By Dickson M. Wotuku
Let me ask you a rhetorical question: Is giving to the needy — helping the elderly, orphans, and street children — more valuable than donating an envelope of Ksh100,000 towards the purchase of a church keyboard or contributing Ksh1.5M for the pastor’s car? What is more Christ-like, giving Ksh30,000 in a church fundraiser with the promise of “urudishiwe nyota yako,” or quietly feeding the hungry?
Why do people find it so easy to fundraise for church paraphernalias worth millions, yet they hesitate to contribute a fraction of that towards paying school fees for a child in need? “Wakuu huko kwenu mnasemanga sadaka huenda wapi?” Someone once told me that it goes to help the poor and needy. Fair enough. But then, does that mean there are no such vulnerable people within our churches and parishes? How many times have you seen this generosity directly extended to the members of your own congregation?
I have observed people in their struggles, individuals society often judges harshly. People with tattoos, people with dreadlocks in the streets — yet many of these are the same individuals who reach out to street families with love. They offer food, clothes, and compassion to those living in poverty. And then, on the other side, we have men in expensive cars and shiny suits — dressed in black suits, white shirts, and red ties — clutching leather-bound Bibles, loitering in the streets with kiondoo in hand. They collect donations under the guise of spreading the Gospel, exploiting the very people who need their help the most. It’s disheartening to watch them collect money from the innocent and disappear as if they had just passed through, leaving the street children and needy behind to fend for themselves.
Let me ask you: Why is it that a religious leader must be paid before they read a verse from the Bible, the same Word that God gave freely? they say “pokea prayers” and then be charged afterward? “Tuma baasha ya elfu tano,”they’ll say, or *“eka gari mafuta ya Elfu kumi” as a form of compensation for a prayer. Based on your experiences, is this behavior Godly? Is it biblical? Is it the kind of life that Jesus exemplified? If this isn’t a form of spiritual manipulation — or dare I say, witchcraft — then tell me, what is it?
Jesus set a perfect example of selflessness and humility. He never asked for a payment to heal the sick or to speak the truth. The Son of God, our ultimate model of servanthood, served out of love and compassion, not for personal gain.
Let’s turn to the parable of the Good Samaritan in Luke 10:30-37. In this story, Jesus explains how a man was robbed, beaten, and left half-dead on the road. A priest passed by, and later a Levite, both respected religious figures. Yet neither stopped to help. It was a Samaritan — an ordinary civilian, from a group often despised by Jews — who showed compassion. He bandaged the man’s wounds, brought him to an inn, and paid for his care. Jesus shared this parable to demonstrate that love and mercy transcend religious status or appearance.
The message is clear: It is not about how holy or important one looks. The ones we often judge, the ones we think less of, may be the very people who embody Christ’s love. While those who present themselves as righteous and pious may fail when faced with the opportunity to act in compassion.
So, when we stand before the Lord in the end times, we may be surprised to find that those we judged by appearance are seated at His right hand. They may have been the ones who loved and served the way Jesus asked us to — without seeking personal gain or recognition. And those who exploited God’s name for selfish motives may find themselves far from His kingdom.
Let us remember, in God’s eyes, it is the heart that counts — a heart full of love for the least among us. Instead of focusing on flashy donations or self-promotion, we must ask ourselves: Are we truly serving the way Jesus called us to?.
