Seed time and harvest remind us of investment, trust, prayer, and expectation. However, connecting these ideas with Solomon’s words in Ecclesiastes 11 requires a spiritual exercise: “Send your bread upon the waters, for after many days you will get it back.”
In simple language, Solomon seems to be saying: What do you have to lose? Try something. Be intentional. Don’t be stingy. Invest in something. Give because it is the right thing to do. Others have lived this way and discovered that generosity bears fruit.
This mindset stands in stark contrast to the impulse to hoard—to hold tightly to what we have, to prepare only for our own rainy day, and to believe that success is found primarily in protecting ourselves.
Last week at the Six Presbytery Gathering sponsored by the Central and Western New York presbyteries, Dr. Andrew Root challenged some of our assumptions about happiness and the pursuit of a good life. Root drew on the work of the sixteenth-century French philosopher Michel de Montaigne, whom he identifies as an important figure in developing our modern understanding of the self and the pursuit of happiness. In his book Evangelism in an Age of Despair, Root argues that our relentless pursuit of happiness has paradoxically contributed to lives marked by anxiety, loneliness, and despair.
Root points out that our congregations are subtly catechized by an invisible cultural script—one that traces its lineage back to the sixteenth-century philosopher Michel de Montaigne. Facing a world torn apart by religious wars and political instability, Montaigne advocated for a radical inward turn. He famously described the possibility of becoming a “crowd unto yourself.”
This reference comes from Montaigne’s essay On Solitude, in which he writes of the soul’s ability to turn inward and keep itself company, quoting the ancient phrase, “In lonely places, be a crowd unto yourself.” That phrase has stayed with me. For Montaigne, this inward turn offered a way of preserving the self amid a world filled with uncertainty and conflict—shielding the interior self from external pain, managing emotional exposure, and cultivating personal independence.
Fast forward to today, and this philosophy shows up in the self-preserving instincts embedded in our culture. It is reflected in the language both weary congregants and leaders use every day.
What happens when the desire to protect ourselves from the pain, demands, and disappointments of the world becomes the dominant way we understand the good life? What happens when “protecting my peace” becomes more than a healthy practice of rest and boundaries and becomes a way of avoiding the vulnerability, sacrifice, and shared life to which Christ calls us?
This is where I see the invisible competitor—the cultural impulse toward self-preservation and the tension it can create with Christ’s call to generous, self-giving love.
Consider these three theological differences:
Interdependence vs. Isolation
Montaigne’s emphasis on the inward self can pull us toward tighter boundaries and greater self-sufficiency. Christ calls us in another direction. To be the Body of Christ means our lives are deeply connected. If one part suffers, every part suffers. Christian generosity isn’t an occasional transaction conducted from a safe, sterile distance; it is the radical sharing of one’s life within a vulnerable community. You cannot be a “crowd unto yourself” and fully bear your neighbor’s burdens.
Self-Giving vs. Self-Protection
Montaigne asks, How much of myself must I guard to remain happy?
Christ asks, How much of yourself are you willing to give away to love another?
The Gospel defines love through kenosis—the self-emptying love Christ modeled on the Cross.
True generosity is inherently disruptive. It requires a willingness to let our comfort, our finances, and our calendars be opened for the sake of others. It asks us to make room for the world’s needs and suffering. This does not mean that Christians should abandon healthy boundaries, rest, wisdom, or Sabbath. Jesus himself withdrew to pray. The question is not whether we should have boundaries; the question is what ultimately governs our lives. Are our boundaries helping us love faithfully, or have they become a way of keeping the needs of others permanently at a safe distance?
Transactional Relationships vs. Holy Presence
When individual happiness becomes the ultimate goal, other people can easily become utilities. We embrace relationships that fill our emotional cup and avoid those that drain it.
But Christ’s model of generosity is radically different. It pours out toward the poor, the broken, and the difficult—those who cannot pay us back. Jesus does not ask us only to love those who make our lives better. He calls us to become people whose lives make room for others.
That is a very different kind of generosity.
As leaders and congregations, this requires us to examine our ministry paradigms.
If we present the church primarily as a place that offers comfort, personal fulfillment, stress reduction, and strategies for a better life, we may unintentionally reinforce the very cultural script the Gospel challenges. The church becomes another consumer good—something that exists to make my life better. But the church is not simply a place where we come to receive.
The church is a people who have been gathered, formed, and sent.
We receive grace so that we can become gracious.
We experience God’s generosity so that we can become generous.
We are loved so that we can love.
We are fed so that we can feed others.
We are welcomed so that we can make room for others.
Perhaps the antidote to a culture of despair and isolation is not simply to tell people to “be more generous.” Perhaps we need to recover a different understanding of what it means to live a good and faithful life. Perhaps we need to redefine comfort. Perhaps comfort is not always the absence of disruption. Perhaps peace is not the absence of demands. Perhaps abundance is not measured by how much we can keep. Perhaps the abundant life Jesus offers is found, paradoxically, in the willingness to give ourselves away in love. And perhaps this is the invitation of seed time and harvest: to trust God enough to open our hands, invest in the lives of others, and give without knowing exactly what the harvest will be.
Thank you to the Geneva, Genesee Valley, Susquehanna Valley, Utica, and Western New York presbyteries for the invitation to the gathering. I learned a lot, and I am grateful for the opportunity to be part of the conversation.
Rev. Ashley
References: Andrew Root, Evangelism in an Age of Despair; Michel de Montaigne, “On Solitude.”
