“I CAN AFFORD IT, BUT I WON'T PAY”: MY COVID-19 WAKE-UP CALL ON TITHES, ARMED ROBBERS IN ROBES, AND THE GHANAIAN CHURCHES

“I CAN AFFORD IT, BUT I WON'T PAY”: MY COVID-19 WAKE-UP CALL ON TITHES, ARMED ROBBERS IN ROBES, AND THE GHANAIAN CHURCHES

By : Honeybrowne Okaakyire 

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It started, as most modern revolutions do, with a Facebook post.

I was scrolling through my feed on a lazy Accra evening; the hot evening, the power threatening to ‘dumsor’ when a name I didn’t recognize popped up. A woman. Angry. Exhausted. And brutally honest. ( I LOVED HER SUBMISSION) Her words were a dagger wrapped in a digital screenshot:

“I can afford but I won’t pay my tithes anymore. You Pastors, Bishop and elders are all armed robbers.”

Below her declaration, the numbers told a story of their own: 15+ comments, 6 shares, 1 reaction. Only one person had the courage to hit the ‘like’ button. Everyone else was either too scared to engage or too indoctrinated to admit she had a point.

She wasn’t broke. She wasn’t begging. She simply stated that she could afford to pay her tithes but was choosing not to, citing a “lack of transparency in how the funds are used.”

And just like that, the ghost that has haunted Ghanaian Christianity for decades was finally named in public: The tithe is no longer a covenant; it is a racket.

But let me take you further back. Before you judge this woman or myself, let me tell you what I saw during the COVID-19 lockdown. Because that is where my own testimony ends and my awakening begins.

Part One: The Lockdown Revelation (My Personal COVID-19 Experience)

We remember COVID-19 as the year the world stopped. But here in Ghana, for the devout Christian, it was the year the church went digital and greedy on their members and congregants. 

I was a loyal tither. Every month, without fail, I calculated my 10% before I calculated my rent. It wasn’t just a law; it was my insurance policy. “Bring ye all the tithes into the storehouse” (Malachi 3:10) was the spiritual ATM code. You punch it in, and God opens the windows of heaven. At least, that is what the man in the $500 Gucci shoes told me every Sunday.

Then came March 2020. The President announced the partial lockdown. Accra and Kumasi became ghost towns. Markets closed. Taxi ranks emptied. The daily worker, the mama selling fried yam, the bɔfra washing windscreens suddenly had no income.

I lost my side hustle. My main job reduced salaries by 40%. I remember sitting in my one-bedroom apartment in Accra, counting my last bag of rice, listening to my neighbor’s baby cry because the milk had run out.

And what were our spiritual fathers doing?

THE USSD GENERATION 

My phone buzzed. It was a message from my church’s official number. I expected a prayer line, a food distribution point, or at least a verse of encouragement.

Instead, I saw a USSD code.

“Dear beloved, even in lockdown, do not rob God. Dial *711# to pay your tithes and offerings. Remember, the windows of heaven open for the obedient.”

I stared at that code. Outside, people were dying of hunger. The police were beating citizens for buying bread. And somewhere in a 24-hour prayer camp, a pastor was checking his mobile money float.

I called a friend who attended a different “Praise Cathedral” in Tema. He told me his church had sent a similar code. But that wasn’t the worst part.

“They are also sharing notes,” he whispered.

“Notes?”

“Face masks. Just one piece per family. But before they gave you the mask, you had to show proof of your last tithe payment.”

Let that sink in. During a global pandemic, a face mask; a basic health necessity was weaponized as a reward for tithing. If you were hungry, broke, and hadn’t paid your 10%, you could die of COVID-19 outside the church gates. But if you had dialed that USSD code? Come in, brother. Here is your polyester mask.

THE HUNGER IN THE ROOM 

Meanwhile, pastors were livestreaming from their mansions. I saw one Bishop in East Legon sitting behind a mahogany desk, seven iPhones on the table, preaching about “sowing a seed of Gh₵500 to unlock your financial destiny.” His wife’s wig probably cost more than my annual rent.

