Should You Do the Church Gig Anyway?
A Palm Sunday Reckoning for Artists Who Are Tired of Being Paid in Praise
This is from the Psalms of Provision series on artistic labor, applause, and the quiet systems that keep us invisible. If you’ve ever wondered why you feel so drained after doing work you love—this one’s for you.
This is a follow-up to the previous pieces, “The Work is Holy. The Cost is Ours” and “The Truth About Church Work for Professional Classical Singers” Check it out first if you haven’t already.
A Palm Sunday Reckoning for Artists Who Are Tired of Being Paid in Praise
“They laid down palms. They cheered.
But five days later, they watched him be crucified.
That’s how applause works: loud, temporary, and rarely backed by commitment.”
If you’re still deciding whether to say yes to a church gig that doesn’t pay enough (or at all), I’ve got news you already know:
More often than not, the answer should be “No.”
And if you’re honest with yourself, often it should be your sternest “NO!” imaginable.
But here’s the deeper confession:
Sometimes we say yes anyway.
We say yes to be liked.
To be seen.
To stay in motion.
To avoid being forgotten.
To feel like the artist we used to be—or are still trying to become.
And on Palm Sunday, of all days, the seduction of applause runs deeper.
It’s not just professional.
It’s spiritual.
So today’s article isn’t just about money. It’s about meaning.
It’s about how we decide what to give—and what to finally stop giving away.
Why We Keep Saying Yes
We’ve all done it.
We say yes to underpaid, unpaid, over-committed gigs because we’ve been conditioned to:
Stay visible
Be grateful
“Support the mission”
“Do it for the music”
“Serve the community”
“Glorify God with our gifts”
“Just help out this one time”
But here’s the truth:
If you’re the one not getting paid, you are the one funding the experience.
If they don’t have a budget, you are the budget.
If they can’t afford you, but you say yes anyway, you are the subsidy.
If they ask you to pour out your time, labor, skill, and preparation without honoring your actual life needs—you are the offering.
And whether it’s a church, a friend, a nonprofit, or a “prestigious opportunity,” the pattern is the same:
Praise in public.
Justification in private.
Silence when you ask for more.
The STARVING Artist Is a Manufactured Condition
Last year, in this article, I made an acronym with S.T.A.R.V.I.N.G. to explain eight of the most common reasons why so many brilliant artists stay broke:
Superiority Complexes (Purity or prestige over prosperity)
Tradition (“How we’ve always done it”—especially patriarchal traditions)
After Hours (Devaluing work outside the 9–5)
Really Bad with Money (Self-apathy and/or institutional incompetence)
Villains (Yes—some people do know better)
Ignorance (Those who genuinely don’t know)
Nurturers (Codependency masked as compassion)
G.U.N.K. in your head (Generational beliefs, Unhealed core wounds, Negative thoughts, and Knowledge that doesn’t serve you)
The STARVING mindset isn't romantic. It's regressive. (And as I alluded to in the article last year, academia, intentionally or not, is complicit in its normalization.)
And what if Palm Sunday could be an appropriate day to bring that contradiction into full view?
We’re celebrated for our gifts—until we ask to be compensated for them.
Palm Branches Don’t Pay the Bills
Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a borrowed donkey.
They laid down palms. They sang hosanna.
But the cheering didn’t last.
And five days later?
The same crowd stood silent.
That’s how applause works.
It’s a performance of honor that requires no follow-through.
And that’s the same energy many institutions carry toward artists.
They celebrate you—until you disrupt the budget.
They post your name—until you ask for a contract.
They praise your voice—until you request payment that reflects your worth.
The Gig Math Doesn’t Lie
Let’s say you want to earn $100,000 per year.
That’s not luxurious—that’s middle-class stability in most major cities. And if that number triggers you and your instinct is to prove you can live a happy, healthy life on far less, then by all means—you do you. But please don’t pretend you’re doing the rest of us a favor by normalizing under-earning.
Now let’s do the math.
