The Joy of Tithing

The Gift God Wants You to Have

How do you react to seeing or hearing the word “tithe”? What is your gut saying in response to that word? What is your mind and your heart saying? Which of those three are you trusting the most as you continue to read?

The tithe has the power to set us free: to set us free from the power of Mammon, the power of money. Every time we worry about money, we are distracted. Tithing is the practice of taking the first 10 percent of one’s income and giving it away. It is a statement that we will not be beholden to the almighty dollar (or peso or pound sterling, for that matter).

What people who tithe can do for their community of faith is a different question from the one I ask. I’m going to limit myself to the impact on people who do the tithing. 

The concept is biblical. The best source is in Genesis 28:16–22. The first person who ever suggested that I tithe was a secular Jew. He had been imprisoned in WWII for refusing the draft, and when he came out of prison at Leavenworth, he moved to New York and lived in the same apartment until his death 45 years later. He vowed never to make enough money to pay income tax and support the war effort in that way. And he did it, thanks to his rent-controlled apartment. He talked about the freedom that gave him and encouraged me to try. 

At the time, I was an ordained minister in the United Church of Canada (in 1925, the Methodists, Presbyterians, and Congregationalists merged). I felt some pressure to lead by example if not by word, and a few years later, I started thinking about following his advice. I had thought of myself as a generous giver to the church, until I moved to northern British Columbia (near the bottom end of Alaska) and met some new people in and around Hazelton, B.C.

One new set of friends was a couple named Jan and Joe Francis, who had come from southern India to work at the church-run hospital. They tithed everything, 10 percent of their gross income. She was an operating room nurse, and he was the comptroller of the hospital, so their income was significant. They also tithed their food. One in ten of the meals they cooked, they made a point of feeding to someone outside their family. They tithed on their garden: they harvested 10 percent of their garden first and then divided the vegetables into bags and delivered them to people they knew would appreciate it. They always left some at the end and invited people to help themselves. They also tithed their labor, giving away more than four hours a week to various community causes and groups. And they did all this without any pretense. I only came to understand these things over time.  

I also want to talk about Charlotte Sampare, who was from the Gitxsan First Nation and taught their tribal language in the local school. Twice a month, she put a check in the offering plate for $129.30; the other weeks she would put in cash. And when she went on unemployment insurance, I noticed the check became only $78.30. Clearly, she was giving 10 percent of her paycheck as a tithe and making offerings the other weeks. It was just automatic: like breathing. Her way of saying thanks for all that she had, and trusted would continue to come to her.

Tithing is the practice of taking the first 10 percent of one’s income and giving it away. It is a statement that we will not be beholden to the almighty dollar.

As I met these people and saw the way they gave, I just assumed that I could not tithe. I wanted to. They looked happy doing it, but I needed more money. In fact, I needed a lot more money to do that.

So I did some calculations. I had recently switched from being a lay minister to an ordained minister and moved to a church that was classified as an aid-receiving charge. This meant that I had to be paid the minimum point on salary scale. The charge I had been working at, paid me 5 percent of the minimum, so I was giving up $1,600 per year to serve the church as an ordained minister (in an church supported with national funds) instead of a being a lay minister (in a self-supporting church that did not have the same salary restrictions.) My wife had a good number of contracts as a freelance writer when we lived on the East Coast, and none of that work could be carried with us, so she had given up $10,000 of income. I was paying back a student loan for my seminary training at a rate of $3,000 per year, and I had asked my parents, in lieu of a Christmas gift, if they could donate $1,500 to the church.

So I was paying, if you will, $1,600 from my salary drop, $10,000 from our income loss, $3,000 for the student loan, and $1,500 from my parents. Now that totals $16,100, but since I regularly worked 48 rather than 40 hours, I added 20 percent to my salary which brought the total up to $22,500. That was what I determined I was “giving” before even paying a penny. I was making $2,000 each month; 10 percent of that would have been $2,400 dollars over a year. 

I had a sit down with God, and I put it this way: As I understand you would like me to tithe $2,400 per year. And you have watched over my shoulder as I made my calculations, so you know I am “paying” the equivalent $22,500 per year. By calculations, you owe me! I reckon you owe me $20,100 per year, but I am generous guy, so I’ll round it down to $20,000. And once you pay me that, I will consider a tithe on my income. And in return, the Inward Light, to my eyes, was remarkably quiet and dim. 

I put the question of tithing aside, but then a good friend in the church said in conversation, “Tithing is part of the Christian experience; I feel sorry for those who are missing it.” And then I went to visit a church, Mount Zion Baptist in Seattle, Washington, where the minister said, “We are not made for tithing, but tithing is made for us.” The Light was flickering. 

At the same time, it occurred to me that I had never in my life met an unhappy tither, but I had met lots of people who talked with resentment about feeling pressure to give at all. 

Over the next few years, a lot changed. First off, God reminded me that I had accepted my ordination and the corresponding move across the country. So really, I had no business giving myself financial credit for doing so. And with time, my income went up, so I no longer could give myself credit for the 5 percent that I had given up when I moved. And after a few years, my wife found work that paid her just as well as the work she had had on the East Coast; I made my last student loan payment; and I acknowledged that any time I worked more than 40 hours per week was my choice. Nobody was asking me to do that. And somehow, I got the message that God’s accountant was a little confused that both my father and I were wanting credit for the same $1,500. All 22,500 of my reasons for not tithing were gone. 

Tithing is freeing and gives joy; both the idea of tithing and the opportunity to tithe is a gift, and for me, it is a gift that God wanted me to have.

What now? I began to make a case that I live in an equal marriage, and I could only choose to tithe on half of my income, and I could not force my will on her half. But then I told her how I wanted to start giving 5 percent of our income away and explained my path. She replied, “Well, don’t put the blame on me without asking me, let’s give 10 percent of your salary. So we agreed that we would start tithing at the rate of $200 per month, 10 percent of my salary. This was in late March. Was this retroactive to January 1, or did it start now? God had been silent on the issue. 

Just three days later, I got a call from a friend asking if he could borrow the exact amount of three months of tithes: $600. He and his family had moved to Vancouver (24 hours of flat-out driving) so he could train as an addiction counselor, and he needed a damage deposit. It was just too well-calculated. I gave him the money and said to myself, if he pays it back, then I will pass it on in another way. 

My wife and I have tithed ever since. Each year, we look at the income figure on our taxes, divide it by ten and we know what our starting mark is for giving. I said at the start that where the tithe goes is not in the scope of this essay. We spread it out between our monthly meeting, other Quaker groups, a scholarship at the local high school, some food security programming, and being able to say yes when we are asked to contribute money somewhere. Any time I hear of something that sounds like it is furthering one of our testimonies, I have the joy of having already committed the money to say yes. 

I told this story the way I have because it is true. It is how it played out for us. But the real messages are what lies beneath: tithing is freeing and gives joy; both the idea of tithing and the opportunity to tithe is a gift, and for me, it is a gift that God wanted me to have. 

I return to the bottom line here: I’ve never met a person who tithes who is unhappy doing so! With that in mind, I invite those of you who are still reading and do not tithe already to take the shoe box challenge: tithe for six months, and in secret, keep your tithes in a shoe box. At the end of six months, take a peek inside. The very worst case is that you have some unexpected savings. The best case would be that you are on your way to receiving this gift for the rest of your life. 

It’s funny that although I don’t often ask why people don’t tithe, I still get a lot of reasons. Maybe it’s not $22,500 worth of reasons—like I had—but I have heard people offer without any prompting: I don’t make enough money; church isn’t that important to me; other people have more to give; I’ve got young children; I’m living on a fixed pension; I have too much debt; I’m saving for retirement; tithing was easier back in the Bible days because they didn’t have taxes; tithing isn’t a Quaker thing; and I give a lot of money away anyway, so I don’t need to. 

The one thing these answers have in common is that none start with the assumption that tithing is a good thing; that tithing is free; and again, in my case, God’s will and desire for me is to experience joy.