Nobody Questions the 10% — And That Should Scare You
There is a question many Nigerians are afraid to ask.
Not because they don’t have the question.
But because they fear what happens if they ask it out loud.
When did giving to God become a monthly bill?
For generations, millions of Christians have faithfully surrendered 10% of their income to the church. Some do it immediately after receiving their salary. Some do it before paying rent. Some do it before buying food. Some do it while struggling to survive.
And yet very few ever stop to ask a simple question:
Is tithing actually a commandment for Christians, or is it simply a tradition that has become too powerful to challenge?
The uncomfortable truth is that many believers know the rule, but not the origin.
Many know they must pay 10%.
Few know where the 10% came from.
Many know they will be reminded if they don’t give.
Few know whether Jesus Himself ever commanded Christians to surrender 10% of their salaries.
That alone should raise eyebrows.
Because if a teaching can take money from your pocket every month, shouldn’t you at least know where it comes from?
The deeper issue isn’t money.
It’s fear.
Many Nigerians have been taught that failure to tithe is equivalent to robbing God. Some have been told their financial struggles are the result of not paying tithe. Others have been warned that blessings, protection, promotion, and breakthroughs are somehow connected to a percentage.
Think about that.
If a person gives because they love God, that is generosity.
If a person gives because they are terrified of what might happen if they don’t, that is something entirely different.
At what point did faith become a financial obligation?
At what point did questioning become rebellion?
Because the moment someone asks for evidence, they are often treated as if they are attacking God Himself.
But questioning a pastor is not necessarily questioning God.
Questioning a teaching is not necessarily rejecting faith.
In fact, the strongest faith should be able to survive the strongest questions.
Look around any church on Sunday.
The people funding the system are often not the wealthy elite.
They are market women.
Civil servants.
Students.
Bus drivers.
Young graduates.
Single mothers.
People who cannot afford mistakes.
People whose 10% can determine whether food reaches the table.
Yet these are often the people under the greatest pressure to give.
The irony is difficult to ignore.
The poorest are frequently the most faithful contributors to promises of future prosperity.
And for many, the miracle always seems to remain one offering away.
If any other institution demanded 10% of your income every month, questions would naturally follow.
Where is the money going?
Who oversees it?
How is it being spent?
Who benefits from it?
But the moment religion enters the conversation, accountability suddenly becomes disrespect.
Silence becomes holiness.
Curiosity becomes rebellion.
And blind obedience becomes virtue.
Perhaps the most dangerous thing a believer can do today is not stop attending church.
It is not stop praying.
It is not stop believing.
The most dangerous thing a believer can do is read.
Read beyond sermons.
Read beyond traditions.
Read beyond what they’ve been told.
Because many people know what their pastor says about tithing.
Far fewer know what the Bible says in its entirety.
And that is where the real controversy begins.
This article is not telling anyone to stop giving.
It is not attacking faith.
It is not attacking God.
It is asking something far more uncomfortable:
Before you give 10% of your income, have you given 10 minutes to understanding why?
Because the most expensive belief in Nigeria may not be tithing itself.
It may be the belief that some questions should never be asked.
And history has shown that the moment people start asking questions, powerful systems begin to shake.
