I've got a message notification on my phone this morning.
It comes from one of the child sponsorship apps I use, and no matter how many times I see it, it still feels like opening a small gift. A window into another life. Another story. Another reminder that sponsorship is never abstract, it always has a face.
One of the children I sponsor lives in Africa and speaks English, which means his letters arrive just as he writes them, no translation needed. Our conversations are simple and wonderfully ordinary. We compare seasons, his summer to my winter, and he once told me he had always assumed the weather was the same everywhere in the world. When I explained how seasons change across the globe, he thanked me for teaching him something new, which made me smile.
He likes hearing stories about our Husky and often asks for pictures. For Christmas, I sent an extra donation, and later he proudly sent photos of what he bought: new school clothes, neatly laid out and carefully chosen. In his letter he wrote that he couldn’t wait for school on Monday because he was, in his words, “going to look amazing.” His excitement was contagious.
Then there's a girl in Honduras. She wants to become a doctor. She studies hard, loves the Lord, and recently learned what may be one of life’s most important skills: how to bake chocolate chip cookies.
It brings me more joy than I can explain, this small, steady practice of helping children. And lately, I’ve begun to recognize something about myself that perhaps was obvious long ago: this is not just something I do. It is something I am called to do.
I love writing. I love serving the Lord. But when I look at where my heart consistently returns, where compassion feels most alive, it is always toward vulnerable children. God planted that calling in me years ago. I’ve walked in it imperfectly and sometimes slowly, but I’m finally seeing the bigger picture now.
God does not create identical servants with identical assignments. He creates people with different talents, different temperaments, different skills, different ways of seeing problems, and different channels of creativity. No two callings look exactly alike, and that is by design.
The things you are drawn toward are not accidents. The burdens you feel, the work that energizes you, the compassion that keeps tugging at your heart, these are often clues. They are threads God weaves into purpose.
Our abilities and passions were never meant to be stored away for personal success alone. Scripture reminds us again and again that our gifts are given not just for us, but for others. We are entrusted with knowledge, resources, creativity, and skill so they can flow outward.
Calling is not always about changing your zip code or crossing an ocean, though some are absolutely called to that, and I deeply admire those who go. But for many of us, calling looks like faithfulness right where we are. It looks like doing what we are already equipped to do, and doing it generously.
Generosity with our gifts shows up in more ways than we often realize. It is expressed in how we give our time, how we offer our skills, how we speak encouragement, how we share our resources, and how fully we give our attention to someone who needs to be seen and heard. These forms of giving don’t always make headlines, but they shape lives in steady, meaningful ways.
Sometimes generosity is dramatic and visible, but more often it is quiet and unseen. It happens in ordinary moments, a thoughtful message, a shared ability, a patient conversation, a faithful act of support. True generosity is less about scale and more about intention. It is a posture of the heart that asks, How can what I’ve been given become a blessing to someone else?
Generosity Begins With Awareness
Often, when I consider generosity, I think of the financial implications. But, true generosity often requires something more personal than just writing a check; it requires our time and attention. The children I sponsor need letters, not just funds. Friendships grow through conversation, not convenience. Presence is often the most meaningful gift we give.
When I began intentionally looking for God’s purpose in my daily interactions, I was surprised by what happened. Nearly every day, some conversation would naturally turn toward faith or encouragement. I wasn’t forcing it or initiating it; it simply surfaced as I listened, lingered, and made space to truly talk with people. Again and again I found myself thinking, This is why I’m here today. Not just to complete tasks, but to participate in spiritual encouragement, shared wisdom, or honest conversation.
Those moments had always been passing by me, but I hadn’t been noticing them. I was too focused on my plans, my lists, my pace.
Once we become aware of how God invites generosity into our daily spaces, it is eye-opening... and honestly, exciting. Because very often, the opportunities He places before us align with the gifts we already have. The generosity He asks for is frequently expressed through the strengths He has already built into us. We are not being asked to become someone else, only to become attentive to a need that might be placed in front of us.
Generosity Grows Through Consistency
Generosity grows not with just consistent giving, but with consistent presence. Faithful generosity is not only about what leaves our bank account; it is also about what occupies our calendar and our attention. Pairing financial generosity with personal involvement multiplies both the impact and the joy.
There is something powerful about seeing where a gift goes, how it helps, and who it touches. Watching the fruit of generosity, reading the letter back, hearing the story fuels the heart in a way detached giving sometimes doesn’t. Not because obedience isn’t enough, but because relationship deepens the experience. God doesn’t just invite us to fund compassion, He often invites us to participate in it.
I’ve started building consistency into my generosity by setting aside intentional time for it. For me, that’s Sunday. Not just as a day to give, but as a day to engage. It’s when I write letters to the children I sponsor, reach out to encourage a struggling friend, pray intentionally for specific needs, or look for a tangible way to serve someone. It’s generosity with presence, not just provision.
After starting this routine, I'm finding I look forward to that time. I’m wired to value structure, but this is more than structure. It’s anticipation. I begin to expect God to use those moments. I begin to enjoy the act of giving itself, the writing, the encouraging, the connecting, the caring.
Scripture tells us it is more blessed to give than to receive, and I don’t think it’s wrong to want to experience that blessing fully. Not as a transaction, but as a transformation. Consistent generosity doesn’t just meet needs, it shapes the giver. It trains our hearts to show up, not just send help.
Generosity Reshapes The Giver
About a month ago I was in the middle of one of my typical day, full schedule, full task list, moving quickly from one responsibility to the next. I was on a call that had already run longer than planned, and I could feel myself getting restless. I had more work waiting, more boxes to check, more forward motion to maintain.
Just as the meeting was ending, the other person paused and said, “I’ve been meaning to tell you, I started going to a new church.”
I knew immediately that this was a moment God had placed in front of me. An invitation to generosity, not with money, but with time and attention. I mentally pushed my next tasks aside and stayed on the call. I listened as she shared what had led her there, what she was learning, what she was wrestling with. The conversation mattered. Encouragement was given. Faith was strengthened. And none of it had been on my schedule.
As I’ve continued trying to watch for these moments, the interruptions that are really invitations, I’ve noticed something surprising: the person being changed most is me. My pace is different. My listening is deeper. My priorities are shifting.
Opportunities to serve in God’s kingdom are not burdens to complete, they are privileges to receive. They are not spiritual chores to check off a list. They are invitations into meaningful participation. Generosity does not just pass through our hands, it works on our hearts.
Scripture even tells us that giving can be a specific spiritual gifting. In Epistle to the Romans 12:8, Paul urges believers to think humbly about themselves and recognize that their faith and abilities come from God. He compares the church to a human body, many members with different functions, all belonging to one another in Christ. He lists examples: prophecy in proportion to faith, service in serving, teaching in teaching, exhortation in exhorting, giving in generosity, leadership with zeal, and acts of mercy with cheerfulness..
That tells me something important: generosity is not only a command, for some, it is also a calling. God uniquely wires people with a deeper pull toward meeting needs, supporting others, and resourcing the work of compassion. But whether generosity is our primary gift or simply our shared responsibility, the invitation is the same, to give with an open heart and a willing spirit. When generosity aligns with how God designed us, it doesn’t just feel like obedience, it feels like purpose.
But perhaps most surprisingly of all, generosity, when practiced faithfully, becomes joy. Not shallow happiness, but deep, steady joy rooted in alignment with God’s heart. The more we step into it, the more we recognize it for what it is: not merely something God asks from us, but something He lovingly builds within us.
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