Read:
“Bring the whole tithe into the storehouse, that there may be food in my house. Test me in this,” says the Lord Almighty, “and see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that there will not be room enough to store it.” — Malachi 3:10 (NIV)
In 1 Kings 17, a widow stood at the edge of despair. Her hands were nearly empty — just a little flour, a drop of oil, and the weight of hopelessness. She was preparing one last meal when Elijah appeared with a bold, almost impossible request:
“Make me a small loaf of bread first.”
First.
That word must have echoed through her fear. How could she give first when she barely had enough to survive? But somehow, faith rose up in her hunger — and she did. And in that moment of surrender, the miracle began. Her jar never ran dry.
This is the test of trust. Every time we give first — our time, our money, our energy — we declare that our security isn’t in what we hold, but in who holds us. Tithing isn’t about calculation; it’s about conviction. It’s not about numbers; it’s about alignment. Putting God first reorders everything else.
Giving is worship you can see. It’s faith with skin on — a quiet sermon that says, “God, I trust You more than I trust my plan.” Obedience precedes blessing. God doesn’t need what’s in our hands; He wants our hearts anchored to something eternal.
The widow’s story shows that God’s provision begins where our self-sufficiency ends. When we trust Him first, He proves—again and again—that His jar never runs empty.
Application:
Ask yourself — what would it look like to put God first in this area? Not with what’s left, but with what’s best. Trust always feels risky until you realize the Provider has never failed a promise.
Prayer:
Father, You are my source. Even when the jar looks empty, You are enough. Teach me to give first, not out of abundance but out of faith. Fill my heart with the joy of trusting You completely. Amen.
Read:
“His mother said to the servants, ‘Do whatever he tells you.’” — John 2:5 (NIV)
Before Jesus ever healed the sick or raised the dead, His first public miracle happened at an ordinary wedding. There was no spotlight, no crowd asking for proof—just a quiet crisis and a few empty jars. When the wine ran out, Mary didn’t panic. She turned to Jesus and said five words that still hold the key to blessing: “Do whatever He tells you.”
This is the essence of the “principle of first.” It’s obedience before outcome. God moves when we trust Him first, not when we understand Him fully. The servants at Cana didn’t argue or delay; they simply filled the jars with water—ordinary, common water. And that’s where the miracle began.
Faith always lives in that gap between God’s command and our comprehension. When we fill our “jars” in obedience—when we tithe before the bills are balanced, forgive before the apology comes, or serve before it feels convenient—we make space for God to turn the ordinary into the divine.
Josh Howerton puts it this way: “God blesses what we bring, but He can’t bless what we withhold.” The servants’ obedience didn’t just refill glasses; it revealed glory. John 2:11 says, “This, the first of His signs, Jesus did at Cana in Galilee, and manifested His glory; and His disciples believed in Him.” Every act of first obedience becomes an act of revelation—God showing Himself faithful through our surrender.
Application:
Where might God be asking you to obey first? Maybe it’s the first tenth, the first conversation, the first step of faith that seems too small to matter. Don’t wait until you see the outcome—fill the jar. The miracle always begins in motion, not understanding.
Prayer:
Jesus, teach me to obey quickly and fully. When I can’t see what You’re doing, help me trust who You are. May my obedience invite Your presence and reveal Your glory. Amen.
Read:
“When he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, ‘Put out into deep water, and let down the nets for a catch.’ Simon answered, ‘Master, we’ve worked hard all night and haven’t caught anything. But because you say so, I will let down the nets.’” — Luke 5:4–5 (NIV)
Peter was exhausted. He’d worked all night, done everything right, and had nothing to show for it. Then Jesus asked him to do the very thing he’d just failed at — cast his nets again. It didn’t make sense. But Peter’s next words changed everything: “Because You say so.”
