It's about the money
If we want church to thrive, we need to find new ways to sustain it
Frustrating conversations I’ve had recently:
I applied for a ‘ministry innovation’ grant, and did not get it (again). Why? My ministry is actually a business (an LLC), and the granting agency will only award money to non-profits.
When I argued - pretty passionately - that having a ministry that is an LLC is the innovation, they were unmoved.
A few weeks later, a colleague (who had no idea I applied) casually mentioned that she had received one of those grants. For a ministry that was lovely? Yes. Innovative - I don’t think so.I was in a conversation with a different colleague and we were talking about a church organization that has ‘innovation’ in its title. And how the ministry they were doing seemed like the same old, same old: let’s try the old system in a new way (I call it the ‘pub church syndrome’).
We were discussing how meager the offerings were, and how hard it must be for the leaders to take risks - because they get a salary from the institutional church, and they are subject to ‘death by a thousand committees’.Yet another grant application passed me by (I did not even bother to apply to this one).
Later, a third colleague casually mentioned that her congregation was awarded one of the grants - and they didn’t even really need the money. It was just a nice bonus - an an affirmation that they were moving in a good direction (again, by my own definition, the proposed ministry - ‘outreach’ to certain populations - is nice but not actually changing anything (nor is it well-defined).
I admit, all of these conversations got me down.
To re-iterate, none of the people I was talking with were privy to where I was coming from - I didn’t know how to talk about it without seeming to criticize them. And certainly, they were all coming from good places, for good reasons.
But it’s all re-arranging deck chairs on the Titanic.
How do I know?
In each case, I did ask three things:
What is the goal of the proposed ‘innovative’ ministry?
How will you know when you’ve achieved it - how will you measure it?
How will it be sustainable into the future?
None of those I spoke with had answers. In fact, they seemed surprised by the questions.
I have to ask myself a hard question, too:
Am I just bitter and envious because I hustle so hard to keep my own ministry afloat?
Well, yes.
And: no.
On the one hand, sure. I would take an angel investment (or a grant) to support the work I do. (And if you’re in a position to have this conversation, please call me!).
On the other hand, stringing one contract, subscription, or course after another together is how I’m learning that church can happen in new ways.
Here’s what I know, 100%:
We will not see the church reborn until we figure out new ways to finance it - and to financially support ministers.
🔅🔅 Subscribers - stay tuned at the end of this article for one way I’ve found …
I know this is hard - it’s uncomfortable, we don’t want to talk about money and God in the same sentence.
Ministry shouldn’t be about money - we have higher aims. We know what Jesus says to the rich man: give away your possessions.
Lots of people send me well-meaning notes about the sin of commodifying religion.
AND…
It’s an issue as old as the church.
Paul may (or may not) have been a tentmaker, but he sure railed on and on about how ministers should be paid, and reminded everyone to take up collections in the congregation.
Even Jesus said, ‘the laborers deserve to be paid’.
The question facing us today is not really if ministers deserve to be paid - and if religious communities should thrive financially - but how.
The mainline denominational church mindset seems to be that it’s perfectly ok for ministers to receive professional-level salaries, and to gather donations and utilize endowment funds to support ministry.
But as those paid positions become fewer, the donations dry up, and the funds start to dwindle - it’s not ok to find other ways to support the transformational work of helping people know Jesus.
To me, there’s discernment in seeing what is working, and what isn’t.
We keep struggling to make our budgets, keep being unable to pay our ministers, keep finding ourselves stymied in actually doing the ‘ministry’ part of ministry (as opposed to the fundraising part taking up so much of our energy)…
And we’re stuck! We keep insisting that money isn’t the problem as we close church doors.
Maybe this is a sign that we are being called in a new direction.
One that feels more abundant, more joyful, more creative, more connected.
In yet another conversation I was having recently, a friend asked me if I would ever go back to full-time ministry in a congregation.
I actually surprised myself with my vehemence when I said: ‘you could not pay me any amount of money to take a standard institutional church job right now’.
My friend was a little taken aback!
’Why not?’, she asked.
It’s because of the joy.
I feel more connected to my own priesthood, more focused on my own faith, and more energized about sharing Good News as a creative entrepreneur.
Every time someone subscribes to my newsletter, signs up for a workshop, or enters into a consulting contract with my ministry, I know we are consciously collaborating on more peace, more love, more healing, more miracles.
More Jesus.
I know we are not signing up for a relationship in which they will spend ‘church’ time complaining about gossip or why the walkways aren’t getting swept.
Instead, we will be sharing our faith journeys with each other and supporting our mutual discipleship.
Here’s the beautiful secret about ministry innovation:
There’s a lot of uncertainty
There’s a lot of failure
There’s definitely discomfort
And … when those moments come where you feel the power of resurrection joy, it’s worth the struggle.
It’s way more than the money. But if we don’t charge money for it, others won’t see the value. And they won’t take their own risk to share their own calling.
It feels like walking the footsteps of the first disciples.