“But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing.” — Matthew 6:3 (ESV)
For decades, the passing of the offering plate was as much a part of Sunday morning as hymns and handshakes. As a kid, I remember the thrill of dropping a shiny quarter in the plate—roughly ten percent of my allowance—because that’s what I was taught good Christians did. A minimum standard. A religious formula. A number tied to righteousness.
By the time I had my own giving envelopes—with my name, my number, and my weekly slot on the calendar—something subtle shifted. Giving became less about worship and more about being seen doing the right thing. I didn’t just give; I managed perception. If I put in a $20 bill, I folded it so others couldn’t judge the size of the gift. And if I’m honest… I judged others when the plate passed them by.
If I was watching, surely they were too.
It’s ironic—what was intended to be an act of worship became an exercise in quiet comparison. A ritual of scrutiny. A performance of generosity rather than an overflow of gratitude.
But then something unexpected happened:
The pandemic eliminated the plate.
Online giving emerged, and suddenly the show was over. No more eyes scanning the pews. No more internal scorekeeping. Just a quiet, personal offering between you and God.
And maybe… that’s how it was always meant to be.
A Better Way—Jesus’ Way
Jesus recalibrated the entire conversation around giving:
- Giving is meant to be secret (Matthew 6:1–4).
- Generosity flows from the heart, not from obligation (2 Corinthians 9:6–7).
- God measures motives, not amounts (Mark 12:41–44).
- Love—not religious performance—is the standard (1 Corinthians 13:3).
Passing the plate wasn’t wrong. But somewhere along the way, our hearts got tangled in comparison, fear, obligation, and optics.
Online giving—stripped of audience and ritual—reminded us of a simple truth:
Giving was never meant to be a show. It was meant to be worship.
A quiet act of trust.
A response of love.
A private moment of obedience between you and God—hidden to everyone else.
And in that hiddenness, something beautiful happens:
Freedom returns. Joy returns. The heart of generosity returns.
May we learn to give as Jesus taught—open-handed, unobserved, and unafraid.
And that’s the mid-week memo.
Steve
