It never fails.

You step into the work God has called you to—serving His people with the time, wisdom, and gifts He gave you—and here it comes:

“This looks like manipulation.”
“You shouldn’t charge for this.”
“Freely you’ve received, freely give.”

It doesn't happen often, but I have had people accuse me of “selling Jesus" or "fleecing the sheep."

No questions. No conversation. Just religious nonsense and assumption.

Ironically, they often make those comments on resources that they didn't have to pay for—it was freely shared for the benefit of others.

And it stung—not because it was true, but because it exposed how deeply we've confused the free gift of salvation with the support offered for growth.

If that mindset goes unchallenged, it’ll keep people trapped in cycles of performance and shame—while rejecting the very help God is sending.

So let’s talk about it.

Because it needs to be said:

Charging for coaching isn’t charging for the gospel. And not everything that costs money is a money-changer’s table.

Let’s start with the foundation:

Jesus didn’t die to start a business. He died to make sons and daughters.

The gospel—the message of salvation, adoption, and grace—is completely free.

You will never see me—or any Christ-centered coach worth listening to—sell access to forgiveness, Jesus, or the Spirit.

That would be heresy.

I pour out what I’ve received freely: YouTube videos, podcasts, blogs, emails, and hours every week responding to comments and messages.

I don’t charge speaking fees when churches invite me, either.

I give all of this freely because serving and helping people is what I love.

But coaching is not the gospel. It’s what comes after.

What I offer isn’t salvation—it’s support.

It’s support for believers who are already saved but still stuck. Who know truth in their theology but don’t know how to walk it out in their life.

This is not access to Jesus. This is support for those who already have Him.

And coaching costs something because it costs me something—time away from my family, deep presence, focused attention, and dedicated excellence for people who genuinely want to grow.

And just to be clear—I don’t say any of this lightly.

I’ve wrestled with the whole idea of charging, especially because I was surrounded by a lot of religious noise and poverty mindset teaching. For a long time, it confused me too.

But Jesus has met me in those personal places.

He’s corrected my thinking, healed the poverty lens I carried, and taught me to follow His guidance even when it feels uncomfortable.

I’m not guessing my way through this.

I’m obeying what He has shown me—not to sell the gospel, but to steward my time, my family, and the people I’m called to serve with clarity, integrity, and responsibility.

There’s a cost to offering deep support, and there’s no shame in that. Even Jesus had women who financially supported His ministry (Luke 8:1–3).

And here’s the truth most people don’t realise:

Not everyone is mine to walk with.

Jesus didn’t entrust Himself to everyone, and neither should we.

There are people whose hearts are open, humble, hungry, and ready—and there are others who are bound to systems, rules, and religious mindsets that drain, accuse, and resist anything that looks like freedom.

Over time, I’ve learned that the highly religious, the organizationally driven, and the chronically suspicious aren’t the people I’m called to walk with.

And if I tried to, I’d end up weighed down, distracted, and pulled into battles Jesus never assigned to me.

That’s actually one of the hidden graces of charging for coaching. It becomes a filter.

Those who want maturity, clarity, freedom, and transformation lean in—and those who only want to argue, police, or monitor your obedience (aka, control you) quietly disqualify themselves.

And that's what every person does when they comment accusations and religious nonsense about charging for coaching—they expose that they're not the ones my coaching is for, and that's a good thing.

This keeps my focused aligned with the people God has actually entrusted to me—the ones who are ready to grow.

The gospel is like clean water. It’s free.

But sometimes, people are lost in the desert—confused, dehydrated, and walking in circles. They know water exists. They just don’t know how to get to it, or they keep drinking from toxic wells.

A coach doesn’t sell the water. They help people find it, clear the path, and show them how to drink without choking.

The water is still free. But the guide gave their time, training, and tools to lead others there.

That’s not manipulation—that’s service.

Coaching isn’t selling Jesus—it’s stewarding the call. Confusing the two reveals religion, not discernment.

Actually—he did.

Not always, but Scripture makes it clear that Paul received financial support for his ministry and defended that right boldly.

“The Lord has commanded that those who preach the gospel should receive their living from the gospel.”—1 Corinthians 9:14

That’s not a suggestion. That’s a command from Jesus Himself.

Now yes—Paul goes on to say in verse 15:

“I have not used any of these rights.”

But context matters.

He’s talking specifically about his time in Corinth, where he chose not to receive support—not because it was wrong, but because he didn’t want to create a stumbling block for immature believers.

Paul didn’t reject financial support—he redirected it.

In fact, he says clearly:

“I robbed other churches by receiving support from them so as to serve you.”—2 Corinthians 11:8

He received funding from other churches to serve the Corinthians—for free.

That’s strategic leadership, not a theology of unpaid ministry.

