Money and Mission - Bishop JUstin Duckworth

When God Gives a Vision, He Provides the Resource

Taken from Bishop Justin’s Synod Charge – Synod 2025 – 17 October 2025 - Whanganui

In 2007, shortly after becoming a priest, our family went on sabbatical to England. We took over a small parish in southeast London for three months. Mornings were spent doing the parish priest thing, a real privilege. But on Sunday nights, we explored churches around London.

I remember two experiences vividly. Our children were young at the time. One night, we visited Holy Trinity Brompton (HTB), the home of Alpha. Nicky Gumbel was preaching, and there we were, front row. It was surreal. Another night, we went to St Mary’s, another significant church, and their worship band had been imported. We got both HTB and St Mary’s in one night, it felt like heaven on earth.

Later, we visited Hillsong London. That night, Matt Redman was leading worship. Hillsong met in a musical theatre that hosted We Will Rock You six days a week. On Sundays, it transformed into Hillsong. As we arrived, we saw a six-meter bronze statue of Freddie Mercury. Luca, now a priest, asked, “Who’s that?” Embarrassingly, I replied, “Matt Redman.”

Inside, the worship was incredible. You couldn’t get better than that, well, maybe tonight was better. Credit to Caleb and the team. It was phenomenal.

In both HTB and Hillsong, I felt like, “This is it.” But in both places, I sensed God speaking the same word to me:
“This is great, but who will leave the 99 and go for the one?”

That message has shaped my life. What energizes me most is leaving the 99 and going for the one. As bishop, I’m most alive when visiting churches and marginal communities and seeing God present there.

We often forget the gospel grew in Nazareth, flourished in Galilee, and was crucified in Jerusalem. Yet we seek Jerusalem, while our Savior sought Nazareth and Galilee. I’m excited about what’s happening in forgotten and marginal communities across our diocese, God is breaking in.

No one loves your community like you do

When I became Archbishop, something funny happened. I got older and stressed, but more importantly, I noticed people expected me to ride in on a white horse and save their parish.

I had to say:
“If you think head office or the Archbishop is going to save you, you’re dreaming.”

You are responsible for your community. No one loves it like you do. No one has its heartbeat like you do. The best we can do is bring Uber Eats and support you. You are the master plan, God’s work in your life, filled by the Spirit, is the plan.

Since becoming Archbishop, I’ve tried to be more intellectual. I noticed all the great Christians had read Tom Holland’s Dominion. I’m halfway through—it’s a big book.

One part struck me deeply. Holland compares the World Wars to Tolkien’s writing. In The Lord of the Rings, the Fellowship never wielded the Ring of Power. Sauron couldn’t understand that. Why not wield it? Because it would corrupt them.

As followers of Jesus, we must never pick up the Ring of Power. Even wielded with good intentions, it corrupts. The ends never justify the means. The means must align with the Spirit and fruit of Christ.

One area where this applies is money. I lose sleep over this. I wonder if we’re living off past generations’ generosity and not paying our own way. Across the church, we rely on historical money, for worship, pastoral care, programs.

I don’t want to live like that. I want to know I added value. I’d rather the money be spent on a hospital in Gaza than on me. I want to pay my own way and figure out how we do that as a church.

There’s no correlation between church wealth and church growth. The fastest-growing churches today are outside the Western world and don’t have our wealth. The issue isn’t money, it’s heart.

Provision: Cuba Street and the Monastery

Before becoming bishop, I lived on Cuba Street, hanging out with the street community. We dreamed of renting a better place next door. The rent was exorbitant. Then, out of the blue, a former youth worker reconnected and offered to underwrite it. Boom! Done. God provided.

Later, we tried to buy the Ngatiawa River Monastery. We had no trust fund, no entity, just God’s call. Our mortgage broker washed his hands of us. Once a bank turns you down, all banks know. We had no income and had already moved in. Mistake!

Then a friend invited us to Taranaki to train youth workers. I said, “We’re depressed. We can’t.” He insisted. We went. During morning tea, I shared our situation. He handed me the card of a mobile lending manager from TSB.

She gave us a mortgage. But, she said, “Promise me two things: never ask for another cent, and promise to pay it back.” We kept one of those.

After 10 years, we left the monastery with no mortgage. It had been built up, chapel and all. It’s a miracle. I feel like we miss out on miracles when we don’t trust God’s provision.

I’m told Nelson Mandala said the following at his presidential inauguration:

“The tragedy is that when some of us in this room die, our lives will have made no difference whatsoever.
The worst fear is that some of us will have done irreparable damage.
But the great hope is that some of us will have changed the face of South Africa forever, for God.”

I want that hope for our church. I want us to leave a legacy of people following Jesus and adding value. Structures don’t help faith flourish, small communities of faithful people do.

Vision Before Resource

Let’s pivot to where vision precedes resource. Instead of letting a what do we have mindset shape what we can do, ask: “What is God asking us to do?”

When God gives a vision, He provides the resource. Before going to trusts, let’s go to ourselves. Why should the church pay for God’s mission? I want that privilege because I believe in the vision.

Maybe then we’ll realize we added value, the Kingdom came, and we left a legacy. This message is for all of us. Everyone gets to play. Everyone gets to experience God’s generosity. Everyone gets to find a vision worth laying their life down for.

My favourite saying is:
“Every great work of God begins with: first it’s impossible, then it’s difficult, and then it’s done.”

I want everyone in our church to experience that.

ENDS