I had an acquaintance years ago who, upon being granted a driver’s license, received from his parents the gift of a car.

A new Car.

A new Chevy Monte Carlo, which in that era was a pretty sporty beast with plenty of power.

I, as it happened, was driving around an eight-year-old grandma car with over 100,000 miles on loan from by parents, which I had to share with my brother. And I was grateful for that.

My acquaintance was not grateful. He had dropped enough hints to his folks that he wanted a Firebird (sportier, more powerful, etc.), which they were capable of affording, and the Monte Carlo was a serious let-down. No matter how much better it was than what I had to meet my needs, he was miserable.

Lest you are tempted to think I offer up this comparison to extol my superior virtue even during my young adulthood, you have to understand why I was so grateful for that dependable but unexciting vehicle.

In preparation for serving as a task force dean in a boarding academy four states away, I bought my first car, and it was a sight worse than the one on loan to me that summer. But my dad, who could not afford to buy me any kind of car, switched vehicles with me while I and my brother worked at summer camp, so he could get the repairs needed before I left. And, even as a callow youth, I was aware that a dad like that was worth more than a solid gold Rolls Royce.

My friend had high, and unrealized, expectations. I had low expectations which were exceeded without me even asking. The reactions we each had were more the product of expectations than of the quality we had received. There’s a good lesson in that.

I have to admit, even in the matter of stewardship, the Bible can pump up our expectations quite a bit. Ask, and it will be given to you … (Luke 11:9). Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap (Luke 6:38). ... see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that there will not be room enough to store it (Malachi 3:10).

All well and good. I do not doubt any of those promises for one second. What I do doubt, however, is our ability to be clear on what is and what is not promised. I previously explored this topic in an article for our online publication, the NewsNuggets, and pointed out that we make a mistake assuming that the blessings are always in the form of financial increases. I don’t want to plow over that same territory again, but I think we can take some time to consider that, even when we receive financial blessings, we have to be realistic in our expectations.

I still don’t have a Monte Carlo. In fact, my current vehicle, like most of its predecessors, has more in common with the full-size Chevy my dad loaned me all those years ago than with the hot rod my friend was outright given. But here is the financial blessing: I don’t owe anything on it! I never owed anything on it because I bought it for cash. The non-financial blessings (though financial adjacent, perhaps) of my faithful stewardship, taught to me by God-fearing, frugal parents, include reasonable expectations of what I should be driving (new means “new to me”), careful planning to be able to pay cash, knowing someone who deals in salvage vehicles, and probably others I haven’t realized yet.

In particular, I want to focus on the matter of managed expectations. Because yes, the Bible that holds out all these too-good-to-be-true promises, also talks about expectations.

I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength (Philippians 4:11-13).

When I read that passage, I get the feeling that Paul wasn’t just managing expectations; he seems to have done away with them entirely. He didn’t expect anything out of life. Whatever came along, that was cool.

You could make an argument that Job had trouble managing his expectations. He expected that God should explain everything to him about why it all went so wrong. Which, since God never did actually explain that, maybe he was expecting too much in that regard. But at the same time, no matter how much he lost, his philosophical approach to total financial ruin is the legendary phrase, Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked I shall depart. The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised (Job 1:21).

Moses could have had it all. Raised by his mother for the first few years, he was adopted into the royal family of Egypt, the most powerful nation on earth at the time, and trained in economics, warfare, philosophy, agriculture, architecture, and diplomacy. He was destined to rule. But ultimately, … when he had grown up, refused to be known as the son of Pharaoh’s daughter (Hebrews 11:24). He managed his expectations so well that he came to expect something entirely different, which was to lead his people out of the land that offered him everything. There were many bumps along the way, but he brought them there.

Paul was seemingly indifferent to financial circumstances. Job stayed grounded through gain, then loss, then gain. Moses turned his back on wealth in favor of something more permanent than even the pyramid that doubtless would have been his. What does all of that tell us about the blessings of learning to manage our financial expectations?

One of the most important mentors of my life, a man I still am in contact with, had a well-paying government job and three growing boys. When an offer that he did not seek came for him to be a Bible worker at literally a fourth of his salary, he was devastated, but knew that he was called. He and his wife sat their sons down and explained to them that daddy has an opportunity to serve the church, but it would mean giving up a lot. They wouldn’t get nice vacations, or as many meals out, or new clothes as often. The car would have to last longer, there would be fewer presents under the tree, and other things like that. When the truth was laid out, the youngest son simply asked, “But do you believe this is what God wants you to do?” When they responded that it was, he said, “Then do it.”

They did it. And it was a struggle. The bills were paid, but they were not always sure how. Bargains were discovered, help came from unexpected sources, creative meals were prepared with cost efficient ingredients. You probably know all the tricks they tried. And they prayed, and things worked out, but some days took a lot of faith to get through.

After about a year of living like this, during supper one evening, his middle son suddenly asked, “Hey, you remember when you guys told us that we were going to have to live with less after you took the new job?”

My friend had dreaded this moment, when the complaints would come out about how they didn’t know it would be this tough and was it too late to get the old job back, and who knows what else. So, he swallowed hard and said, “Yes, what about it?”

“When is that going to start?”

“Yeah, dad, when?” chimed in the other two.

All he and his wife could say was praise the Lord that their boys’ expectations were such that they didn’t even notice a change. Proof that people like Paul, Moses, and Job are still with us.

Faithful stewardship has many forms. Being generous to God’s work is only the most obvious form. Practicing some of the less obvious, such as managing expectations, comes with its own blessings.

Doug Inglish is RMC stewardship director. Email him at: dougi@rmcsda.org