That’s the heart of tithing — it’s our “Because You say so” moment. When God asks us to give the first tenth, it’s rarely convenient, and it almost never feels logical. But tithing isn’t about numbers; it’s about trust. It’s God’s invitation to test His faithfulness, not our math skills.
Tim Keller often reminds us that grace doesn’t just change why we give — it changes how we give. The gospel moves us from obligation to worship. We give not to get something from God, but because He’s already given us everything in Christ. When we put Him first in our finances, we’re not losing control — we’re acknowledging who’s really in control.
Obedience always precedes abundance. Peter’s boat didn’t overflow until he first pushed it back into deep waters. The miracle came after the obedience. And Josh Howerton puts it simply: “God can do more with the 90% you surrender than you can do with the 100% you keep.”
Every time we tithe, we throw our nets into deep water — trusting that God’s promise is still true. We don’t tithe because we can afford it; we tithe because we can’t afford not to live under His blessing.
Application:
If you’ve never trusted God with your finances, this is your “Because You say so” moment. Start today. Return the first tenth, not out of pressure, but out of faith. You’ll find that the same hands that filled Peter’s nets will fill your life with peace, provision, and joy that money can’t buy.
Prayer:
Lord, I want to live with open hands. Teach me to give before I see the results, to obey before I understand. I trust You with my finances, my future, and my faith. Because You say so, I will. Amen.
Read:
“Remember this: Whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows generously will also reap generously. Each of you should give what you have decided in your heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver.” — 2 Corinthians 9:6–7 (NIV)
Generosity is not God’s way of depleting you—it’s His way of freeing you.
Every time we give, something powerful shifts: fear loosens its grip, anxiety loses its voice, and faith begins to breathe again.
Most of us want to be generous, but we hesitate. We tell ourselves we’ll give when there’s more margin, more savings, more certainty. But God’s economy works upside down—the miracle starts the moment we release, not when we can afford it. The boy with five loaves and two fish didn’t wait for more bread; he placed what he had in Jesus’ hands, and watched it multiply beyond imagination.
When we give, we’re not losing—we’re partnering. We’re taking what’s temporary and investing it into eternity. We’re telling our souls that money makes a fine tool but a terrible master. True freedom doesn’t come from having more; it comes from trusting more.
Generosity breaks the lie that says, “If I give, I’ll have less.” The truth is, when you give, you step into a life where your peace is no longer tied to your paycheck. You begin to see that every dollar is an opportunity to declare, “God, You come first.”
Application:
Ask yourself—what would happen if I truly believed God’s promise to provide? Start small, but start. Give before you feel ready. Give before it makes sense. You’ll discover that freedom isn’t found in holding tighter—it’s found in letting go.
Prayer:
Lord, I don’t want to live afraid of not having enough. I want to live certain that You are enough. Teach me to give with joy, to trust with courage, and to find freedom in releasing what was never mine to keep. Amen.
Read:
“Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master’s happiness!” — Matthew 25:21 (NIV)
Every resource in your hands is a trust from God. Your paycheck, your house, your abilities, even your influence — none of it is random. God placed it there because He believes you can be faithful with it. That’s what stewardship is: recognizing that what you have is not yours to keep, but yours to manage for His glory.
In Jesus’ parable, one servant buried what he was given while the others invested it. The difference wasn’t the amount — it was the attitude. One saw the master as harsh and controlling; the others saw him as trustworthy and generous. The one who buried his gift wasn’t lazy as much as he was afraid. Fear always buries potential.
When it comes to our finances, the same truth applies. If we see God as scarce, we’ll cling tightly and hide what He’s given. But when we see Him as good, we’ll invest boldly and live open-handed. God blesses what’s surrendered, not what’s hoarded. When we place what we have in His hands, we’re not losing control — we’re finally giving it back to its rightful Owner.
True stewardship isn’t just about giving; it’s about aligning your heart with God’s mission. It’s about asking, “How can what I’ve been given make heaven more crowded?” When you see your resources through that lens, every dollar becomes sacred, every decision becomes eternal.
