The Cure for a Self-Absorbed Heart

Paul Durbin •
May 12, 2026

2 Minute Read

What if the cure for a self-absorbed heart is a generous one?

When Paul wrote to the Corinthians, he'd just spent fifteen chapters (of 1 Corinthians) confronting some serious mess—lawsuits, immorality, even doubts about the resurrection. And then, almost out of nowhere, he pivots in chapter 16 and starts talking about… a collection. For people a thousand miles away. People the Corinthians would never meet, never hear from, never get a thank-you note from.

I don't think that pivot was random. I think Paul knew something we forget: one of the surest ways out of our own stuff is to start paying attention to someone else's. Generosity has a way of breaking the gravitational pull of self. It reorients our hearts. It reminds us we're part of something bigger than our own bank accounts and our own backyard.

I remember the first time Patty and I gave away money I really wanted to keep. It was guitar money—mine—and the Lord nudged me to give it to a friend so he could buy a bass. It hurt a little. But when I saw his face the next day, something cracked open in me. Money lost a little bit of its grip, and joy moved in.

That's what missional giving does. It loosens what's tight in us and makes room for God to work. If you want to hear more, listen to the full sermon or dig into the study guide—and ask Him where He might be inviting you to look beyond yourself this week.

162 | Is There a Standard for Giving?

In this message, Pastor Paul Durbin walks us through 1 Corinthians 16:1-2 and uncovers six surprisingly practical standards for giving. Drawing from Paul's words to a self-absorbed Corinthian church, he shows how generosity pulls us out of ourselves and into God's mission. With honesty, humor, and stories from his own life, Paul invites Belay'ers to see giving not as a burden, but as a beautiful habit that breaks money's grip and shapes us into people who live "on belay."

Paul Durbin • Last Sunday
Up Next
From this Collection: Blog
Currently Reading
May 12, 2026 • 2 Minute Read
The Cure for a Self-Absorbed Heart
What if the cure for a self-absorbed heart is a generous one? When Paul wrote to the Corinthians, he'd just spent fifteen chapters (of 1 Corinthians) confronting some serious mess—lawsuits, immorality, even doubts about the resurrection. And then, almost out of nowhere, he pivots in chapter 16 and starts talking about… a collection. For people a thousand miles away. People the Corinthians would never meet, never hear from, never get a thank-you note from. I don't think that pivot was random. I think Paul knew something we forget: one of the surest ways out of our own stuff is to start paying attention to someone else's. Generosity has a way of breaking the gravitational pull of self. It reorients our hearts. It reminds us we're part of something bigger than our own bank accounts and our own backyard. I remember the first time Patty and I gave away money I really wanted to keep. It was guitar money—mine—and the Lord nudged me to give it to a friend so he could buy a bass. It hurt a little. But when I saw his face the next day, something cracked open in me. Money lost a little bit of its grip, and joy moved in. That's what missional giving does. It loosens what's tight in us and makes room for God to work. If you want to hear more, listen to the full sermon or dig into the study guide—and ask Him where He might be inviting you to look beyond yourself this week.View Media
May 3, 2026 • 2 Minute Read
The Book of Acts Ends on an Adverb
The book of Acts ends on an adverb. Seriously. Luke—one of the most careful, polished writers in the early church—stops his story mid-sentence on the word "unhindered." Paul is under house arrest, the verdict is unclear, the churches are scattered, and Luke just… puts the pen down. It feels like a mistake. But I think it's actually the point. The story wasn't over when Luke stopped writing. It still isn't. The Spirit who came at Pentecost, the gospel that cut three thousand people to the heart, the unnamed men and women from Cyprus who just started talking about Jesus to their neighbors—that whole movement keeps going. And somewhere in the middle of it is you and me. I think a lot of us read the Bible like it's a closed book about people who lived a long time ago. But Acts refuses to let us do that. It hands us the pen. It says: keep writing. Keep walking. Keep telling people about Jesus in your kitchen, on your hike, at the coffee shop, in the carpool line. You don't need a title or a platform. The gospel reached the Gentiles because of people Luke didn't even bother to name. That's encouraging to me. The story of Jesus at work in the world has always moved forward on the backs of regular people who simply stayed devoted and stayed available. So—where are you in the story right now? Name it. Tell someone. And then take the next small step. This thought is based on this recent sermon by Kevan Ho:View Media