Free, on purpose.
Our time with people and our resource library are both free. That’s possible because of the Lark Collective, a growing group of people who give monthly so grace can stay what it is: a gift.
What you’re keeping free.
Each of these costs something to make. Thanks to the Collective, none of them cost anything to receive.
The model is simple, every dollar can travel: from a podcast, to a plane ticket, to a table that keeps going long after we leave.
“I knew God loved me. I didn’t know how to live like it.”
Sara, Los Angeles
“I thought I would never find the rest Jesus promised.”
Cody, St. Louis
“Setting a table for others has been life changing.”
Jesse, Louisville
Giving Questions
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Yes. Lark is a registered nonprofit organization. All donations are tax-deductible. Donations are made in $USD. Please accommodate for exchange rates accordingly.
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We accept both personal and business checks. Please include your name and email so we can link your gift to your account.
You can send them to:
Lark
1472 Alcazar Ave.
Fort Myers, FL 33901 -
Yes! Lark employer identification number is #92-3091042.
We’d love for you to include an email and mailing address in the acknowledgments field, so that we can properly thank you for your generosity.
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Yes, our platform supports international giving! If you’re hoping to give via wire transfer or cryptocurrency, please reach out to hello@larksite.com to confirm the details.
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Because the person who needs relief shouldn’t have to buy their way into the conversation. Donor support allows us to remove as many financial barriers as possible.
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A plane ticket can open a room. A room can start a conversation. A conversation can become a friendship that continues after we leave. We’re funding something designed to travel through people, not something that has to stay attached to us.
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Our goal this year: 50 Lark Live gatherings across the U.S. and around the world. We’re taking the scandalous news that you already belong on the road, into living rooms, bars, and anywhere people will pull up a chair. Each night is a beginning: a table the people in that town keep setting long after we’ve flown home.