Application:
Don’t bury what God has placed in your hands. Use it. Give it. Multiply it. Whether it’s your finances, your influence, or your time — offer it back to Him and watch what He can do when you manage His blessings with faith instead of fear.
Prayer:
Lord, everything I have belongs to You. Help me to manage it with open hands and a willing heart. Replace my fear with faith and make me a steward who brings You joy. May my life echo the words, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” Amen.
Read:
“You will be enriched in every way so that you can be generous on every occasion, and through us your generosity will result in thanksgiving to God.” — 2 Corinthians 9:11 (NIV)
When your life is over, what story will your generosity tell?
Every act of giving writes a sentence in the legacy you leave behind — a legacy that echoes in heaven long after your name fades from the earth.
God doesn’t bless us so we can build bigger barns; He blesses us so we can build bigger bridges. When Paul wrote to the Corinthians, he reminded them that their generosity wasn’t just meeting needs — it was producing worship. Every gift was causing people they would never meet to lift their hands and thank God. That’s what giving does. It turns resources into rejoicing.
We’re not owners — we’re conduits. God enriches us not to increase our standard of living, but to increase our standard of giving. The moment we understand that, money loses its grip and generosity becomes joy. When grace takes root, giving becomes instinct. A heart transformed by the gospel doesn’t ask, “How much do I have to give?” It asks, “How much can I give away before I go?”
The truth is, legacy is not built by accumulation — it’s built by release.
When you give, you plant something that keeps growing even after you’re gone. The offering you give today may become the story someone tells about God’s faithfulness years from now. The life you bless may be the one God uses to reach a thousand more.
Application:
Generosity doesn’t end when the gift leaves your hands; it begins there. Live with eternity in mind. Give like someone who believes heaven keeps perfect records. Choose to live a life that makes others thank God you were here.
Prayer:
Lord, I want my life to count for something that lasts forever. Use what You’ve entrusted to me to reach people I’ll never meet. Let my giving become worship, my obedience become legacy, and my life point every heart back to You. Amen.
Read:
“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” — Matthew 11:28–30 (ESV)
When your head hits the pillow at night, what runs through your mind?
For me, it’s often a tangled mix of unfinished lists, quiet worries, and that sinking feeling that I should’ve done more. My body lies down, but my mind keeps racing.
It’s in those restless moments that I remember Jesus’ words: “Come to Me.” He doesn’t shout them; He whispers them—right into the noise of my overthinking and the heaviness I can’t seem to drop.
The Greek word Jesus uses for rest—anapausis—means more than a pause or nap. It means to be renewed, to recover strength, to breathe again. This isn’t a surface-level kind of rest; it’s the deep, soul-level kind that only happens when you stop carrying everything on your own.
Jesus doesn’t tell us to fix ourselves first or earn a break. He simply invites us to come. And the One doing the inviting is “gentle and lowly in heart.” That word lowliness means approachable—He’s not distant, disappointed, or unreachable. He’s the kind of Savior who kneels low enough to meet us in our exhaustion, right in the middle of our weariness.
When He talks about His “yoke,” He’s describing a tool used to connect two animals so they could share the weight of a load. He’s saying, “Let Me walk with you. Let Me carry what’s too heavy for you.”
We weren’t made to hold everything together. We were made to hold onto Him.
Rest isn’t what happens when life finally calms down—it’s what happens when we stop trying to carry it alone.
So today, whatever you’re holding—your stress, your grief, your exhaustion—bring it to Jesus.
Lay it down, and let Him lift it.
Application:
Find a quiet moment today. Take a slow breath and whisper, “Lord, I’m tired—but I’m here. Teach me how to rest in You.”
Prayer:
Jesus, You know how heavy my heart feels sometimes. I try to hold everything together, but You never asked me to. Draw me close today—quiet my thoughts, still my soul, and remind me that You’re near. Be my peace. Be my rest. Amen.
