Imagine a church where every dollar in the offering plate leaves the building. No salary line. No money for operating expenses. Whatever comes in goes out: to a single mom’s electric bill, to a family who needs help moving, to a neighbor whose sink won’t drain.
That’s how Living Faith Church began. I have been its pastor for twenty-five years and have never taken a salary from it. People sometimes ask me what an unpaid pastor does to a church. Here’s my honest answer: it changes the whole culture, mostly for the better, and it comes with costs you should know about.
How it started
Part of the decision was simple necessity. We were planting a church among people who had never been to church. They had no pattern of giving and no theology of supporting a pastor. Some were still figuring out whether they even believed.
Asking brand-new believers to fund my salary felt wrong. It seemed to put the cart before the horse, or worse, to suggest that the gospel came with a price tag. So I went to work, and the church kept its money for others.
Over time, what began as necessity became a conviction. Working for my income wasn’t a concession to the budget. It was the right model for the kind of church we were trying to build.
The church can give its money away
This is the most visible difference. In our early years, Living Faith never took an offering for its own operating expenses. We helped poor people. We paid bills. We funded service projects. We gave to missions.
That generosity became our testimony in the community. People who had no theology of church found it hard to argue with a group of people who showed up when you needed help and never asked for anything in return. It opened more gospel conversations than any sermon I preached.
And it stuck. Twenty-five years later, generosity and service are still what define our church. That culture traces back to a structural decision made at the very beginning.
The preaching changes
Here’s something I didn’t expect. When you preach about generosity without taking a salary, the room changes.
Nobody is wondering whether you have a financial stake in the outcome. Nobody is doing the math on whether your call to give ends up in your paycheck. You’re asking people to do something that costs you too. That changes the nature of the ask.
Paul understood this. He had every right to be supported, and he chose not to use it: “We endure anything rather than put an obstacle in the way of the gospel of Christ” (1 Corinthians 9:12).
It also changed how I preach. I end nearly every sermon with the question “So what?” How does this touch the dinner table tonight or the water cooler tomorrow? That question only lands with authority when the preacher is asking it of himself every day. My day job became a lab for that. I wasn’t asking anything of my congregation that I wasn’t trying to do myself.
This doesn’t make paying a pastor wrong
I need to say this clearly. Paying a pastor is not wrong. Scripture says elders who lead well are worthy of double honor and that the laborer deserves his wages (1 Timothy 5:17–18). A fully funded pastor who preaches faithfully is doing honorable work.
The unpaid model fits a specific kind of church in a specific kind of place, especially a church planting among people who can’t yet support a pastor. It isn’t a badge of superior spirituality. It’s one faithful option among others.
The costs are real too
If you’re considering this model, don’t romanticize it. An unpaid pastor pays in other ways:
- Time. The 4 AM alarm isn’t a season. For me it’s the permanent rhythm.
- Career. Peers will pass you. You’ll need work flexible enough to leave room for the church.
- Family. Your spouse will likely carry more of the household than they would otherwise.
- Energy. The pace that felt exciting at thirty-five feels genuinely taxing at fifty-five.
A church with an unpaid pastor also has to carry more of its own weight. The pastor can’t be everywhere. Elders and members have to share the load, and that’s healthy. But it has to be intentional.
Questions for your church
Whether your pastor is paid, part-time, or unpaid, these are worth asking together:
- What would it mean for our church’s finances if the pastor didn’t need to be paid? What would we do with that money?
- What percentage of what we receive actually leaves the building to serve people who aren’t members?
- If our pastor is bi-vocational, what are we doing to share the load so it doesn’t all fall on one household?
- If our pastor is paid, is there still a way to build a culture where generosity to the community comes first?
The first of those questions is straight from the discussion questions in the book. I’d encourage you to sit with it, even if your answer is that your pastor should be paid. The exercise alone will show you what your church values.
One decision, decades of fruit
I’ve watched one decision about a salary shape a church for a quarter century. Not because the decision was heroic, but because structure forms culture. What you do with money at the beginning teaches people what the church is for.
I tell the fuller story in Second Fiddle, written for pastors and couples counting the cost of bi-vocational ministry. If your leadership team or your marriage is wrestling with these questions, the free discussion guide is a good place to start the conversation.