I LOST FOUR FRIENDS DURING THAT PERIOD. NOT TO COVID. TO HUNGER.

One of them, a young church usher named Kofi, stopped coming to online service. When I finally reached him, he told me, “Francis, I cannot pay tithe on zero. I am eating once a day. And my pastor just posted a video of his new Lexus.”

Kofi left the church. Not because he hated God. But because he realized the man on the altar was using God’s name to run a protection racket: Pay me, or the devil will block your blessings.

Part Two: THE ANATOMY OF AN ARMED ROBBERS IN ROBES 

Now, let’s go back to that woman’s Facebook comment. She called pastors, bishops, and elders “armed robbers.”

That is a strong word. In Ghana, we don’t say that lightly. An armed robber is someone who points a weapon at you and demands your valuables under threat of death.

But think about it.

When a pastor tells a hungry fisherman, “If you don’t pay your tithe, you are cursed with a curse” (Malachi 3:8-9 again), what is that if not spiritual armed robbery?

• The Weapon: Fear of hell, fear of poverty, fear of ancestral stagnation.

• The Demand: 10% of gross income (and don’t forget the “first fruits,” “thanksgiving,” “harvest,” and “building fund”).

• The Threat: “You will die poor. Your children will fail. The windows of heaven will shut.”

That is a spiritual AK-47.

And the most tragic part? We Ghanaians are among the most generous people on earth. We will give our last cedis to a man of God because we believe he is our bridge to heaven. But what happens when that bridge is a toll both run by fraudsters?

TRANSPARENCY? WHAT TRANSPARENCY?

The woman in the post hit the nail on the head: Lack of transparency.

I have a challenge for every pastor reading this (and I know you will). Publish your church’s audited financial statements. Right now. Show us:

1. How much came in from tithes last year?

2. How much went to the poor?

3. How much went to the pastor’s salary?

4. How much went to the private school your children attend?

5. How much went to buying that Range Rover?

Crickets.

Because the truth is, for many of these “men of God,” the tithe is not for the storehouse (which in the Old Testament was a communal grain silo for widows, orphans, and foreigners). It is for the warehouse, their personal warehouse of luxury.

I recall a famous Ghanaian prophet who told his congregation, “The tithe is the only area God allows you to test Him.” So the people tested. They paid. And the prophet bought a private jet. Not a hospital. Not a school for the needy. A jet. Oh Africa and Christianity. 

Meanwhile, the widow who paid that tithe is still struggling to pay her child’s school fees.

Part Three: The Silence of the Elders (And the Complicity of the Sheep)

But let me not be one-sided. The problem is not just the pastor. The problem is also the elder who sits in the front row, wearing a $2,000 suit, watching the pastor drive a new car every three months, and saying nothing.

Why? Because the elder is also benefiting. He gets “honor” in the church. His business is “prayed for” during service. He is given a title “Elder” or “Deacon” which he uses to network with other wealthy members.

The poor man pays his tithe and gets a shout-out: “Brother Francis has sown a seed of GHS 50! Clap for him!”

The rich elder pays his tithe and gets a private dinner with the Bishop.

And the cycle continues.

THE THEOLOGY PROBLEM: ARE WE REALLY UNDER THE LAW?

Here is where my own journey took a sharp turn. I started reading the Bible, not the verses my pastor highlighted, but the whole thing.

Tithing was instituted under the Mosaic Law. It was agricultural (animals, grain, wine). It was for the Levites (who had no land inheritance) and the poor.

But then Jesus came.

Paul writes in Galatians 3:13: “Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law.”

So if we are not under the law, why are we still tithing? Why do pastors preach Malachi (Old Testament) but ignore Deuteronomy 14, where the law says you can convert your tithe into money and spend it on whatever you crave, strong drink included? (Yes, read it. Deuteronomy 14:26.)

