Good morning. Please open your Bibles to Mark chapter 12.
How do you eat an Oreo cookie?
There are three classic approaches. One is to just bite right into it — top wafer, creamy middle, bottom wafer — all in one go. Raise your hand if you’re a biter.
The other is the “twist and lick” method. You twist the cookie apart, go straight for that double-stuff filling, and only eat the wafers afterward because, well, it’d be a shame to waste them. Raise your hand if you’re a twister.
Finally, there’s the dunk method. Raise your hand if you’re a dunker. All right.
Those are the real baptists.
Here’s the thing — sometimes we treat our favorite Bible stories the same way. We go straight for the creamy middle — the part we already love — and we forget to look at what comes before and after.
Most of us have done that with the story of the widow’s mite in Mark 12. We think we know the story. We’ve heard it in Sunday School, seen it in stewardship campaigns, maybe even quoted it to remind ourselves that “it’s not equal gifts, but equal sacrifice.”
But there’s a wafer on top. Just before this moment, Jesus condemned the religious leaders for devouring widows’ houses—using religion to enrich themselves.
And, there’s a wafer on the bottom. Immediately after, He predicted the destruction of the very temple they were standing in.
So the creamy filling is sandwiched between religious hypocrisy on one side and the recognition that nothing in this world lasts forever on the other. And right in the middle of it all is this story about a widow who gave all she had.
And the reason this story matters so much in a series on biblical stewardship is because every decision to give—to invest what God has entrusted to you—is always caught between two dangers:
• The danger of giving with the wrong heart,
• And the danger of giving to the wrong things.
Both of those break the heart of Jesus.
But giving out of sincere devotion—giving that trusts Him completely—delights His heart.
So with apologies to all the ‘twist-and-lickers’ out there, we’re going to bite into the whole cookie. We’re going to read Mark 12:38 all the way through Mark 13:2, and we’re going to talk about the kind of giving that avoids the dangers and delights the heart of God.
So please read with me:
Mark 12:38–13:2 ESV
38 And in his teaching he said, “Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes and like greetings in the marketplaces 39 and have the best seats in the synagogues and the places of honor at feasts, 40 who devour widows’ houses and for a pretense make long prayers. They will receive the greater condemnation.” 41 And he sat down opposite the treasury and watched the people putting money into the offering box. Many rich people put in large sums. 42 And a poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which make a penny. 43 And he called his disciples to him and said to them, “Truly, I say to you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the offering box. 44 For they all contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.” 1 And as he came out of the temple, one of his disciples said to him, “Look, Teacher, what wonderful stones and what wonderful buildings!” 2 And Jesus said to him, “Do you see these great buildings? There will not be left here one stone upon another that will not be thrown down.”
The Context: Moneychangers on Monday, Taxes on Tuesday (Mark 11:15-19, 12:13-17)
You guys may or may not realize that this story happens on the Tuesday of Holy Week. And Jesus has already been very busy since Palm Sunday:
On Monday, He walked into the court of the Gentiles, saw the chaos of the moneychangers, and drove them out. It matters that this was the court of the Gentiles. This was as far as non-Jews who came to worship God could get in the temple, and they couldn’t even pray for all the donkeys braying and the lambs bleating and the coins clattering and the people haggling. Worship had become business. And Jesus wasn’t having it.
He quoted Isaiah and Jeremiah as He overturned their tables: “My house shall be called a house of prayer for all nations, but you have made it a den of robbers.”
In that moment, Jesus was confronting a system that was catering to the insiders while being indifferent to the outsiders.
Then came Tuesday — the day the Pharisees tried to trap Him by asking whether the Jews should pay taxes to Ceasar. They figured that if he said yes, they could label him as a boot-licker. If he said no, they could call him a seditionist. But Jesus saw right through them. He asked someone to produce a coin with Ceasar’s inscription on it. And he said, “Give to Ceasar what belongs to him, and to God what belongs to Him.”
And this is a good time for you to ask yourself, what belongs to government, and what belongs to God.
Some of us give more emotional energy to the voices on our favorite news channel or podcast than we give to the voice of Jesus. Some of us can quote amendments more easily than we can recall commandments. When that happens, we’re not giving to Caesar what is Caesar’s—we’re giving him what belongs to God. And when that happens, it’s misplaced worship.”
It’s a sobering question, isn’t it? We live in a world full of competing loyalties—where it’s easy to give our hearts away to things that don’t deserve them.
That’s exactly what was happening in Jesus’ day. The temple had become a place of politics and profit instead of prayer. The leaders who were supposed to shepherd God’s people had begun using their positions for status and gain.
