Let’s not waste time. Black America, it’s time to confront a hard truth: we are throwing away billions of dollars each year under the banner of faith, tradition, and conditioned religiosity. The numbers don’t lie—and what they reveal is deeply troubling.
According to the U.S. Census Bureau, African Americans make up 13.4% of the U.S. population, roughly 44 million people. A staggering 79% of us identify as Christian, which translates to over 34 million Black Christians. Now here’s where it gets real: even if only a modest 5% of our income is donated to churches—well below the "biblical" tithe of 10%—the collective sum is astronomical.
Let’s do the math.
With an average Black household income of $58,985 a year, that’s about $4,915 a month. Five percent of that equals roughly $245 per family. Multiply that by the number of Black Christians, and what you get is a collective monthly donation of over $8.5 billion. That’s not yearly—that’s every single month.
Let that sink in.
So, the pressing question becomes: what has $8.5 billion a month bought us in terms of progress, security, infrastructure, or real community transformation? If money is power, why does our community remain disproportionately disempowered?
Albert Einstein famously said that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Are we not exhibiting a kind of financial insanity? We funnel generational wealth into institutions that often fail to produce tangible, measurable outcomes for our communities. These are the same institutions that historically remained silent in the face of slavery, colonialism, genocide, and systemic oppression. Where were the churches—especially those in league with the Vatican—when humanity cried out during our darkest hours?
The Pope is considered the "Vicar of Christ"—Christ’s representative on Earth. Yet, silence echoed from the Vatican during the transatlantic slave trade, the Holocaust, and countless wars driven by greed and imperialism. This raises not only moral questions but economic ones. Why do the most marginalized continue to enrich the most powerful institutions on Earth, especially when those institutions are slow to use their wealth and influence for justice?
Let’s be clear: this is not an indictment of faith, belief, or spirituality. It is a call to awaken. The Divine, by definition, does not require our money. God does not bank in dollars, euros, or coins. As Felix Martin writes in Money: The Unauthorized Biography, money is not a thing at all—it is a social agreement, a system, a human-made structure designed to organize behavior and relationships. Currency is merely the token. The real power lies in how we choose to use it.
So why are we still acting like God needs our paycheck?
If we want to be respected as first-class citizens, we must begin to act like economic architects, not just religious attendees. Our donations could be used to fund schools, invest in mental health, build tech startups, create affordable housing, and own more land. It’s not about abandoning faith—it’s about aligning it with strategy, vision, and accountability.
We are at a crossroads. Either we continue funding tradition with blind loyalty, or we pivot toward self-determined financial empowerment. The latter requires courage, clarity, and a commitment to unlearn the patterns that keep us broke and believing that salvation lies at the foot of a pulpit.
The time to wake up is now. Not next year. Not after another revival. Now.
Because true spiritual awakening begins with understanding that God doesn’t need our money—but our communities surely do.
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