Money, Power, and Trust: Exploring the Safeguarding Overlap in Church Giving

guardingtheflock
Nov 7
4 min read

Let’s be honest: money is one of the most awkward topics in church life. It makes congregations fidget, clergy anxious, and dioceses demanding.

With cost of living crisis biting harder each month and the government’s impending budget offering little hope — that awkwardness feels heavier than ever. Across the country, many churches are fighting to keep going amid rising parish share demands, dwindling attendance, and the mounting cost of maintaining ancient buildings.

Behind every balance sheet sits a vicar, treasurer,

or churchwarden losing sleep over how to heat the church this winter. Many clergy and lay leaders feel the relentless pressure to “make the numbers work,” even when it’s clearly unsustainable. The emotional toll can be immense — guilt, burnout, and a creeping sense of failure when faithfulness doesn’t seem to add up financially.

Money has been the golden thread running through the Church’s history — shaping ministry, mission, and survival alike. Yet in desperate times, the temptation to lean on emotional or spiritual pressure to keep the books balanced becomes all too real. Where there is trust, vulnerability, and unequal power, there is the potential for harm. That includes financial harm. This isn’t just a conversation for finance committees. It’s a safeguarding conversation — about protecting the wellbeing of both clergy and congregations.

Financial Safeguarding Is People Safeguarding

When we talk about safeguarding, many people think solely of protecting children or vulnerable adults from abuse. But safeguarding is broader than that. Financial harm is real — and it can damage lives, trust, and whole church communities.

We have seen what happens when accountability and transparency fail. In 2022, Martin Sargeant, a senior diocesan officer, stole over £5 million from funds intended to support struggling parishes. This wasn’t an unfortunate oversight. It was a systemic failure — one rooted in a culture where scrutiny felt awkward, trust was assumed, and power went unchallenged.

Sargeant’s case is not an exception. It is a warning. When scrutiny or challenge is seen as unspiritual, awkward, or “unfaithful,” when clergy are overburdened and PCC's under-trained, when power, money, and ministry intertwine without oversight — harm is inevitable. Financial safeguarding isn’t paperwork. It is protection of trust, protection of community, and protection of people.

If the Church cannot be trusted with money, it will not be trusted with anything.

The Elephant in the Room: Talk About Money Without Fear

Discussing money is one of those deeply ingrained taboos here in Britain. We’ll happily talk at length about the weather, queue etiquette, or our preferred way to make a cup of tea — but salaries, donations, or financial realities? Absolutely not! This makes conversations about money in church particularly tricky, as they bring together faith, power, and people’s personal circumstances.

I’ve seen firsthand the strain clergy experience simply trying to keep the lights on each month. The emotional and spiritual weight of money in ministry is undeniable — financial strain can quietly distort relationships, decision-making, and discernment within faith communities.

Clergy are caught between a rock and a hard place: trying to inspire generosity without sounding desperate, while managing diocesan expectations that simply do not bend to local reality.

Clergy housing has increasingly become a pressure point in diocesan systems that treat it less as provision and more as leverage. When a vicar is told, “If giving doesn’t increase, your post — or your home — may be unsustainable,” while essential repairs are left incomplete, leaving some clergy in unsafe or substandard living conditions, a moral pressure begins to seep into the life of the parish. It turns joyful generosity into fearful obligation — and risks clergy passing institutional anxiety onto their congregations. Transparency must go both ways: dioceses should model the same accountability they expect from parishes and recognise that sustainability cannot be built on guilt.

I encourage clergy—and senior clergy especially—to name the tension as an act of pastoral care. Say it out loud. Put it on the table. Something as simple as: “I know this feels awkward, but it matters because…” can release so much pressure.

It’s okay to talk openly about parish finances. It’s okay to acknowledge the strain of diocesan expectations. It’s okay to let your flock see that you are human.

What is not okay is when that strain leads to guilt, manipulation, or exploitation. Pastoral transparency is healthy. Pastoral pressure is not. Honesty releases pressure. Manipulation tightens it.

When Giving Hurts: Recognising Financial Abuse

Safeguarding holds a mirror to the hidden injustices among us. Financial exploitation in the Church is often subtle. It doesn’t usually take the form of dramatic theft, but emerges quietly through trust, influence, and vulnerability. It can look like:

A parishioner feeling pressured to give beyond their means.
A vulnerable adult making “donations” in exchange for prayer, attention, or approval.
Staff or clergy requesting gifts or loans within a pastoral relationship.
A long-trusted treasurer operating without accountability.

In these moments, money becomes a tool of influence — and that is a safeguarding concern.

Asking for financial support is not wrong. Shared generosity is part of discipleship and community life. But how we speak about giving matters.

Phrases such as “show your commitment” or “trust God through your giving” may be heartfelt, but for someone who is already vulnerable, they can carry a very different weight. Spiritual language can intentionally and unintentionally become, or feel coercive.

True generosity grows where people are free to give — and free not to - without judgement.

Protecting Those in Hardship

Churches should be places of refuge, not burden. That means: Naming financial hardship without shame. Offering practical, compassionate help. Signposting to trusted support organisations, such as:

And remembering:

Prayer, presence, time, welcome, listening, and acts of care are all forms of giving. No one is “less” because they cannot give financially.

Money will always feel like a difficult and awkward subject. But awkwardness isn’t the enemy — silence is. We know this. We have seen it, time and time again.

When clergy and diocesan leaders speak openly, lead with transparency, and hold trust gently and responsibly, the Church becomes a place where generosity is grounded in Freedom — not fear. Trust — not targets.

~Guarding the Flock