He also praises the Philippians for financially supporting him multiple times, even while he was serving in other cities (Philippians 4:15–16).

So let’s be honest with Scripture.

Paul affirmed the right to be paid. He received financial support. He just didn’t let money become a barrier.

To say Paul never accepted money is not biblical. It’s selective—and often rooted in suspicion, not truth.

If we’re going to quote Paul, let’s quote all of him.

Christians don’t bat an eye paying a Christian counselor.

They pay Christian authors. Christian musicians. Christian conferences.

We pay plumbers, tutors, and teachers.

But when someone offers one-on-one, Holy Spirit-led support to help you get unstuck in your walk with God—it’s suddenly manipulation?

Is it really about money? Or is it about our discomfort with someone walking in their call unapologetically?

Let’s call it what it is: religious suspicion masquerading as spiritual concern.

And let’s be honest:

If coaching fees offend some, I’d love to know how they feel about Bibles being sold. Because the same logic puts every Christian industry under fire.

When Jesus said, “Freely you’ve received; freely give” (Matt 10:8), He was sending out disciples to heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse lepers, and cast out demons.

It wasn’t a blanket statement about never receiving support.

If that were the case, He wouldn't have said in the same passage:

“The worker is worthy of his wages” (Matt 10:10).

He wasn’t condemning compensation. He was condemning corruption.

Manipulation uses guilt to extract money.

Ministry offers value, truth, and transformation—and invites people to sow in.

The difference is in the spirit, not the invoice.

People aren’t stupid. They know when someone is in it for greed. They also know when someone is offering their life to serve others in love and alignment with God’s call.

One of the strangest things I’ve seen in Christian spaces is the double standard around provision.

Some believers will say, “If you’re doing ministry or coaching, God should be your provision. You shouldn’t charge.”

But have you noticed they never apply that same logic to themselves?

They never say, “If God is my provision, then money shouldn’t be a barrier for me to grow, heal, or mature.”

It exposes a simple truth: their objection isn’t theological, it’s emotional.

If God is my source, He is also their source. If God can provide for the coach, God can provide for the client.

You cannot use “God is your provision” as a reason for someone else to work for free, while refusing to trust God as your provision when it comes to your own growth.

This contradiction reveals the heart of the issue: it’s not about money—it’s about fear, scarcity, and religious conditioning.

In the Kingdom, provision flows both ways.

God provides for the one who serves, and God provides for the one who invests.

Price is not a barrier to the person God is leading. Price is simply the filter for timing, readiness, and alignment.

When both sides trust God as their source, the exchange becomes clean, honoring, and free from pressure.

That is what real Kingdom economy looks like.

If you’re quick to accuse, slow to understand, and always suspicious when someone steps into their God-given calling with excellence, here’s the truth: You sound more like the Pharisees than the Christ you claim to follow.

They were angry Jesus healed on the Sabbath. They were angry He spoke with authority. They were angry people followed Him instead of them.

They didn’t recognize the move of God—because they were too busy guarding their man-made rules.

Don’t be that person.

The only people who ever complain about my coaching or courses are the ones who’ve never coached with me.

Yet they speak as if they’re entitled to my time, my family’s time, and my support—and some even use Scripture or spiritual threats to pressure me into giving it for free.

Don’t be that person either.

Instead, help yourself to the hundreds of free teachings, videos, blogs, and resources I’ve already poured out for anyone who wants them.

They’re there because I genuinely want to help people grow.

If you’ve been falsely accused for charging while serving the Kingdom—don’t shrink back.

The fact that you’re misunderstood doesn’t mean you’re misaligned.

Jesus was called demon-possessed. Paul was called a heretic.

If everyone agrees with you, you probably aren’t doing anything disruptive enough to matter.

Grace costs nothing. Obedience might cost you everything.

And sometimes, that includes enduring the sting of religious accusation while staying faithful to your call.

Keep going. Don’t sell the gospel. But don’t apologize for offering your oil to those who are ready to walk in it.

You didn’t start this to make a profit. But it’s not wrong if your God-given assignment produces fruit—including provision.

And if you’ve wrestled with this mindset yourself—pause and ask: Could it be that I’ve rejected what I needed because it didn’t look like what I expected?

Don’t let fear of counterfeits cause you to miss the real thing.

God still uses people—yes, even coaches—to help His kids walk in what Jesus already paid for.

Maybe one day I'll share my story of how I ended up in this coaching space—and how I nearly missed it.

Related reading:

• I'm selling cancer miracles?

1. Am I quick to judge what I don’t understand, or do I slow down to discern with wisdom and humility?

2. Have I ever confused the free gift of the gospel with the cost of discipleship, growth, or support?

3. Am I honoring those who pour out their lives to serve, or am I letting religious thinking rob me of the help God is providing through them?

Bless you,

Lee