Tapu Misa: Tithing disciples are wrong

Cambridge pastor Murray Smith and his wife Michelle swapped their $1 million house for rental accommodation to raise money for their church. Photo / Dean Purcell

Some of you think that I never have a good thing to say about pastors, and it's true that I've been inclined to go on about the ones who are, at best, complacent, self-important and out-of-touch; and at worst, greedy, egotistical, empire-building and unChristian.

So let me rectify that.

Here's a plaudit for the minister of the Samoan church my family first attended in New Zealand, a man who modelled what I understood to be the Christian ideals of service, sacrifice and humility.

He ministered to us when we were struggling, visiting us regularly, always laden with groceries despite having to travel by bus and train to get to us (because he couldn't drive).

And here's another for Rick Warren, a trenchant critic of the so-called prosperity gospel and the pastor of the Saddleback "megachurch" in Lake Forest, California, a church so big it has more than 12ha of carparking and 25,000 worshippers at its Sunday services.

Warren is a superstar in evangelical circles. He gave the inaugural prayer for Barack Obama's swearing-in, and his 2002 book The Purpose Driven Life has sold more than 30 million copies, making it the second best-selling book in English history and the second most translated book in the world (the first being the Bible, of course).

Which would make anyone big-headed, not to mention extremely wealthy. But as he told a group of reporters a few months ago, "when you write a book and the first sentence of the book is, 'It's not about you,' then you figure the money is not for you."

Warren and his wife made a conscious decision not to change their lifestyle.

"I still live in the same house I've lived in for 17 years. I drive a 10-year-old Ford truck. I bought my watch at Wal-Mart. I don't own a boat, I don't own a plane, I don't own a vacation home. I didn't want to be a televangelist."

Warren stopped taking a salary when his book was published. He added up all the money he'd been paid in 25 years of pastoring and paid it all back. Then he decided to "reverse tithe", keeping 10 per cent of income from royalties and giving away the rest.

Much of it funds the Warrens' three charities. One of those helps people infected and affected by Aids and another is a global effort to tackle what Warren sees as the five ills afflicting humanity: poverty, disease, illiteracy, corruption and conflict.

And then there's the Cambridge pastor Murray Smith and his wife Michelle, who swapped their $1 million house for more modest rental accommodation to raise money for their church.

Crazy, you might think, but exactly the kind of selfless work Christians are supposed to do. So why has the image of Christianity taken such a battering lately?

In 1996, a study by The Barna Group in the US found that among "outsiders" - agnostics, atheists, people of other faiths and those with no firm religious convictions - 85 per cent had a favourable impression of Christianity's role in society.

A decade later, as many as two out of five (38 per cent) outsiders aged 16 to 29 had a "bad impression" of Christians.

The most common perceptions among the vast majority of them were that Christians were "anti-homosexual, judgmental and hypocritical" - among a bunch of other depressing negatives, including swaggering, old-fashioned, boring and sanctimonious.

Not selfless, compassionate and forgiving.

It's tempting to blame this on the rise of militant atheism and the media, but the fault lies a little closer to home.

As David Kinnaman wrote in the 2007 book UnChristian, "As I've observed current culture, examined church history, and wrestled with Scripture, it seems clear to me that the source of these negative perceptions is a poorly understood and lived expression of Christianity."

Which brings me to the vexed question of money and tithing. After last week's column, a Destiny church member wrote to me insisting that his church's policy on tithing and prosperity had worked for him.

He's been tithing since he was a 15-year-old earning $40 a week at Muffin Break. He's now 26, owns a $500,000 home freehold, and is debt-free. He and his wife were virgins when they married, spent $50,000 on their wedding and then took a three-week honeymoon in Paris.

They don't "smoke, drink or hit each other", and they credit the church for that.

This would be impressive if it weren't for all those people who've tithed and given offerings for years and still struggle to pay their bills. Are they less worthy or faithful?

Have they not prayed hard enough? Is it their behaviour and attitude that's stopping them from becoming more prosperous?

Apparently.

No wonder churches like Destiny are silent on inequality. When prosperity is a sign of godliness, the needy are shamed into invisibility.

The more I read about what some theologians call the "faulty doctrine" of tithing, the more convinced I am that many pastors have it wrong - even the best ones like Rick Warren.

Even if I'm wrong, the point is this: there is considerable room for challenge and debate but that's not the impression most churchgoers get.

Some people argue that as churches like Destiny change lives and people are free to tithe or not, we should leave well alone.

But should the benefits gained by some justify the harm to others?

No Christian would argue against giving freely and generously. But tithing isn't what the Apostle Paul had in mind when he wrote:

"Each man must give what he has decided in his heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver."