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It is so good to be back. As part of our role, Lucinda and I have been with our church in New York, alongside Krishan and Danny, who are doing an incredible job. We have church in Manhattan, up in Boston, and in New Jersey, and we spent time with their team.
Before that, I was in Barcelona and London, and in Spain we went from Barcelona to Madrid, where we opened a new facility — a 1,200-seat auditorium. Praise God, God is moving in Spain, and our church is playing a part in that.
You may not realise it, but together we are having an impact all across the world. In Barcelona there was an open house event with churches and leaders from all across the Mediterranean — leaders from Morocco, our pastors Damon and Emily from Tel Aviv in Israel, and pastors from Italy and all around the region. God is at work. His church is alive, and it's something we should never take for granted and be extremely grateful for.
My message today is: Why were the Macedonians so crazy?
If you're new to our church, I need to be upfront: I am speaking about generosity today, and I am unapologetic about it, because generosity is central to the gospel. It is central to the message of Jesus.
If you're here for the first time, this is a great Sunday for you, because you get to understand the heart of God for his people — for all people — and make your own decision about whether you want to be part of this journey of generosity as a way of life. That is what the followers of Jesus live by. We serve a generous God. We have received of his generosity, and therefore we live as generous people across the earth.
The Macedonians weren't just radical — they were beyond radical in the way they chose to be generous. Paul writes about them to the church in Corinth:
And now, brothers and sisters, we want you to know about the grace that God has given the Macedonian churches. In the midst of a very severe trial, their overflowing joy and their extreme poverty welled up in rich generosity. (2 Corinthians 8:1–2)
These words shouldn't go together. Severe trial — overflowing joy. Extreme poverty — rich generosity. These guys are crazy.
For I testify that they gave as much as they were able and even beyond their ability, entirely on their own. They urgently pleaded with us for the privilege of sharing in this service to the Lord's people. (2 Corinthians 8:3–4)
They begged to give — and exceeded expectations. They gave themselves first of all to the Lord, and then by the will of God also to Paul.
But since you excel in everything — in faith, in speech, in knowledge, in complete earnestness, and in the love we have kindled in you — see that you also excel in this grace of giving. (2 Corinthians 8:7)
Paul is challenging the church in Corinth, using the Macedonians and their extreme, crazy generosity as the example. So the question is: why?
There was a time when Macedonia was the most powerful empire in the world. Many think it was led by Alexander the Great, but it was actually his father, Philip II, who really got the empire going. There's a statue of him in modern-day Macedonia today.
This was a leader who went into battle himself. In fact, he lost an eye — an arrow to the eye while besieging a city — and after he won the siege, he destroyed the city. That's what you did back in those days.
Macedonia was also the location of some of Paul's travels. His second and third missionary journeys included this whole region, and he helped establish three churches there: Berea, Thessalonica, and Philippi.
So how did this once-powerful people end up on "struggle street"? Four things happened over time:
Roman economic exploitation. The Romans annexed Macedonia around 148 BC and stripped the region of its wealth. Macedonia had gold and silver mines, but the Romans took it all — imposing taxes and seizing timber, metals, and agricultural goods for their military. There was very little left for the local population.
Devastating wars. Roman armies and civil wars ripped through the region. They plundered towns, took crops, and seized whatever they wanted from the local treasuries — and there was nothing anyone could do about it. The region never fully recovered from this systemic, military-enforced impoverishment.
Earthquakes and famine. A series of powerful earthquakes struck Macedonia between AD 49 and 53, and an empire-wide grain famine during the reign of Emperor Claudius caused food prices to shoot up drastically.
Persecution. The Macedonian church in particular faced severe social and religious persecution. If you converted to Christianity, you faced a backlash — from pagan neighbours, from Roman authorities. You could be ostracised socially, have your property taken, and find local businesses refusing to trade with you. You gave up a great deal to follow Jesus.
And yet — the Macedonian church loved Jesus. In the midst of everything, they heard the good news from Paul, and something changed in their hearts. "Jesus did this for me? Jesus can change me? I want to know him." These little churches began to grow and flourish.
Sometimes, when you don't have a lot, you realise what really matters.
Now compare the Macedonians to the church Paul was writing to — the church in Corinth. The economic contrast is significant. Corinth and Macedonia sat on opposite ends of the economic spectrum.