A full-time job at 40 hours per week for 50 weeks a year is about 2,000 hours of labor.
Divide $100,000 by 2,000 hours, and you get a baseline earning target of $50/hour.
Simple. Math. Not manifestation.
Now let’s take a common example in the music world.
You’re offered $500 for a full set of Holy Week singing at a church near home. It includes:
2 rehearsals (4 hours total)
5 services with early calls for rehearsal and robing (2–3.5 hours per call):
Palm Sunday (2.5 hrs)
Maundy Thursday (2 hrs)
Good Friday (2 hrs)
Easter Vigil (3.5 hrs)
Easter Sunday (2.5 hrs)
Commuting (15 min each way x 7 trips = 3.5 hrs)
Personal prep and practice (3 hrs)
That’s 23 hours of work.
$500 ÷ 23 hours = $21.74/hour
Before taxes.
Before gas.
Before wardrobe.
Before physical recovery time.
Still want to do the gig?
Fine.
But don’t say you got paid.
Say you donated the rest.
Because if your financial goal is $50/hour, and you're taking $21.74, you’re the one covering the shortfall. Not the church. Not the audience. You.
What If the Gig Feels Sacred?
This is where it gets messy. Especially on Palm Sunday.
Because sometimes the gig is sacred.
It’s connected to a church.
Or a friend.
Or a memory.
Or a belief.
Or a part of you that still feels like giving.
So here’s what I say:
You can still do the gig—but do it like a leader, not like a leftover.
Here’s how:
Four Questions to Ask Before Saying Yes
These four questions were taught to me by a mentor who understood that time, energy, and value must be in integrity.
Only move on to the next question if the answer is YES, and thus only move forward on the gig if the answer is YES to all four:
Is this something I truly want to do?
Not “should,” not “obligated,” not “pressured.” Want.Will it take me closer to the life I actually want?
Not nostalgia. Not optics. Actual growth.Is it in alignment with universal law, divine order, or my highest values?
Does this lead to increase in your life as well as in the lives of others?Will others—including me—be unharmed by my yes?
Is your yes sustainable, honorable, and without hidden resentment?
If the answer to any of these is “No,”
Then the answer to the gig is also “No.”
If You Still Say Yes, Say Yes Like a CEO
Here’s how to do that:
Ask for more. Kindly and directly.
Propose value-adds (you offer more, they compensate more).
Ask for other forms of reciprocity. Get something else in return: footage, testimonials, scheduling perks, access, referrals, etc.
Clarify your terms in writing—even if no one else is doing it.
And most importantly: track all the costs.
Ask:
What will this actually take from me?
What else could I be doing in that time?
Will I need to earn elsewhere to stay solvent?
And if the answer is “yes, but I’ll make up the difference,” then build that into your week on purpose.
Because leaders don’t martyr themselves.
They plan.
When Service Becomes a Trap
So many of us confuse generosity with self-erasure.
You can be spiritual and still charge.
You can be called and still ask for compensation.
You can be kind and still say no.
Palm Sunday reminds us that public praise often precedes private betrayal.
The same people who cheer for your gifts today might vanish when you assert your value tomorrow.
This is the week to remember that visibility ≠ support.
Applause ≠ income.
Honor ≠ reciprocity.
🪧 Next Up: 95 MORE Theses for Artists Who Are Done Working for Palms
You don’t need just better rates.
You need a new theology of value.
A new contract with your time.
A new covenant with your art.
So later this week, maybe when I’d otherwise be singing a service, I’ll be publishing a new declaration you can read during another sermon:
95 MORE Theses for Artists Who Are Done Working for Palms
Because enough is enough.
We don’t need to burn out to be holy.
We don’t need to undercharge to be generous.
We don’t need to be silent just to be loved.
We need truth.
We need structure.
We need voice, power, and prosperity.
Let them lay down the palms.
Let them sing hosanna.
But let them pay you, too.
And if they won’t—bless them, and walk on.
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Next up in the Psalms of Provision Series:
Previous posts in the series: