Let me tell you something that’s been heavy on my heart for a while now. I’ve been sitting with this, praying through it, and honestly just watching. Watching how the church talks about tithing. Watching how people struggle silently under the weight of it. And watching how far we’ve strayed from what I believe God originally intended.
I used to think tithing was just something we did to stay in good standing with God. You know—10% off the top, bring it to the church, and you’re blessed. But as I kept digging, studying, and seeking God—not just through what others said but for myself—I started seeing something different. Something deeper. Something more beautiful and more confronting all at once.
The tithe, at its core, was never about obligation. It was about compassion. It was about care. It was God’s built-in system to make sure His people were taken care of—especially those who were most vulnerable.
Let’s talk about it.
In the early biblical model, the tithe wasn’t about dropping money in a bucket or setting up automated giving. It was about food. Provision. Shared resources. The tithe made sure the Levites—those who ministered full-time—were provided for. It made sure the widow had grain, the orphan had a meal, and the foreigner, the sojourner—the one who just arrived and didn’t have anything yet—was welcomed and supported.
Scripture is clear about this. In Deuteronomy 10:18-19, God says He “loves the foreigner residing among you, giving them food and clothing. And you are to love those who are foreigners.” But that same Word also calls the foreigner to honor the house they’ve come into. Exodus 12:49 says, “The same law applies both to the native-born and to the foreigner residing among you.”
So yes, God commands us to care for the immigrant—but also calls the immigrant to respect and walk in alignment with the covenant culture of the community they’re in. That’s balance. That’s Scripture. And that’s what often gets lost in the noise of politics and polarized narratives.
And that brings me to something I can’t ignore. While God clearly commands us to care for the vulnerable, including immigrants and those in need, we also have to acknowledge that not everyone comes with pure intentions. There are people who, sadly, try to abuse systems of generosity—including within the church. Scripture even addresses this directly. In 2 Thessalonians 3:10, Paul writes, “The one who is unwilling to work shall not eat.” He was calling out those who were fully able-bodied but choosing to live off the kindness and labor of others. Not the poor. Not the sick. But the ones who refused to contribute when they absolutely could. That’s not righteousness—that’s exploitation.
And this is why we need wisdom and discernment—not just as individual believers, but especially from those who are stewarding the resources of the congregation. Leaders must be led by the Holy Spirit to discern when a hand is reaching out in genuine need, and when a pattern of dependency is taking root. Compassion and accountability are not enemies; they walk hand-in-hand.
If this was God’s heart for the tithe—caring for the vulnerable, honoring those who labor, including the foreigner who walks in humility—then we’ve got to ask an honest question: are we still using it that way today?
Can we pause there for a second? Because I look around at a lot of modern churches today, and I can’t help but ask: how much of what’s being collected is actually going toward that?
Because what I see in so many places is the majority of the income going toward paying the mortgage for the church building, covering the church building’s light bill and water bill, and upgrading things like expensive stage lighting or fog machines. Church buildings that are used a few times a week are eating up the majority of the church’s income, while people in the pews—and outside them—are struggling to eat, struggling to stay warm, struggling to survive.
We have people in the body of Christ going without basic necessities, while we upgrade screens and platforms. Meanwhile, the widow down the street is choosing between medicine and food. The single mom who ran out of diapers has had to wrap her baby in a towel. The immigrant family is sleeping on the floor of an empty apartment because they haven’t been able to afford beds yet. And worse yet, in some churches, the congregation isn’t even being spiritually fed. The message sounds good—it tickles the ear, it motivates—but it doesn’t transform. People are walking in and out of those doors spiritually dead, deceived into thinking they’re safe, when in reality, they’ve got one foot in hell. And we have the nerve to say, “God will provide.” But God DID provide—He put that provision in the hands of His people. We’re just not moving it where it needs to go.
And then there’s the pastors. Not the celebrity ones you see on Instagram. I’m talking about the real ones. The ones leading sometimes small congregations—faithful, consistent, available. The ones who study until 2 AM to rightly divide the Word. The ones who take your call when your loved one passes away, who show up at the hospital, who counsel you when your marriage is falling apart. Many of these pastors are working full-time jobs just to survive—and still funding the church out of their own pockets.
I know these pastors. I’ve seen them sacrifice. I’ve seen their kids go without so someone else could have. I’ve seen them empty their fridges to feed a family in crisis, while their own pantry sat half-empty.
This isn’t theory for me. This is real life. This is my circle. These are the people I love.
And so when I talk about tithing, I’m not talking about checking a religious box. I’m talking about rediscovering God’s heart. I’m talking about restoring dignity to the Church. I’m talking about rebuilding the house—not just the building, but the family.
Because that’s what the tithe was for. It was never meant to be about guilt, shame, or financial manipulation. It was about love. About honor. About making sure the ones who labor for the Word, and the ones who can’t help themselves right now, aren’t forgotten.
So here’s my challenge to all of us: Look around. Look within. Ask God, “What do I have in my hand right now that could meet someone else’s need?”
Because if we all did that—if we all tithed in spirit and in truth—there would truly be no needy among us.
We actually see this modeled in the New Testament. When one congregation was facing famine, the other believers and leaders came together and gave what they could—not out of guilt, not because someone manipulated them with emotional stories or false promises, but because love compelled them. They gave from what they had and did so gladly. That’s what it looks like to be the Church. That’s what it looks like to prepare the house before crisis comes.
There was no twisting of arms, no pressure tactics, and definitely no lies like “if you sow this specific amount today, God’s going to give you a house or cancel your debt.” That’s not generosity—that’s manipulation. That’s marketing disguised as ministry. Scripture is clear that giving should be done with joy and led by the Spirit, not under pressure or deceit. Any giving that is rooted in selfish ambition—on the part of the giver or the leader—is not kingdom giving. That’s self-serving religion.
And maybe, just maybe, if we returned to this kind of giving, we’d start to look like the Church Jesus actually envisioned.
Selah
