The late-afternoon hush in The Shepherds Cafe had that familiar, steady feel—cups settling onto saucers, the soft hiss of steam, the low murmur of conversations that weren’t trying to impress anyone. In the corner, Elijah had laid his Bible open flat, spine down, the way a man does when he’s not browsing—when he’s investigating.
Jeremiah sat with a notebook and a pencil, not a laptop. Barbara had brought a second Bible and a small stack of index cards. They weren’t arguing. They were doing something rarer: refusing to let popular church phrases do the thinking for them.
Jeremiah broke the silence. “Last night someone asked, ‘Are we supposed to tithe, or just give offerings?’ That’s a fair question.”
Elijah nodded once. “And it’s a dangerous question—if we answer it with slogans instead of Scripture. So we do this the Berean way. We define the words from the text, and we trace how the words are used.”
Barbara slid an index card across the table. On it she’d written three headings in neat handwriting:
TITHE — OFFERING — GIVING
“Let’s take them one at a time,” she said. “And let’s stop treating them like synonyms.”
1) Tithe: not “any giving,” but “a tenth”
Jeremiah tapped the first heading. “The New Testament word behind tithe is tied to a number. In Greek, dekatē literally means a tenth. It isn’t a mood. It’s a measurement.”
Elijah looked up. “So, if we call every Christian contribution a ‘tithe,’ we’re already drifting. Because a tithe is not ‘whatever you give.’ It’s a tenth—defined.”
Barbara leaned in. “And the New Testament contexts where tithing shows up—what are they?”
Jeremiah flipped pages like a man counting evidence, not trying to win a point. “Look at who’s tithing in the Gospels: Pharisees. Jesus says they tithe down to herbs—mint, dill, cumin—while neglecting weightier matters like justice and mercy. That tells you something important: tithing was real and precise in Jewish practice, but it could still coexist with a rotten heart.”
Elijah let that settle. “So tithe is clearly a covenant practice inside Israel’s world—real, measurable, and sometimes abused by hypocrites.”
Barbara’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Which means the first fact we have is this: tithe language in the New Testament is consistently connected to Jewish legal religious life, not to instructions for church giving.”
Jeremiah added quietly, “And Hebrews uses tithe language in an argument about priesthood—Abraham and Melchizedek—not as a church budget lesson.”
Elijah’s voice stayed calm, but firm. “That’s the Berean moment. The text doesn’t treat ‘tithe’ as the New Covenant command for Christians. If we teach otherwise, we’re importing vocabulary without importing context.”
2) Offering: presented to God, worship-shaped
Barbara pointed at the second heading. “All right—offering.”
Jeremiah’s pencil moved across his notebook. “In the New Testament, offering often emphasizes presentation. It’s something brought forward—given as an act of worship. You see the concept when Jesus talks about bringing your gift to the altar. That’s not ‘paying dues.’ That’s worship.”
Elijah nodded. “Offering language is often bound to the idea of worship and sacrifice. It’s the posture of the giver: ‘I’m presenting something to God.’”
Barbara looked from one to the other. “So here’s a fact we can’t ignore: offering is not automatically ‘church contribution.’ Sometimes it refers to worship gifts in Jewish settings. Sometimes it’s applied spiritually—praise, obedience, a life surrendered.”
Jeremiah underlined a line on his page. “That’s why Romans talks about a living sacrifice. Hebrews talks about sacrifice of praise. The language expands: the New Covenant pushes offering beyond coins into the whole self.”
Elijah added, “Which means offering language can be used properly—but also easily abused. If someone talks like offerings buy favor, that’s not New Testament worship; that’s religious bargaining.”
Barbara’s mouth tightened. “So we’ve got another solid fact: the New Testament often reframes offering as worship, not as a price tag.”
3) Giving: grace-driven, purposeful, and shared
Jeremiah slid the notebook toward Elijah. “Now we come to the heartbeat: giving in the church.”
