Praise the Lord, Punch in Your PIN
January 28, 2007
The Orlando Sentinel had a story yesterday about Stevens Creek Community Church in Augusta, Georgia, where “God takes credit cards. Debit cards, too.”
Two “giving kiosks” sit just outside the church’s chapel, next-generation collection plates that allow churchgoers to swipe their credit or debit cards and instantly send donations to the church. . . . Pastor Marty Baker has renamed the black terminals “automatic tithe machines.” “We’re just trying to connect with the culture,” Baker says. “And that’s how the culture does business. It’s more than an ATM for Jesus. It’s about erasing barriers.”
The giving kiosks do seem to have erased some barriers to giving. Since their installation in early 2005, Stevens Creek has experienced an 18% increase in donations. And they are, in some sense, helping the church “connect with the culture.” One woman “says she knew the church was the right fit for her the first time she saw the kiosks. ‘This church gets how I live,’ she says.”
As a Christian committed to helping others understand the joy of giving, I’m intrigued by Pastor Baker’s success in leading his flock to a higher plane of generosity. As a Christian trying to help the Church and the wider society understand each other, I’m encouraged that Stevens Creek is looking for ways to connect with the culture. Yet, I wonder whether there is reason for the Christian mind to be concerned with Pastor Baker’s giving kiosks.
For the Christian, giving is nothing less than an act of worship, an act of surrender to our King, and an acknowledgment of His sovereignty over all.
The act of giving is a vivid reminder that our life is all about God, not about us. It says, “I am not the point, God is the point. He does not exist for me. I exist for him.” God’s money has a higher purpose than my affluence. Giving is a joyful surrender to a greater Person and a greater agenda. Giving affirms Christ’s lordship. It dethrones me and exalts him. It breaks the chains of Mammon that would enslave me and transfers my center of gravity to heaven. . . . As long as I still have something, I believe I own it. But when I give it away, I relinquish the control, power, and prestige that come with wealth. At the moment of release, the light turns on. The magic spell is broken. My mind clears, and I recognize God as owner, myself as servant, and other people as intended beneficiaries of what God has entrusted to me (Randy Alcorn, Money, Possessions, and Eternity, pp.197-8).
When Christians give 10% of their income to the Church, it “symbolizes the giving of one’s whole life to God. . . . It reminds us that all we are and all we have is from God” (id. at 179). We ought to be wary of any contrivances, technological or otherwise, that may obscure the spiritual significance of our giving, and in the process, further remove us from the object of our worship.
[Pastor] Baker compares his technology to the days of the Old Testament when people stopped offering sacrifices and started offering coins. “It’s the same now with bringing plastic,” he says. “It’s an evolution -- and this will take root.”
I hope Pastor Baker is right, and kiosks carry no liabilities. But what if he’s wrong? What if giving kiosks are not entirely benign? At what cost might Stevens Creek be getting this added convenience and consistency for its congregants and enhanced predictability of income for its administrators? Is there no danger that such technology might help remove giving from the realm of worship?
One of the arguments offered by proponents of giving kiosks (and other forms of payment, such as automatic online payments or payroll deductions) is that people today less commonly carry cash or a checkbook. Instead they carry debit and credit cards. Churches that offer alternatives to cash and check thus say that they are “meeting people where they are.” I wonder if it is as simple as that.
“Giving is at its best when it’s a conscious [and deliberate] effort that’s repeatedly made” (Alcorn at 201). To the extent we give without deliberate thought, we risk depleting our giving efforts of a worshipful nature. By relieving congregants of the need to think and prepare for worship by writing a check or bringing cash, might these churches be changing the nature of giving – for the worse? To think christianly about such technology requires that we admit this possibility, doesn’t it?
