakonia — ministry or service (2 Corinthians 8:4; 9:1, 12–13). This word, often used for practical acts of care in the early church, underscores the idea that generosity is not peripheral to Christian ministry; it is ministry. The distribution of funds is as much a work of gospel mission as preaching or healing.
Taken together, these words reflect a theology in which generosity is not merely what we do with our money but who we are as the redeemed people of God. Giving becomes a lived expression of worship, communion, service, and blessing rooted not in compulsion but in communion with the One who gave Himself for us.
That’s stunning.
When you give—sacrificially, joyfully, intentionally—you are not simply paying a bill or transferring funds. You are blessing, worshiping, building fellowship, ministering, and offering priestly service to the Lord. You’re engaging in a form of sacred liturgy.
So, let’s say it again:
If the love of money is the root of all kinds of evil,
then maybe the love of generosity is the root of all kinds of good.
Money is not neutral. It flows with instinct and intensity.
As Tim Keller once put it, “Money flows effortlessly to that which is its god.”
For many, that god is security. For others, it’s status. For some, it’s the self.
But what if, for us, the god of our money was Yahweh, the generous, self-giving Father?
What if we didn’t have to be prodded or pressured to give, but we loved to give?
What if our budgets looked less like spreadsheets and more like liturgies?
Of course, not all giving is created equal.
Some give out of guilt.
Some give out of pressure.
Some give to control.
But Jesus was never in the business of guilt-based asking.
As one author puts it, “Giving out of guilt cannot sustain generosity. It only makes us ask: ‘How low does my lifestyle need to go to appease my conscience?’ It doesn’t liberate our hearts. It just rearranges our shame.”
Jesus never used guilt as a motivator. He used grace. The kind of grace He modelled throughout His whole life. “Though He was rich, for your sake He became poor, so that you through His poverty might become rich.” (2 Cor. 8:9)
This is why we give.
Not to appease guilt, but to echo grace.
Not to earn favor, but to extend the favor we’ve already received.
Guilt-based giving is reactive and short-lived.
Grace-based giving is intentional and transformational.
One gives in response to a need.
The other gives in response to a new nature.
We don’t give because we’re pressured.
We give because we’re free.
We give because we have enough.
We give because Jesus gave everything.
So, what would it look like for you to move from guilt to grace? Not just in theory, but in practice.
Here are a few suggestions:
Define “Enough”
Set a clear standard for sufficiency. Everything beyond that line?
Treat it as seed, not surplus.
Pick a Stretch Percentage
Choose a level of giving that stretches your faith, joyfully, not reluctantly.
Don’t wait to feel rich to start living generously.
Practice Secret Giving
Give in hidden ways that bypass applause and direct your reward toward heaven. It purifies the motive and deepens the joy.
Create an Agape Fund
Set aside money exclusively for kingdom generosity. Not for upgrades, just for impact. Start small and scale it up.
Train Your Heart to Love It
Ask God to form in you a joyful instinct to give, not under compulsion, but out of grace.
Imagine a generation of men so free, full, and joyful in Jesus that their generosity breaks cycles of greed, comparison, and fear. Men who look at wealth not with hunger in their eyes, but joy in their hands. Men who say (like Heller),
“I have something the billionaire will never have… enough.”
And those who go one step further…
“Because I have enough… I get to give.”
The world is aching for a generation of generous men.
Let’s show them it’s not only possible, but it’s actually the life that is truly life.
This article is a guest post from Jon Tyson. Subscribe to Jon Tyson’s Newsletter here if you enjoyed it.
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