So as Jesus looks around the temple, He doesn’t just see marble and gold. He sees corruption. He sees a system that devours the very people it’s meant to protect.
And that’s where we pick up in verse 38—with Jesus’ condemnation of corruption.
1. The Condemnation of Corruption (vv. 38–40)
Jesus doesn’t waste any time naming what He sees. Verse 38 says,
“Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes and like greetings in the marketplaces and the best seats in the synagogues and the places of honor at feasts…”
These men loved the perks of religion more than the purpose of it. They craved attention — the flowing robes, the special titles, the best seats. Their religion had become a costume for pride.
But it’s verse 40 that hits hardest:
“They devour widows’ houses and for a pretense make long prayers. They will receive the greater condemnation.”
The ones who should have protected the vulnerable were exploiting them. They used their position to take advantage of the very people the Law called them to defend.
We don’t know exactly how they were “devouring widows’ houses,” but it probably involved manipulating the devout — convincing poor women to donate their property or make temple gifts they couldn’t afford, promising blessing in return.
And while their lips said, “Glory to God,” their hearts whispered, “Glory to me.”
Before we shake our heads too quickly, we need to pause. Because this warning isn’t just for the scribes of the first century — it’s for the church of the twenty-first.
It’s easy to point at religious leaders who abused their platform for gain and think, “We’d never do that.” But we need to be honest with ourselves. Any time we use faith to feed the self — any time we make
worship about image,
generosity about recognition,
or ministry about control — we drift dangerously close to the same heart disease.
And I’ll be honest: this hits close to home for us right now. We’re in a season of preparing our budget for 2026. And if you’ve been paying attention, you know that our ministries are growing faster than our space can handle. Our student ministry has exploded. Our preschool and children’s ministries are growing. Some of our adult classes are running forty and fifty people, and even if we wanted to multiply them, we don’t have anywhere to put them.
Our facilities are showing their age. The day is coming — sooner rather than later — when we’ll have to talk seriously about building again.
And when that day comes, we must ask the same hard question Jesus asked that Tuesday in the temple: Are we doing this for the glory of God or for the ego of men?
• Are we trying to build a monument, or a ministry center?
• Are we trying to impress our neighbors, or to reach the nations?
• Are we constructing something that will draw applause for us, or draw attention to Him?
Because the difference between those two motives is the difference between worship and corruption.
And with that, Mark says, Jesus “sat down opposite the treasury.”
The Commendation of Commitment (vv. 41–44)
Jesus takes a seat in the temple courts—right across from the treasury. He’s watching people give. Mark tells us that many rich people put in large sums.
In the Court of the Women, there were thirteen collection boxes. Each one was shaped like a trumpet—wide at the top, then narrowing at the base. People called them shofaroth, after the shofar. Seven were designated for required offerings:
• money for the temple tax,
• the daily sacrifices,
• the wood for the altar,
• the incense, and so on.
The other six were for freewill offerings. Each one had a label, and worshipers would walk down the line, dropping their coins into whichever boxes they chose. You can almost hear the sound of their coins clanging against the bronze offering chests. And I can imagine some of the wealthy worshipers enjoyed the attention when they dropped all their coins into the bronze trumpet.
Now picture this widow—moving quietly through that crowd.
She doesn’t have a heavy purse to carry or a servant to announce her gift. She just has two small copper coins, together worth less than a penny. Maybe she stops for a moment in front of the boxes. Which one, Lord?
The one marked “Incense”? The one for “Wood for the Fire”? There wasn’t enough for all thirteen—barely enough for one. But she gave them both.
We can’t know exactly which chest she chose—but we do know what Jesus saw.
He saw the heart behind her offering. He called His disciples over and said,
“Truly, I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. For they all contributed out of their abundance, but she, out of her poverty, has put in everything she had—all she had to live on.”
What a moment. The disciples probably hadn’t even noticed her. The crowd certainly hadn’t. Nobody heard her gift clatter. But heaven heard it loud and clear.
And notice what Jesus doesn’t do. He doesn’t pity her. He doesn’t tell her to keep her money. He doesn’t say, “Bless her heart; she doesn’t know any better.” He lifts her up as an example of faith—because in a temple filled with hypocrisy and corruption, her devotion still pleased the heart of God.
She gave not to impress anyone, not to buy influence, not even to secure her own future—but because she trusted the One who provides for sparrows and counts every hair on her head. Her two coins were a confession: I may not have much, but You have all of me.
That’s what Jesus commends. Not the amount, but the abandon.
Not the coins, but the courage.
Not the gift, but the faith behind it.
If you or I had been there, we wouldn’t have noticed. Her gift wouldn’t have made a sound above the noise of the courtyard. But Jesus noticed.
He saw what no one else saw. And He called His disciples close, because He didn’t want them to miss it either.
“Truly I tell you,” He said, “this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury.”
Not more than any one of them—more than all of them combined.
Because in God’s economy, value isn’t measured by amount, but by abandonment.
The others gave out of their surplus—they gave what they’d never miss.
She gave out of her poverty—all she had to live on.
They made a donation; she made a declaration.
She was saying, “God, I trust You with everything.”
And notice—Jesus didn’t stop her.
He didn’t say, “Ma’am, please don’t give that—the system is corrupt, and this temple won’t stand much longer.”
He let her give, because her faith wasn’t in the temple or the system. It was in the God who still reigns when temples fall.
That’s what delights the heart of Jesus.
Not the size of your check, but the surrender of your heart.
Not the clanging of your coins, but the quiet confidence that He will take care of you.
Maybe that’s why Jesus sat down in the first place. Because in that noisy courtyard, this one act of worship—the faintest sound of two copper coins—was the purest thing He’d heard all week.
The Connection to the Christ (12:44 - 13:1–2)
After this, Jesus and His disciples left the Temple. By the way, this is the last time Jesus would ever see the Temple before the Resurrection.
As they are leaving, one of His disciples looked looked at the awesome temple, and said,
Mark 13:1–2 ESV
1 And as he came out of the temple, one of his disciples said to him, “Look, Teacher, what wonderful stones and what wonderful buildings!”
Do you ever just laugh at how thick the disciples seem to be? Here Jesus has just lifted up the faith of this poor woman, and the disciples are bedazzled by a building. So Jesus says to them
Mark 13:1–2 ESV
2 “Do you see these great buildings? There will not be left here one stone upon another that will not be thrown down.”
The widow had just given everything to a temple that wouldn’t last another generation. But her gift still mattered—because she wasn’t giving to preserve a structure. She was giving to honor her Savior.
And that’s where this story becomes prophetic. In the gospel of John, some people demanded a sign from Jesus. Jesus said,
John 2:19–21 ESV
19 Jesus answered them, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” 20 The Jews then said, “It has taken forty-six years to build this temple, and will you raise it up in three days?” 21 But he was speaking about the temple of his body.
The temple made of stone would crumble, but the true temple—Jesus Himself—would rise.
• That’s what makes the widow’s story so powerful. She put in everything she had. In three days, Jesus would put in everything He had on the Cross.
• The woman gave all she had to live on to a temporary temple. One that would literally be destroyed about 40 years later. Jesus gave all He had to establish an eternal kingdom.
• The Temple would never be rebuilt. There would never again be sacrifices offered on its altar. But when Jesus died on the cross, He became the full and final sacrifice for our sins.
• When He rose again, He established a church that not even the gates of Hell could prevail against.
• And when He gave us His holy spirit, WE became His temple. WE became His dwelling place.
Her offering anticipated His sacrifice. Her two copper coins gave way to Judas’ 30 pieces of silver.
You ever notice where Judas was when he tried to give the thirty pieces of silver back? He was in the Temple, possibly in the very spot where the widow had been three days earlier. Look at Matthew 27:5-6
Matthew 27:5–6 ESV
5 And throwing down the pieces of silver into the temple, he departed, and he went and hanged himself. 6 But the chief priests, taking the pieces of silver, said, “It is not lawful to put them into the treasury, since it is blood money.”
That word treasury refers to the same shofar chests we were talking about earlier.
The widow gave from faith.
Judas gave from guilt.
And Jesus gave from love. Jesus gave His lifeso that so that desperate people could have hope, and so that guilty people could find grace.
What are you giving from? And what are you giving to?
Maybe for you, this morning isn’t about money at all. Maybe it’s about surrender. Maybe it’s about trust. Maybe you’ve been holding back part of your life, afraid that if you give it fully to God, there won’t be anything left for you. The widow reminds us that when we give all we have to live on, we discover that God Himself is enough to live on.
Friend, if you’ve never trusted Jesus as your Savior, that’s the first and greatest act of stewardship—to give Him your life, your trust, your heart. He gave everything for you. Will you give yourself to Him today?
And for those who already belong to Him—this is our moment to ask: What am I giving to?
Are we investing in things that will crumble, or in a Kingdom that will never end?
Glynwood, we have to decide what we are giving to. Are we building monuments to men, or making disciples for Christ?
The temple fell. The Kingdom stands.
So let’s give—not to preserve what’s passing, but to participate in what’s eternal.
• Because when you give out of faith, you delight the heart of Jesus.
• When you give out of love, you reflect the heart of Jesus.
• And when you give Him your all, you find that He has already given you His.
Let’s pray.