If you are going to demand tithes under the law, then also demand animal sacrifices. But you won’t, because that would be expensive.

The truth is, the New Testament church practiced freewill offerings (2 Corinthians 9:7): “Each of you should give what you have decided in your heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver.”

But “cheerful giving” doesn’t buy private jets. Compulsory tithing does.

Part Four: The Woman Who Said “No”

Let me return to that brave woman on Facebook. I managed to find her profile (we have mutual friends).

Her name is Ama (not real name, for her safety). She is a trader at Makola. She owns two shops. She can afford to pay tithes. She is not poor.

But she told me in a DM: “Francis, I stopped paying when my pastor asked for a ‘special COVID-19 seed’ of GHS 1,000. I was at home, my goods had spoiled because the market was closed, and he was on Facebook Live saying, ‘Give until it hurts.’ I realized then: They don’t see us as people. They see us as ATMs.”

Ama now gives her 10% directly to her neighbor’s children’s school fees. She buys food for the kayayei (head porters). She pays hospital bills for strangers.

“I am still tithing,” she says. “Just not to the armed robbers in robes.”

And here is the kicker: Ama has not been cursed. Her business is booming. Her children are healthy. The windows of heaven did not shut. They opened wider when she stopped funding luxury lifestyles and started funding mercy.

Part Five: A Call for a New Reformation in Ghana

It is time for a Ghanaian Reformation.

500 years ago, Martin Luther nailed 95 thesis to a church door because the church was selling “indulgences” (forgiveness for money). Today, our pastors are selling “breakthroughs” for tithes.

We need to separate our faith in God from our financial exploitation by men.

Here is my proposal:

1. If you are a Christian, give. Give generously. Give cheerfully. But give where you see fruit. Give to the poor directly. Give to organizations that publish their accounts. Give to the church if that church publishes a monthly budget.

2. Ask questions. The next time your pastor says, “You cannot question the anointed,” remind him that Paul invited the Bereans to examine the scriptures daily (Acts 17:11). If you can examine scripture, you can examine a bank statement.

3. Stop the shame game. If you cannot afford to tithe, do not borrow to tithe. Do not pay tithe and starve. God is not a terrorist demanding a ransom.

4. Report financial misconduct. The Ghana Revenue Authority (GRA) has started taxing churches. Good. If a pastor is driving a Bentley on tax-free “donations,” that is fraud. Let the law handle it.

To the Pastors Who Are Real:

I know not all pastors are armed robbers. I know genuine men of God who live modestly, feed the poor, and never mention tithe in the same sentence as a private jet. To you, I say: Thank you. You are the salt of the earth. But you are being drowned out by the noise of the charlatans.

Please, speak up. Call out your colleagues who have turned the altar into a toll booth. Silence is complicity.

Conclusion: My Final Tithe

I no longer pay tithe to any church that refuses to show me its books. Instead, I take 10% of my income every month and put it in a separate mobile money wallet. By December, I use that money to pay school fees for two children in my neighborhood whose father died.

I call it my Kingdom Tithe. God sees it. And I have never been more at peace.

That woman on Facebook was right. She can afford to pay, but she chooses not to because she has seen behind the curtain. The pastors and bishops who scream “You are robbing God” are often the ones robbing the poor.

COVID-19 stripped the mask off the church. We saw USSD codes while people starved. We saw notes (masks) while pastors bought iPhones. We saw hunger while men of God preached prosperity.

The question is not whether you can afford to tithe. The question is: Can you afford to keep funding a system that exploits the name of Jesus for private gain?

As for me and my house? We will serve the poor directly.

And the armed robbers in robes? They can keep their USSD codes.

Do you agree or disagree? Have you experienced church financial exploitation? Drop your story in the comments below. Let’s talk. Ghana must wake up. 🇬🇭

#Tithes #GhanaChurch #COVID19Hypocrisy #ArmedRobbersInRobes #FaithNotFraud