Corinth had three things going for it:
Strategic geography. Corinth was a bustling port city rebuilt by Julius Caesar, controlling the Isthmus of Corinth — the primary trade gateway between the Aegean and Ionian Seas. These strategic regions controlled wealth and power.
Thriving commerce. The city had grown wealthy from trade and transit taxes. It was a world city, a tourism destination.
Social status. The church reflected this wealth, with civic leaders, business people, and landowners. One, Erastus, was the city director of public works, with significant disposable income.
Here's the massive paradox: Corinth had plenty of money but lacked the willingness to give. Macedonia had no money but begged for the privilege to give.
The Macedonians had experienced the transforming power, love, and grace of Jesus — and nothing mattered more. They'd had the silver and gold; they'd seen it taken away. They understood what really matters.
When things are tough, when everything gets shaken, you start to ask what really matters.
A few weeks ago I was speaking in our church in Brisbane City about being people of peace — about how, when Jesus first appeared to his disciples after the cross, the first thing he said was a deep word of peace: not merely peace from conflict, but a deep inner peace.
Afterwards, a gentleman came up and said, "I really appreciated your lecture today." He told me, "I'm a doctor and I'm a Muslim, and I've been studying the Christian faith. When you grow up in something, it's very hard to let it go, but I'm trying to have an open mind." Then he said something that struck me: "The cross. The cross is the difference. That one man would sacrifice himself for everybody and all sin, and make everyone right with God — that he loved us so much."
The Macedonians understood that too, in the context of their pain and brokenness. Paul showed up and said, "God loves you," and pointed to Jesus — and everything changed. Because the world isn't just about what we see outwardly; it's about what he changes on the inside.
Let me tell you about my friend Enathi. I get emotional every time I see him. I got to know him when we first built accommodation for physically disabled kids in a township, Gugulethu, in Cape Town. When we opened the facility, Enathi was already there, in his bed, having claimed his spot — with a smile that never leaves his face. Enathi has cerebral palsy.
Enathi can offer me nothing. He is my Macedonia. And yet every year on my birthday, he records a voice note singing happy birthday in his broken ability to speak, and sends it to me. It is the most beautiful thing. He is so filled with joy in the midst of severe trial, so considerate, always thinking, "What can I do to help someone else?" It challenges me to my core. It doesn't make sense to my entitled brain.
This overflowing joy comes from a deep place where you realise that some things you thought mattered don't really matter at all. Jesus said it like this:
Don't store up treasures here on earth, where moths eat them and rust destroys them, where thieves break in and steal. Store your treasures in heaven... Wherever your treasure is, there the desires of your heart will also be. (Matthew 6)
The Macedonians' hearts were with what God was doing in his church — and their treasure longed to be where their hearts already were.
The Macedonians would not be contained by their circumstances or kept small by the low expectations of others. They refused to give in to small-minded thinking or living.
Radical generosity is an invitation to be part of a bigger world. When you choose to be generous, you say, "I'm not going to be contained to the circumstance I've found myself in. I want to be bigger."
The world of the generous gets larger and larger. The world of the stingy gets smaller and smaller. (Proverbs 11:24, The Message)
Solomon captures in one line what Paul takes a paragraph to describe. Generosity is not subtraction — it is expansion. The stingy person holds tightly, and their world contracts: fewer relationships, less trust, a narrower experience of life and of God. The generous person opens their hands and finds their world growing.
Here's a story from my own experience. Our church in Gugulethu is beautiful — amazing, joyful, generous people. A number of years ago, we would truck production equipment in every Sunday to a hall we helped build, then take it out and store it securely afterwards. It was worth over $100,000.
One Sunday, as the truck was leaving with all the gear, armed men stopped it, forced out the driver and the security guard, and drove it to another location. What they didn't know was that there was another security guard in the back with the equipment the whole time. Thankfully he was let go unharmed — but they took everything.
I felt indignant. But I said to our church, "We're not going to stop going into this community. This community loves Jesus, and we love them. We'll do a special offering." What blew my mind is that when we looked at where the giving came from across our campuses, the biggest giving came from the people of Khayelitsha — the very people we least expected. They gave more generously than we could ever have imagined, because God had done something in their hearts and they didn't want it to stop in their community.
