Good morning.
I have a confession to make. I like good chocolate. I walk through the grocery aisle, I see that bag and I reach for it. I don’t check the price per ounce. I don’t do math. I just put it in the cart.
And I know I’m not alone, though it’s not chocolate for everyone; people have their own “thing.” Nice shampoo. Good coffee. Laundry detergent. And maybe for one or two of you, I suspect, good wine. (After all, we’re Episcopalians.)
Chocolate. It’s just something I love. I don’t overthink it.
But my love of chocolate stops short of being a good comparison for my love of Trinity. I pay for chocolate. It’s a transaction. It’s a purchase. I love this church BUT my pledge is not a transaction or a purchase. It’s not a Heaven Insurance policy. Pledging, stewardship – those are different.
I’ve been part of Trinity since the late nineties. After attending a few times, two older women of the church, known for their house calls (remember Mary Artis Dennis?) paid me a visit. We sipped lemonade, they told stories, they held my baby. And over time, slowly and gently, we became part of the church family. And the church became part of our family.
- Karen Tate was my daughter’s very first teacher in Godly Play. When Elizabeth set up her stuffed animals at home to play “School,” she offered each animal her sippy cup, saying “Cup of Salvation. Cup of Salvation. Cup of Salvation.”
- My daughter sang in the choir all through school. At the end of her first year, she was awarded Most Improved Chorister (though we haven’t had the courage to tell her that she started out so bad that no other child had as much room for improvement!). One day, my dad asked her if she knew the song Oh, Susannah and prompted “…come from Alabama with a banjo on my knee!.” She said “I don’t sing it that way, Poppi, I sing it, “Hosannah in the Highest! Hosannah in the Highest!””
As for me, I’ve served on the vestry under three different rectors. I’ve sat on search committees, stuffed easter eggs, I’ve traveled to Honduras, digging trenches and twisting rebar. I know how to run the Hobart dishwasher over in the kitchen. There have been weddings… and funerals… and baptisms. And through all of it, it never occurred to me to ask, “Am I getting my money’s worth?” Because what I’ve received here was never something I could have bought.
Giving to the church isn’t a purchase.
It isn’t a transaction.
It’s thanks.
Giving to the church is your expression of pure and simple gratitude for all the gifts.
In teaching Jr High Sunday school and youth group for ten years, in the days of J2A – “Journey to Adulthood” – the recurring theme through that curriculum was “We are made in God’s image.” Our time, our talents, our paychecks and resources: it all comes from God – everything was a gift before it was ever ours. And when students said, “yes, but we work hard for what we have, the conversation would eventually get to the realization that, “We were given the gift of being hard-working people.” Even then, and maybe especially then, the fitting response is still a grateful one.
So here’s the invitation that you’ve been expecting . Please prayerfully consider your pledge for the coming year, and turn in your card. Not so the church gets its money’s worth out of you and not because you think you’ll get your money’s worth out of the church, but as a faithful response to God’s generosity, and in thanks for this community, this mission, our faith, (our music,) and this holy place.
We all have “a thing” we reach for without overthinking; something that we love, like chocolate, that’s transactional.
But when you fill out your pledge card, be prayerful and honest. Then give gladly, full of hope and appreciation and gratitude.
Amen.
—Wendy Amato
October 18, 2026
