If you think you cannot afford to give from your surplus, then sometimes sacrifice and give from your poverty

«If you think you cannot afford to give from your surplus, then sometimes sacrifice and give from your poverty.»

One of the lessons I have had to learn as I have grown older is that love needs boundaries.

I used to be overly generous. I sometimes gave too much, helped too much, and allowed compassion to override wisdom. Eventually I learned that we have legitimate responsibilities to ourselves and to the people closest to us. We cannot continually pour ourselves out without limits.

But there is a danger in the other direction.

When we discover boundaries, we can overcorrect. We can become so concerned with protecting our money, time, energy, and emotional well-being that we gradually become insulated from other people’s needs.

The boundary that was meant to make love sustainable can become a wall that prevents love from reaching anyone.

Perhaps one of the purposes of this life is to learn relational virtues: love, forgiveness, generosity, compassion, patience, courage, humility—and yes, boundaries. The goal is neither unlimited self-sacrifice nor radical self-protection. It is right relationship.

Sometimes love says, “No.”

Sometimes love says, “Yes, even though this costs me something.”

Surplus and sacrifice

Jesus sometimes spoke with startling radicalism. When the rich young ruler asked what he needed to do, Jesus told him to sell what he possessed, give to the poor, and follow him. Christians have long debated how literally this applies to everyone. Most traditions recognize legitimate responsibilities to family and personal stewardship, rather than requiring everyone to give away everything.

But the story still makes an important point: our possessions are supposed to serve love; love is not supposed to serve our possessions.

Jesus’ story of the poor widow makes this even clearer. She gives two small coins, and Jesus says she has given more than those who contributed from their abundance because she gave from her poverty.

The point isn’t that poverty is good or that we should become financially irresponsible. It is that generosity cannot be measured only by the amount given. Sacrifice matters.

St. John Chrysostom similarly warned that the problem with wealth is not simply possessing it but becoming possessed by it. The Eastern Christian and Desert Father traditions repeatedly emphasize freedom from attachment: possessions can become spiritually dangerous when our security, identity, and happiness depend upon them.

But this does not mean every Christian must live without possessions.

It means we should be able to possess without being possessed.

Boundaries without callousness

A mature person therefore needs both generosity and boundaries.

Boundaries tell us:

«”I am not responsible for everything.”»

Generosity answers:

«”But I am responsible for something.”»

We do not have to solve every problem or respond to every request. Sometimes saying no is the loving thing. Sometimes rescuing people actually prevents them from becoming stronger.

But we can also play mind games with ourselves:

I already give.

I already volunteer.

I have my own responsibilities.

Someone else can help.

All of those statements can be true—and still become excuses.

The important question is:

Is there a particular need in front of me that I could respond to if I were willing to sacrifice something?

If the need is immediate and important, perhaps the answer is occasionally yes.

That does not mean destroying our financial security. It means being willing, sometimes, to make a real sacrifice rather than insisting that generosity must always come from whatever we do not need.

Happiness, meaning, and giving

This also fits what we are learning about human happiness.

Arthur Brooks describes happiness through enjoyment, satisfaction, and meaning, with meaning involving coherence, purpose, and significance. A comfortable life can provide enjoyment and satisfaction while still leaving us asking what our lives are actually for.

Meaning requires something beyond ourselves to matter.

Family, friendship, faith, vocation, creativity, service—all can provide that larger purpose.

This helps explain a paradox: sacrifice can sometimes contribute to deeper happiness. Not because suffering is inherently good, but because a meaningful life necessarily involves giving ourselves to something we value more than immediate comfort.

The question changes from:

«”How can I make my life as comfortable as possible?”»

to:

«”What is worth giving part of my life for?”»

NDEs and the movement toward love

There is an interesting parallel in near-death experience research.

 researchers have documented that some people who report NDEs experience lasting changes in values, including greater compassion, altruism, spirituality, and reduced attachment to material success.

Whatever ultimately explains these experiences, the transformation is worth noticing.

People sometimes come away with a stronger sense that love and relationships matter more than possessions and status.

That sounds remarkably similar to the wisdom found in Christianity.

The Christian story begins with gift: creation is gift, grace is gift, Christ gives himself, and Christians are told, “Freely you have received; freely give.”

The goal is therefore not simply to become people who donate money.

It is to become people whose lives themselves become gifts.

The Desert Fathers, Merton, and the true self

The Desert Fathers understood spiritual growth largely as freedom from disordered attachment. Thomas Merton later explored something similar through his distinction between the false self and the deeper self found in God.

The less we need possessions, status, control, and comfort to establish our identity, the more freely we can love.

This is where contemplation and service meet.

We don’t serve merely to prove that we are good people. We serve because another human being is there. We see them, recognize their dignity, and respond.

how easily I could construct perfectly reasonable arguments for why I didn’t need to sacrifice anything.

Sometimes those arguments are wisdom.

Sometimes they are simply sophisticated ways of saying:

«”I don’t want this to cost me anything.”»

That is a question worth asking ourselves.

Give from your poverty

So I have come to think there are two kinds of generosity.

Give from your surplus.

This is the normal and sustainable pattern. Take care of your legitimate responsibilities, maintain reasonable security, and give generously from what you can spare.

But sometimes:

Give from your poverty.

Not necessarily literal financial poverty. Give from the part of life you would rather keep for yourself.

Give time when you’re busy.

Give attention when you’d rather be distracted.

Give forgiveness when you’d rather remain angry.

Give expertise when walking away would be easier.

And occasionally, when someone has an immediate and genuinely important need, make a financial sacrifice.

Not every need is ours to solve. Not every request deserves a yes. But we should not allow the legitimate discovery of boundaries to become an excuse for indifference.

The mature question is not simply, “Should I give?” or “Should I protect myself?”

It is:

«”What does love require here?”»

Sometimes love requires a boundary.

Sometimes it requires generosity.

Sometimes it requires sacrifice.

Wisdom is learning the difference.

Perhaps that is part of what we are here to learn: not merely how to accumulate, protect, and survive, but how to become people capable of loving wisely.

So give from your surplus when you can.

But when love truly calls for sacrifice, don’t be afraid to give from your poverty.

Because the deepest question may not be how much we managed to keep.

It may be what kind of people we became while we were here.