What we sometimes see in the body of Christ as it relates to leaders and money issues is why I believe someone like Apostle Paul would say he would rather labour with his hands than be chargeable to any man. (Acts 20:34–35; 1 Thessalonians 2:9).
You see the “mess” money issues bring, and I’m like, that man is wise though. The same man told ministers that those who preach the gospel should live by the gospel, that those who serve at the altar have a right to partake of the altar. (1 Corinthians 9:13–14)
But he himself sometimes withdrew from that right. Just to preserve the sanctity of his message. He didn’t want anyone to have the opportunity to say, “Paul is preaching because of what he gets from us.”
He was not against ministers being supported. He was against his support becoming a stumbling block to the gospel. And I think there is something profoundly wise about that.
You see, I grew up hating the very idea that ministers have to depend on congregants to feed. Ewww. It was like a stench when I had to see my dad wait for the board to approve this money and that money for the family. And some would tell me, as I ran the errands with my small legs, “Take this letter back to Pastor. Tell him we will get in touch.” “Full-time, half-time, quarter-time.” I hated all of them.
I know this may be a sensitive piece; however, I just want to share some of my thoughts and experiences as a full-time and part-time pastor’s child who had to deal with lots and lots of money issues with different church boards and committees.
At some points, we lived entirely at the sheer mercy of a white-haired elder with a wrinkled face, stiff smile, and protruding stomach. I used to think, why exactly do churches have these things, but I think they’re supposed to.
Things have changed real fast. Churches are now very structured organisations with different responsibilities and varying levels of accountability. But at least, we should put people who fear the Lord in these positions. If they fear the Lord, they will fear their pastors. And, yes, they do need to actually fear their pastors.
Not because pastors are gods. Not because pastors should be above accountability. But because if someone has been entrusted with the spiritual care of people, there should be a healthy reverence for that office and for the person carrying that responsibility. There should be accountability, but there should also be honour.
Paul said, “Let the elders that rule well be counted worthy of double honour, especially they who labour in the word and doctrine.” (1 Timothy 5:17)
I’m in a group of pastors where questions regarding how church boards treat pastors were asked. The tales are sorry. Very sorry.
The truth is, I don’t know who’s deceiving who. The pastor who’s always pissed with the elders in his church and is always at loggerheads with them, but still manages to stand and preach every Sunday, smile at them, and act all good until service is over and he needs part of his salary to pay his kid’s fees. Or the grey-haired elders and deacons who swing their waists from side to side in rhythmic sync to the hymns and raise their hands in worship when the pastor starts speaking into their lives, but become bitter once service closes because their pastor is living in a flat and the church can’t afford the rent.
I mean, what are we even doing? Or what do we even do? Or what were we even doing?
As a pastor’s child, there’s no way you won’t harbour hatred, and sometimes fear, for those old men who always stood up to your father—the supposed head of the church!
An elder and some members of the council once visited us. We were living in a—I don’t quite remember, bless the Lord—two- or three-bedroom flat. This was many years ago when I was still just a little puzzled boy. We had fancy bulbs in the sitting room. It had a dining section. The house was painted. There was a gate. It was fenced. It was very quiet, peaceful, and lovely.
At the back of the building was a river. Oh my, I used to go and take a cold bath there sometimes after school. The water was very clean. Sand lorries often came to dig out white sand from the bottom of the river. That meant we always had fresh water with neat bottoms all year round.
That home was home indeed. Well, not until the church’s elders came visiting.
They said to my dad, in my own words: “Why do you live in such a good house? It’s too much what the church is paying for it. You should move to a less grand apartment.”
We were sad. But we moved. You no go move keh?
If I describe where we moved to, you won’t believe me. You would think I was making it up. Just so you can have a little picture, the soak-away pit was broken, and anytime you heard the sound of the toilet flushing, you were sure to find what left your body right beside your bedroom window. The back of the house had a pavement that was almost falling away. It was a mess. The house was literally haunted.
Of course, the ones who called the shots loved it. Or did they now? I don’t remember again.
I kid myself sometimes and think perhaps God wanted to rid me of the painful memories of my family’s escapades in the hands of “church,” and that’s why he made me forget things easily.
I am looking at how badly I am telling this story, and I’m mad at myself. I don’t have very good or clear childhood memories. If I did, I probably would have had a very hard time being in church.
Yes, everyone has their fair share of life’s troubles. But I’m not talking about life’s troubles here. I’m talking about church elders and leadership versus pastor troubles. So the story is very different here. Or at least, I try to think so.
I mean, what is the offence in saying you want to serve God and you answered God’s call for your life? Should you not be rewarded handsomely for that?
Well, Apostle Paul said,
“We are made as the filth of the world, and are the offscouring of all things unto this day.” (1 Corinthians 4:13)
As I said before, that man is smart. He knew early how to do ministry without being dependent on anyone. This dude is wise. He didn’t even get married. This man was a tentmaker, right? (Acts 18:3).
