(ThyBlackMan.com) Bishop Marvin Winans, a name long respected in gospel music and ministry, has recently come under fire after a viral video showed him publicly confronting a church member during a fundraiser. The member, identified as Roberta McCoy, offered a donation of $1,200 — $1,000 initially, plus an additional $235. However, this contribution was met with visible disappointment from Bishop Winans, who made it clear that the requested offering was $2,000, or as he phrased it, “$1,000 plus $1,000.” His comment, “Well, that ain’t what I asked you to do,” quickly drew attention online, sparking an emotional debate within the Christian community about giving, grace, and the growing culture of church fundraising.
The moment, caught on camera, shows McCoy explaining that she would “work on” getting the remaining $800. Winans, however, repeated his dissatisfaction, reminding her and the congregation that the specific request was for $2,000. His tone and words carried a sharpness that unsettled many believers watching the video. For those who have followed the Winans family — a dynasty of gospel greatness and an influential presence in Christian music — this scene felt deeply disheartening. The exchange wasn’t about music or worship; it was about money. And that’s what many are struggling with — the question of when giving becomes more about expectation than devotion.
Within the church, giving has always been part of worship. Tithes, offerings, and love gifts are biblical principles rooted in faithfulness and sacrifice. Yet the Apostle Paul reminds us in 2 Corinthians 9:7, “Each one must give as he has decided in his heart, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver.” That verse alone has been quoted countless times to remind believers that giving is not about coercion or comparison. It’s about the heart behind the act. But when a leader publicly rebukes a member for not meeting a financial benchmark, it raises troubling questions about whether the spirit of giving is being replaced with pressure and guilt.
For Ms. McCoy, who gave what she could, her contribution should have been acknowledged with gratitude, not correction. The fact that she stood there, explaining herself in front of the congregation, while the bishop expressed disappointment, reveals a deeper issue within some modern churches: the culture of expectation. Churches today, especially large ones, often operate like financial institutions — complete with annual budgets, building funds, media teams, and expansion projects. While there’s nothing inherently wrong with growth, the message can sometimes shift from salvation to solicitation. Congregants begin to feel like customers instead of members of Christ’s body.
When the clip surfaced online, reactions were swift and divided. On Twitter (X), one user wrote, “This right here is why people are leaving the church. How you gonna shame someone for giving over $1,000? That’s a blessing, not a failure.” Another posted, “Maybe Bishop Winans had a goal for the fundraiser, but this wasn’t the way to handle it. God sees the heart, not the amount.” Others, however, defended Winans, claiming that he was merely enforcing a standard of obedience and commitment. “If the pastor set a goal and people agreed, they should honor it,” one supporter wrote. “You don’t promise $2,000 and then change it to $1,200 because you feel like it.”
But even if that were true, the optics of the moment felt wrong. The power dynamic between a leader and a member is already imbalanced — the bishop holds authority, the microphone, and the pulpit. To call out someone publicly over a financial matter undermines the humility and compassion that Christian leadership demands. If Jesus were in that sanctuary, would He have approved? The Gospels show us a Savior who praised a widow for giving two small coins, saying that she gave more than anyone else because she gave out of her lack, not her abundance. That story, found in Mark 12:41-44, stands as a timeless rebuke to the kind of spiritual arrogance that measures devotion in dollars.
Many are now asking the harder question: Are some preachers more concerned with the prosperity of the church bank account than the souls of their flock? In an era where luxury cars, designer suits, and multimillion-dollar sanctuaries are showcased on social media, believers are left wondering where humility has gone. When pastors chastise members for not meeting monetary quotas, it betrays a misunderstanding of ministry itself. Ministry isn’t about extracting money; it’s about extending mercy. The early church thrived not because of financial campaigns but because of communal care — believers sold their possessions to help one another, not to build monuments to their faith.
Another disturbing element of this incident is the silence of the congregation. Why did no one stand up for Ms. McCoy? Why did no one say, “Pastor, that was uncalled for”? Perhaps fear played a role. In many churches, challenging a leader — especially one with celebrity status — is seen as rebellion or disrespect. Yet, silence in the face of injustice is complicity. The Bible calls us to speak truth in love (Ephesians 4:15), even when that truth is uncomfortable. If the church cannot protect its own members from public humiliation, then what message does it send to those watching from the outside? The world sees this and says, “If that’s Christianity, I want no part of it.” That’s a tragedy.
It’s also worth reflecting on how fundraising itself has evolved. Once, giving was private and prayerful; now, it’s often public and performative. “Who’s got $1,000?” “Who’s got $2,000?” Pastors call out amounts from the pulpit like auctioneers, and members walk to the front to applause or scrutiny. This practice has turned worship into spectacle and generosity into competition. God doesn’t measure faith by zeros on a check. He measures it by love, obedience, and trust. When believers give out of fear or embarrassment, it’s no longer an offering — it’s a transaction.
On Threads, the reactions mirrored those on Twitter. One user commented, “I’m so tired of seeing pastors act like CEOs instead of shepherds. This woman gave from her heart, and that should’ve been enough.” Another wrote, “This is exactly why I stopped going to church. Too many leaders care more about raising funds than raising faith.” Yet another added, “Marvin Winans is a legend in gospel music, but this moment was a miss. Leaders should lift people up, not put them down.”
Still, a few voices urged caution, saying that perhaps the clip lacked full context. Maybe there was a prior agreement or a misunderstanding about the pledge. But even with that grace, the manner in which the bishop handled it left many feeling uneasy. Leadership isn’t just about what is said, but how it’s said. A pastor’s rebuke, especially in public, carries weight that can wound. Words from the pulpit should heal more than they harm.
The broader issue at hand is accountability within the church. Pastors, like all of us, are human. They can make mistakes. But when incidents like this go viral, it’s a chance for reflection, not division. The body of Christ must remember that giving is sacred — not because of the amount, but because of the heart behind it. The Bible doesn’t say, “He who gives $2,000 shall be blessed,” but rather, “Give, and it will be given to you” (Luke 6:38). The measure of generosity is not currency; it’s compassion.
At the end of the day, the church is supposed to be a refuge, not a revenue stream. When a woman like Ms. McCoy gives what she can and is met with public criticism, it sends a painful message to those sitting in the pews who already struggle financially. It tells them their best isn’t enough — that even their sacrifice falls short of expectation. That is not the gospel of Jesus Christ. The gospel says, “Come as you are,” not “Come with $2,000.”
Bishop Winans has long been admired for his voice, his ministry, and his impact on gospel music. This moment, though, serves as a reminder that leadership demands humility as much as authority. The hope is that he — and other leaders — will see this backlash not as persecution, but as correction. The church cannot afford to lose its heart in pursuit of its budget. For what does it profit a church to gain millions and lose its compassion?
As one final comment on Twitter put it perfectly: “The woman gave what she could. That’s all God ever asked of any of us. Shame on anyone who can’t see that.”
And perhaps that’s the most Christian reminder of all — that God looks not at the hand that gives, but the heart that gives it.
