Gospel Tipping: God Definitely Over-Tipped Us

Is it just me, or does it seem like more and more people expect a tip these days? At higher and higher rates.

When Tina and I lived in Manhattan we had to actively plan to carry cash in small bills at all times, because the whole city runs on tipping.

So the questions pile up fast. Why do some people get tipped extra for doing their job and others don’t? How are we supposed to respond to that? And what about the folks who are honestly not good at the job and expect a tip anyway?

Here’s where I’ve landed. Tipping is either a hassle or it’s an opportunity to practice generosity in tiny, repeated bursts.

And I think it might be one of the more reliable ways to keep my own heart lined up with God’s.

The phrase, and where it came from

As far as I know, my friend Jeff Vanderstelt was the first to coin this one: gospel-tipping.

His suggestion was that we tip people, waiters and baristas and drivers and doormen, in light of how well we believe God has blessed us in accordance with our performance.

Sit with that second half for a second, because that’s where it turns.

If money has more of a grip on your sense of security than you’d like to admit, we dug into that here: How Money Affects Your Significance and Security

How we normally do it

The standard system is simple enough, and all of us run it.

Good service, good tip. They performed to expectation, so they get the reward.

Bad service or a lousy attitude and we tip noticeably less, or nothing. We’ve graded them, and the tip is the grade.

Perfectly fair. It’s also the exact opposite of what happened to us.

So how generous was God with me?

Here’s the question worth stopping on. How generous was God with me back when I still had my fist up in his face, convinced I could run my own life better than he could?

The answer is that he gave his most valuable and precious resource. His own son, to pay the whole tab and bring me home.

And notice the ratio. The more sinful we were, the larger in proportion his gift had to be. The worse off, the bigger the rescue.

He didn’t slip us a little something extra to help us out. He gave us everything, and took the payment for our sin, which was death, onto himself.

He definitely over-tipped us.

Which means the small tip is telling on us

So when we don’t tip someone generously, it can quietly reveal something we’d rather not look at. That in this moment, we’re not really believing the gospel we say we believe.

If God had given us what we deserved, we’d be sunk. He didn’t.

Once that shifts, tipping stops being a grade and starts being an act of the good news showing up in a very small, very tangible way.

Here’s a short video where I talk through this same idea if you’d like to share it or watch later: Gospel Tipping

And for the wider version of this habit: How We Can Be More Generous People

Mostly it’s for me

Here’s the part I didn’t expect.

More than what anybody else perceives about my tipping, I need to tip well to remind myself what I received when I hadn’t earned any of it.

It’s a two-dollar sermon I get to preach to my own heart several times a week. Nobody at the table even notices it happened.

If you want to work the gospel down into ordinary places like this with a few other people, that’s exactly what The Gospel Primer is built to do.

FAQ

Q1: Is there a number? What counts as over-tipping?
There isn’t one, and I’d resist making one. The moment it becomes a rule you’re back to a system. Ask what would feel a little uncomfortable and generous in this specific situation, and do that.

Q2: What about tipping when money is genuinely tight?
Then tip what you can and let it still be the reminder. This was never about the amount clearing some bar. A generous five is not a lesser act than a careless fifty.

Q3: Should I say something about why I tipped well?
Usually no. The moment it comes with an explanation it becomes a transaction of a different kind. Let it be quiet. If a conversation opens naturally, that’s a different thing.