How would he have fared with a family, kids, and all, when he was always pissing off the authorities and sleeping in cells?!
Tentmaking wasn’t a very lucrative trade in the time of the Apostle. It was somewhat in the middle-income or lower-middle-income range. To put things in perspective, he was something like today’s carpenter, electrical worker, or plumber.
When last did you hear that someone was a millionaire from working those crafts, unless he had some good business structure around it? Well, Paul couldn’t have had the time to build such a structure around his business.
This was a man who travelled extensively, preached, taught, reasoned in synagogues, planted churches, trained people, wrote letters, was beaten, imprisoned, shipwrecked, and endured all kinds of hardship for the gospel. (2 Corinthians 11:23–28). And yet, he told us that he had learned to be content both in times of plenty and in times of lack. (Philippians 4:11–12)
Does a millionaire say that? Maybe.
But you get what I mean.
Paul knew what it meant to have plenty. He also knew what it meant to have nothing. Those times when he said, “in fastings often,” he wasn’t necessarily talking only about voluntary abstinence from food to seek the Lord. He was also describing seasons of deprivation and hunger as part of the hardships he endured. (2 Corinthians 11:27).
That’s why he listed it alongside other perils and difficulties he faced. You don’t normally describe your voluntary fasting as a peril. There is a difference between saying, “I chose not to eat because I was seeking God,” and saying, “I was hungry because I had no food.” Paul knew both.
And this is where I think the conversation about money and ministry becomes important.
What’s my point?
I’m saying money issues have a way of messing up the work of ministry for pastors. Money can make a pastor resent his church. Money can make a church resent its pastor. Money can turn a relationship that should be built around service, love, and trust into a negotiation.
The pastor begins wondering, “Will they pay me?”
The church leadership begin wondering, “What exactly are we paying this man for?”
The congregation begins wondering, “Why does the pastor need this?”
And before you know it, the gospel is being preached in the middle of a financial tension that nobody wants to address. So, both the person saying, “Don’t depend on the church for your livelihood,” and the one saying, “The church should cater to your needs,” are not necessarily wrong.
Scripture actually gives room for both ideas.
Paul defended the right of those who preach the gospel to receive material support from the gospel. (1 Corinthians 9:7–14)
At the same time, Paul deliberately chose not to make use of that right in certain circumstances. (1 Corinthians 9:12, 15)
So the issue is not as simplistic as, “Pastors should never receive money from the church.” Neither is it, “If God called you, the church must fund your entire life.”
There is a balance.
But the safest place is to depend on God.
That’s what Apostle Paul did. He could receive from people without making people his source. People can be channels. They must never become your source.
To venture into “ministry” while having the members constantly in mind for your physical sustenance can become dangerous, especially in this century. You will be so frustrated that you will start wondering if you actually heard God.
“How did God call me into something that is making me this miserable?”
“How can I serve these people when I’m constantly angry with them because they don’t pay me?”
“How can I preach faith to people when I’m privately afraid that I won’t be able to pay my own bills?”
How do I know all this?
Well, over 400 pastors on that WhatsApp group cannot all be wrong on this matter at the same time. That is, if my childhood experience doesn’t count. Our dependence is on God, not man. God cares for me, not man. He uses men—very well. But don’t make the mistake of trying to use men yourself. Let him do the using. You focus on the receiving.
If God wants to use a church, let him use the church. If he wants to use a stranger, let him use a stranger. If he wants to use a business, let him use a business. If he wants to give you wisdom to create something with your own hands, let him give you the wisdom. But never make the channel your source.
Because the moment you begin to look at people as the ones responsible for your survival, you will inevitably begin to manipulate your relationship with them.
You may start preaching what they want to hear. You may become afraid to correct them. You may tolerate things you should confront. Or, on the other side, you may become bitter when they don’t give you what you think they should give you. And then money has quietly entered the pulpit.
That is why settling the matter of FINANCE is a phase everyone MUST fix in life, whether they are pastors or not. You need to know how you will live. You need to know how you will earn. You need to know how you will manage what comes into your hands. You need to know what you can afford and what you cannot. You need to remove as much unnecessary financial pressure as possible so that money does not become the invisible hand controlling your decisions.
Because when money is unsettled, it can follow you everywhere.
Into your marriage.
Into your friendships.
Into your business.
Into your ministry.
Into your relationship with God.
And sometimes, the greatest financial freedom is not having a lot of money. It is simply reaching the point where money no longer controls your obedience.
Paul had learned contentment.
He knew abundance.
He knew lack.
He knew how to receive.
He knew how to work.
He knew how to give.
And through it all, he learned that his sufficiency was not ultimately in people.
That is the lesson I’m sharing here for everyone, but especially pastors and church leaders:
Let God be your source.
People may be the channel.
But never confuse the channel with the source.