Before we talk about features, can I tell you something?
You’re not an entrepreneur. You’re a minister who happens to need an income. And that distinction — the one that seems small — changes everything.
You might feel guilty wanting to be paid for what feels like ministry. Somebody — maybe people in your church, maybe family, maybe just the voice in your own head — told you ministry should be freely given. Your spouse is supportive... But privately, they’re wondering when this starts contributing to the household.
I carried that weight for a long time. I built a website that grew to 300,000+ email subscribers. Watched it collapse -- mostly because I didn’t see what was coming and didn’t respond quickly enough. A failure I own. I plowed tens of thousands of dollars trying to save it. The weekend I admitted defeat, I sobbed in my wife’s arms and didn’t know what would happen next, how I would feed my family or recover from this failure. Out of that wreckage came MeditateOnChrist.com, now serving 19,641+ subscribers since 2016. Born from my own desperate need for peace.
And somewhere in the wreckage, after coaching 800+ therapists, coaches, and business owners, after answering 18,124+ coaching emails one at a time while rebuilding my own life -- I stopped agonizing and started reading. Not self-help. Scripture. With fresh eyes and a question I’d been too afraid to ask: Is it actually wrong to earn through this?
Here’s what I found.
There’s a story in Luke about a man named Zacchaeus. Corrupt tax collector. Rich from exploitation. Jesus could have demanded he give it all away -- he’d said exactly that to the rich young ruler just chapters earlier. Instead, Jesus went to dinner at his house. Zacchaeus volunteered to give half his wealth and repay everyone he’d defrauded. He stayed wealthy. He stayed in his position. And Jesus said: “Today salvation has come to this house.” Not when he became poor. When he redirected what he had.
There’s another story -- a nobleman who gave ten servants one pound each to trade with. Two traded aggressively and multiplied their pounds. The third wrapped his in cloth and hid it. His excuse? “I was afraid.”Pious fear. Reverent caution. Playing it safe for God. And the master was furious. The “safe” choice was the condemned choice. Wrapping your gifts in cloth is not faithfulness. It’s the sin.
I pondered those Bible stories (and many others) for a long time. And here’s the third way I landed on -- not a theology of wealth as reward. Not a theology of poverty as virtue. But this: earning through your teaching sustains the mission. It doesn’t compromise it. There is a godly form of material provision -- the kind where your prosperity stays connected to the people you serve, where your heart grieves for those who suffer even as you build something that flourishes. That’s not indulgence. That’s the design.
Playing small had stopped being humility. At some point it was just fear wearing a church hat. And I realized that guilt wasn’t from God.
The laborer is worthy of his hire. That’s Biblical, not a marketing line. Davar starts there.