Elijah didn’t rush. He turned to Paul—because if someone wants first-century Christian practice, they need to live where the first-century church actually learned it.
“In 2 Corinthians 8–9,” Elijah said, “Paul frames generosity as grace. He doesn’t treat it as a legal minimum. He treats it as a Spirit-shaped response to what Christ has done.”
Barbara nodded slowly. “That’s a big factual shift from the way a lot of people talk.”
Jeremiah added, “Paul also uses words that carry the idea of partnership and sharing. The point isn’t merely ‘funding.’ It’s participation—saints caring for saints, and churches cooperating in mercy and mission.”
Elijah’s finger traced along the page. “And in 1 Corinthians 16:1–2, Paul describes an organized practice: on the first day of the week, each person sets aside as they may prosper. That’s not impulsive giving. That’s planned giving—regular, intentional, and proportional.”
Barbara leaned back, satisfied in the way someone is when the facts start forming a clean line. “So here’s what the first-century evidence tells us, plainly:
The New Testament mentions tithing mainly in Jewish contexts—Pharisees, temple-era thinking, priesthood arguments. Offerings often carry worship-presentation language—sometimes Jewish, sometimes spiritually applied to Christian devotion. Church giving is taught most directly as grace-driven, purposeful, planned participation—especially in Paul’s letters.”
Jeremiah smiled faintly. “That’s not opinion. That’s just where the words land.”
The uncomfortable question: are we using the terms properly?
Elijah closed his Bible halfway—not to end the study, but to mark a conclusion.
“We use them properly when we refuse to weaponize them,” he said. “If someone says ‘tithe’ but means ‘any giving,’ we’ve already blurred facts. If someone says ‘offering’ but means ‘God will bless you if you pay Him,’ we’ve turned worship into transaction.”
Barbara’s tone was sharper now, but still respectful. “And we use them improperly when we speak in ways the apostles didn’t speak. If Paul teaches giving as grace and willing purpose—and we teach it as a tax—then we’re not just changing vocabulary. We’re changing the spirit of the instruction.”
Jeremiah looked down at his notes. “Modern Christians often don’t mean harm. But good intentions don’t fix bad categories. If we train people to think ‘tithe equals New Covenant law,’ some will become proud at ten percent, some will despair under ten percent, and some will resent the whole thing. Those aren’t the fruits Paul was after.”
Elijah’s voice softened. “The New Testament fruit is different: gratitude, generosity, steadiness, and love that shows up in real help.”
First-century examples that match the meanings
Barbara flipped an index card and began listing examples like a teacher building a reference chart for her own conscience.
Tithe examples (a defined tenth):
Pharisees tithing meticulously—even down to small herbs—while neglecting weightier matters. Abraham’s tenth referenced in the priesthood discussion in Hebrews.
Offering examples (presented worship-gifts / sacrifice language):
Bringing a gift in a worship context—where reconciliation matters more than ritual. The offering/sacrifice framework applied to Christian life: praise, surrender, devotion.
Giving examples (church practice, grace-shaped and organized):
The Macedonians giving beyond their ability, voluntarily—giving as grace in action. The first-day setting aside in 1 Corinthians 16—planned, proportional, consistent.
Jeremiah tapped the table lightly. “So if someone asks, ‘Which one am I supposed to do?’ the Berean answer is: Christians are commanded to give—willingly, purposefully, generously—under grace. Tithing is a defined Old Covenant concept and appears in Jewish contexts. Offerings describe worshipful presentation and sacrifice language.”
Elijah nodded. “And the way we speak should match the way Scripture speaks. Not because we’re trying to be pedantic, but because sloppy language creates sloppy discipleship.”
Barbara smiled, and it wasn’t sentimental. It was satisfied—the way Christians of old must have felt when the fog lifted and the Word stood clear.
“Now,” she said, gathering the index cards, “let’s do what Bereans do next: not only confirm what’s true—but decide how to live it. Not with guilt. With gratitude.”