The Macedonians had a deep conviction that the church is the hope of the world. They had seen and experienced so much, and yet they recognised that what Jesus was doing through his church was greater than any political move.
(A video was shown of a Ukrainian family, forced to flee the 2022 invasion, who found a church family through Hillsong Perth. The church helped the wife and children settle — connect groups, youth ministry, help finding an apartment and a vehicle — before the father was finally able to join them a year later. In his words: "You literally show us Jesus in practice. You show us what it means to be loved.")
How beautiful is that story — the gospel lived out in community. That's what we're all about: the power of the church, the hope of the world.
The Macedonians had a proud, rich history — one of the great minds of the era, Aristotle, came from that region. And yet nothing compared to the good news of Jesus. They knew the government couldn't do it. A political leader wasn't the answer. Economic wealth was fleeting. Philosophy and knowledge wouldn't do it. Status and power weren't the answer. The church is the hope of the world.
The church is not peripheral to the world. The world is peripheral to the church. The church is Christ's body, in which he speaks and acts, and by which he fills everything with his presence. (Ephesians 1:23, The Message)
We get the privilege of filling this world with his presence by being the church. And the statistics back it up: greater church presence reduces youth crime and antisocial behaviour. We have significant domestic violence just under the surface in our nation, and the church helps victims — but more than that, we want the church to be the answer before the violence begins, helping men to be good men who love God, follow Jesus, and treat women with respect.
We have increased loneliness, depression, and suicide in our world — and the church again holds the answers that bring hope. For all our wealth and opportunity in Australia, there is deep pain and brokenness in many hearts. Jesus is the answer. He gives meaning to an otherwise meaningless world.
As we conclude — Hillsong Church Australia, we are not the Macedonians. We are like the church of Corinth. We are a wealthy country with opportunity, privilege, and status compared to most of the world. People come to our nation for a better life.
So the challenge Paul gave to Corinth is our challenge:
Since you excel in everything — in faith, in speech, in knowledge, in complete earnestness, and in the love we have kindled in you — see that you also excel in this grace of giving. (2 Corinthians 8:7)
The Corinthians were gifted, faithful, loving. And Hillsong Church, so are you. We've achieved a lot over the last 43 years, but the mission is not complete. We have a fresh mission, and we need to choose to accept it. We're called to build a church that helps build a nation.
Practically, we're looking for permanent facilities across all our locations. We're expanding — Adelaide, here we come! And look at what's happening in Perth, where we're establishing a permanent 24/7 facility to bless and serve the city — a place to run youth on Friday nights, kids programs, Alpha, night college, and to reach out to the community. This will be a game-changer for a church that has been bumping in and out of a facility since we started there.
Paul called the Corinthians to go further, and I am saying the same to you. You are more than capable of this. You are called for this moment. You have been graced for this.
We've received radical grace through Jesus, and that will flow out of us as we give generously to build his church. Let's not settle for excellence in every area except the one that visibly demonstrates the gospel — generosity.
Let me remind you: we are not building a brand or a social gathering where you can enjoy your flat white on a Sunday. We are building the church of the Lord Jesus Christ. Generosity is not a spiritual add-on, but a mark of a life radically transformed by his grace.
The Macedonians may have appeared poor, but they were rich in grace and became an incredible inspiration. So the question Paul puts to us is simple: Who are we? Let us be people who have received so deeply from Jesus that we cannot help but give — not from guilt, not from obligation, but from the joyful overflow of lives given away to Christ first.
Let's be all in.
Maybe you've been away from God and you don't want to live like that anymore. He loves you, my friend. This is all about Jesus and what he does in our hearts when we open our lives to him.
I believe there are people right now who know God is speaking to your heart, and this is your moment to respond. It's a simple prayer, but a powerful one — a prayer of surrender that says, "Jesus, son of God, forgive me and give me a brand new start." And that's exactly what he will do.
If that's you, pray this from your heart:
Dear heavenly Father, thank you for your son, Jesus. Thank you for everything he's done for me. Right now, I open my heart and my life — everything I am — and I give it to you. From this moment I am forgiven. I'm a child of God. I'm leaving the past behind and walking forward into my future with Jesus as my Lord, my Saviour, and my friend. Amen.
