Media personality reveals she now channels monthly tithe to widows, strangers, and maternity wards after concluding many churches are already financially comfortable
Media personality Toke Makinwa has ignited a fresh debate on tithing after revealing that she no longer pays her monthly tithe to churches—choosing instead to redirect the money directly to hospitals, widows, and individuals in urgent need.
In a candid YouTube video posted Saturday, Makinwa explained her spiritual and practical evolution, describing how she moved from being someone who once handed over an entire endorsement fee as a tithe to someone who now questions where religious funds actually go.
'All the Churches I Know Are Rich'
Makinwa's core argument was stark in its simplicity: churches, she believes, no longer need the money the way struggling individuals do.
"I kind of stopped paying tithe to the church because all the churches I know are rich," she said. "And I decided that no, no, no, no, I ain't doing this anymore. I would rather go to hospitals, widows' homes."
She pointed to the ubiquitous presence of building fund envelopes and weekly appeals as evidence that many religious institutions have accumulated significant wealth—wealth that, she noted, remains untaxed.
"You guys have so much money, and it's not taxed. It's a business, if I'm going to be real," Makinwa asserted, adding that leadership succession in some churches often remains within families. "If that pastor dies today, either his wife or his child becomes the next pastor."
A Personal Evolution
The media personality contrasted her current stance with her younger self, revealing that she was once the embodiment of faithful tithing.
"Ten years ago, I was the girl who got a brand endorsement deal, didn't touch one naira double digits, and carried everything to church," she recalled. "I said I will tithe this to God so that my life will never be tight."
That approach, she suggested, no longer aligns with her convictions.
What She Does Now
Makinwa emphasized that she hasn't stopped giving entirely—she has simply redirected where and how she gives.
"I give an offering in church. And if the church needs anything, I would support the house of God for programmes, anything. But that monthly tithe," she clarified.
Her new approach is targeted and personal. "I would rather go to hospitals, take a maternity ward, and pay all the bills there. I would rather when strangers come to meet me, I would tithe my tithe to them because they are telling me their actual needs."
She framed this as a matter of consistency with faith. "How can I say I love God? I have the money this person is looking for to pay rent, and I'm carrying it to a church?"
Anticipating Criticism
Makinwa acknowledged that her position might draw backlash, particularly from those who hold strict interpretations of biblical tithing commands. Her response was measured: "Do whatever it is in your conviction to do," she said, noting that interpretations differ.
Broader Context
The media personality's comments arrive amid growing public conversation about wealth, accountability, and transparency in Nigeria's religious institutions. In recent months, several high-profile pastors have faced scrutiny over lavish lifestyles, private jets, and opaque church finances. A 2025 investigation by *The Daily Nigerian* revealed that some clergy members have accumulated private fortunes while their congregations struggle with economic hardship.
Recent data from the National Bureau of Statistics shows that over 63% of Nigerians live in multidimensional poverty, while the country's religious sector—one of the most vibrant in the world—operates with minimal regulatory oversight. According to the Abuja-based Center for Religious Freedom, Nigeria has an estimated 35,000 registered churches, with thousands more operating informally, yet the sector remains largely untaxed despite generating billions in annual revenue.
The conversation has even reached legislative halls. In January 2026, Senator Enyinnaya Abaribe introduced a bill seeking to regulate church finances and mandate transparency in the use of tithes and offerings, arguing that "religion has become one of the biggest unregulated industries in Nigeria." The bill is currently awaiting second reading.
Social Media Reacts
Unsurprisingly, Makinwa's video ignited a firestorm of reactions across social media platforms.
Supporters applauded her honesty. One X user wrote: "Toke said what many are thinking but afraid to say. The church has become a business and tithe is the monthly subscription."
Another commented: "She's not wrong. How many pastors account for tithes? We give and give while they fly private jets. At least she's sure the hospital bills are paid."
Critics, however, accused her of scriptural ignorance. A user responded: "Tithing is between you and God. The church doesn't need your money—God doesn't need your money. You need to obey. Simple."
A pastor weighed in on Instagram: "Tithes are for the storehouse, not for your discretion. If you redirect tithe, you're robbing God, no matter how noble the cause."
The Unanswered Question
Makinwa's challenge cuts to the heart of a dilemma faced by many faithful Nigerians: if religious institutions are visibly wealthy while congregants struggle, what is the purpose of continued giving? Her answer—redirecting resources to those with demonstrated need—offers one path forward.
Whether that path aligns with biblical teaching, as she acknowledges, is a matter of individual conviction. What is undeniable is that her video has given voice to a question millions are quietly asking: when the church has so much, and the poor have so little, where should the money go?
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