A typical service, Ciamacco says, opens with
a band that would fit in at the Coachella
festival, were it not for the Jesus lyrics: “What
a savior, my Redeemer/Friend of sinners, one
like me.” (In one podcast, a pastor, sermonizing
about society’s obsession with markers of
achievement, uses an Internet-approved term
of endearment to channel his audience, asking,
“When am I going to get my own bae?”)
At the end, a member of the “worship team”
will call on parishioners to tithe and pass the
collection plate. But not all people reach into
their wallet. Many take out their phone instead.
Ciamacco gives each week, using the Tithe.ly
app. It takes fewer than five taps, and built-in
geolocation means he can contribute at any of
the 1,000 churches that subscribe—a feature
that’s especially useful around holidays like
Easter, when many people travel.
Tithe.ly lets worshipers set up automatic
recurring payments, but because Ciamacco’s
paycheck fluctuates with his work as a
freelance video producer, he tithes on demand
—usually about 10 percent of whatever he’s
brought in.
“We see people giving all times of day and
night”
Although churches are saying a collective
hallelujah that a new generation of devotees is
filling pews, a youthful congregation has its
limitations. Twentysomethings might find
religion, but not a lot of them have found that
six-figure job. They don’t carry cash—and
what, exactly, is a personal check? Still, about
a quarter of them use mobile payment apps
such as PayPal and Venmo regularly, according
to a recent Accenture survey.
And enormously popular services such as
Seamless, Uber, and Amazon.com have
normalized one-tap payments—91 percent of
millennials use their phone to buy something at
least once a month, market-research firm
Statista says.
Tithe.ly is one of a handful of apps
leveraging that spending behavior for the good
of the church. Pushpay, which about 3,000
congregations employ, works similarly;
worshipers decide whether to donate to a
general budget or a specific program the
institution designates. Another, EasyTithe,
features a text-to-give option. It also provides
technology for a Square-like credit card reader
to await the faithful in church lobbies.
Regardless of which app a congregation
chooses, the point is convenience.
“We call it frictionless giving,” says Dean
Sweetman, Tithe.ly’s co-founder and a former
minister at C3 Atlanta. He designed the app
with C3’s wallet-light clientele in mind: “We see
people giving all times of day and night.
Nothing stands in the way.”
Apparently not. Churches using tithing apps
report they see more donations, more often,
from more people. (Subscribing establishments
either pay a monthly fee or allow the app to
collect a cut of each gift. Tithe.ly lets donators
cover this; Pushpay promises churches a 5
percent spike in donations or their money
back.) But getting parishes with pastors and
members older than 40 to sign on has been
more Job-like.
Tradition is hard to overcome. “In some
churches, if you let the plate go by and you
don’t put something in, you feel a little guilty,”
says Brad Hill, who works in platform services
at EasyTithe. To combat that, some
congregations print out cards that say, “I gave
online.”
Ciamacco’s friend James Crocker, also 25,
says it’s much more awkward to donate the old
way: “Putting your personal credit card details
on a piece of paper and leaving it there? For
millennials, there’s no way.” Ciamacco agrees,
if for different reasons. “I was so anti writing
my name on an envelope—it was a holier-than-
thou thing,” he says. “When Tithe.ly came out, I
was like, ‘Hell, yeah.’ ”
Source: ghana-news.com
