The most enduring sermon about giving in America was first heard in England during the 1740s. In the intervening years one generation of American preachers after another has offered the same exhortations – “Gain all you can.” “Save all you can.” “Give all you can.” They frequently “borrowed” those affirmations from John Wesley, though without always giving him credit or even knowing how radical the Methodist founder was in interpreting the famous three points.

Consider, for instance, the call to “save all you can.” Today, that maxim sounds like the predictable wisdom one finds in books about family finances or investment policy. But the English reformer had something else in mind besides saving accounts and the currently celebrated “miracle” of compound interest. His statement, plainly translated, means – spend as little as possible. Whenever possible, keep it until you give it away.

But if you think you must buy something, Wesley suggested, you should stop and “examine yourself by prayer.” “Try whether you can say to the Searcher of hearts, your conscience not condemning you: 'Lord, thou seest I am going to expend this sum on that food, apparel, furniture.'” In other words, draw a line between necessities and luxuries. The more we cut back on luxuries, the more we can give.

A tiny minority in every generation over the last two hundred years has found its way to the same conclusion: spend less, give more. An encounter with a member of that minority can be demanding, exhilarating – and yes, sometimes even unnerving. One such person in our time is Ronald J. Sider, author of Rich Christians in an Age of Hunger. “When I speak of rich Christians in an age of hunger,” Sider told a journalist in 1997, “I include myself. And I struggle with that. I mean, 1.3 billion people in the world today live on a dollar a day. So anybody with our incomes is incredibly rich.” “An age of hunger and poverty,” he concluded, “summons affluent people to a lower standard of living.”

For Sider and others of his persuasion, the conventional tithe or “proportionate” giving represent, at best, possible places to begin a long journey. But if people were content to stay with either option, then they have settled for half way measures. Neither one really challenges givers to change their life style in any dramatic way.

The tithing enthusiasts respond by saying something along these lines: the tithe – or even “proportionate” giving – at least offers a start. If people want to give more – fine. We’re interested in offering a realistic alternative in between “token” and “sacrificial” standards of giving.

It adds up to a familiar American story. There is a comfortable “middle way” – the tithers and the proportionate givers, in this instance – and then on the fringe, a few radical innovators whose message indirectly threatens the status quo and consequently frightens some folk and inspires others. Yet even the comfortable “middle” reformers scare some givers. And so it goes. The conflict of diverse understandings, anxieties and hopes continues unabated.