The Shape of Giving
“He made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death— even death on a cross!” – Philippians 2:7-8 (NIV)
Each week, a young friend, Frank, drops a new podcast in which he reads a children's book. Last week’s was The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein. Though I read it to our boys long ago, the message of sacrificial giving—the kind of love that gives without keeping score—resonated anew.
If you haven’t read it, it’s a love story between a tree and a boy. As the boy grows into a man, the tree is always there trying to fill his desires: a place to play, apples, branches, trunk — whatever he thinks he needs, the tree gives. The tree’s giving is not perfect — it can be depleted, and it cannot transform the boy — yet its posture of open, self‑emptying love still echoes something familiar to us as people of faith.
Paul writes that Christ, “being made in human likeness,” humbled himself. He did not cling to privilege or power. He did not protect himself from the cost of love. Instead, he offered himself — choosing obedience, choosing vulnerability, choosing the cross — another tree. Christ’s love for us is not merely symbolic; it is embodied, costly, and freely given.
Like the boy in the story, we come to God with our needs, our hopes, our weariness, and sometimes our forgetfulness of all that God has already done for us. And like the tree, Christ meets us with a love that gives itself away — not because we deserve it, but because that is the nature of grace.
At the end of the story, the boy — now an old man — returns. He can no longer play or climb; he simply needs a place to rest. And the tree, worn down but still present, offers what it can: a place to sit quietly in a place that has brought joy.
Christ offers us more than a stump to rest on. No matter how many times we come, no matter our weariness, he offers us himself — his presence, his mercy, his peace. When our striving is done, when our hands are empty, when our hearts are tired, Christ remains. His self‑giving love is never exhausted by our need; his grace continually renews us.
Gracious God, you emptied yourself in love for us. Teach us to see the depth of your giving, to trust the humility of Christ, and to rest in the grace that meets us when we have nothing left to offer. Shape our hearts by your self‑giving love, that we may reflect your generosity in the world. Amen.
Grace & Peace,
Pastor Tim




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