Multiply · 5 min read
Money in ministry doesn't have to cost you your dignity. It can be a form of fellowship.
I've never met a planter who liked raising money. I've met plenty who were paralyzed by it. The usual reasons: it feels like begging, it feels like admitting you can't provide, it feels like the ministry is a business and you're the salesman. In many of our cultures, asking for money is close to shameful, and asking family or church friends is worse.
I felt every bit of that. And I also watched planters work sixty-hour weeks at two jobs, gather a church in the cracks, and burn out within three years because they couldn't bring themselves to ask anyone for support. The shame protected their pride and cost them their ministry.
So let me offer a different picture, and then some practical steps.
When Paul wrote to the Philippians, he thanked them for their gift and called it a partnership in the gospel. Not charity. Partnership. When the church in Antioch sent money to Jerusalem during the famine, nobody was begging. One part of the body was carrying another. Giving and receiving in the church has never been a transaction between a needy person and a generous one. It's fellowship. It's how the body of Christ moves resources to where the work is.
That reframe changes the question. You're not asking people to give you money. You're inviting them into something God is doing. Some will say no, and that's fine. But some are waiting to be invited, and your silence is keeping them out.
Now the practical side. First, be clear about what the money is for. Vague needs get vague responses. “I need support” gets sympathy. “We're gathering fifteen Persian families in Barrie and we need $800 a month for a rented space so we're not always in my apartment” gets a cheque. Specificity is respect. It tells people you've thought it through.
Second, tell the story before you make the ask. People give to what they can picture. A short update, a photo, a sentence about a family who came to faith. Then the invitation. Never the invitation alone.
Third, build a rhythm, not a crisis. The worst way to raise money is once a year, in desperation. The best way is a short update every month or two, to the same list of people, whether or not you need anything right now. Most of it is thanks and news. Occasionally there's an ask. People support work they hear from regularly, and they stop supporting work that only contacts them when it's broke.
Fourth, thank people personally and quickly. A handwritten note, a phone call, a message from a family they helped. Not a receipt. People who are thanked well give again. People who are thanked with a form letter drift away and wonder why.
Fifth, let your leaders carry some of this. If you're the only one who can talk about money, your church has a bottleneck and you have a burden. Teach two or three trusted leaders to tell the story and make the invitation. In some of our cultures it's actually easier to hear the ask from someone other than the pastor.
Sixth, deal with what's underneath. When I coach planters on fundraising, we spend more time on the inside than on the letters. Somewhere in most of us is a belief that asking makes us small, or that a real man provides without help, or that God will supply only if we never mention money. Name that belief out loud, hold it up next to Scripture, and you'll usually find it doesn't survive. The practical steps above are easy once the shame is dealt with, and nearly impossible until it is.
One last thing. Some of you are thinking, “I'd rather work a third job than ask.” I understand. But consider what that choice does to your family, your body, and the people you're called to serve. There is no honour in a collapse. The dignified thing is to invite the body of Christ to do what it was built to do.
You're not begging. You're building a partnership. Invite people into it.