THE DISTRACTION OF CHARITY.
January 2012
Jesus said when we serve the “least of these” we do so unto Him.
He also said “the poor will be with us always,” as an expensive perfume was used for washing His feet—perfume someone thought should have been sold and given to the poor.
A guy named James thought true religion was caring for widows and orphans, while his brother Jesus warned of a certain kind of follower who could prophesy, cast out demons, and do mighty works in His name, and yet God “did not know them.”
Paradox makes it hard to pick a side and stick with it.
It’s only human to create neatly packaged and well-reasoned mandates for godly living—to pursue practical, linear, and sequential steps for pleasing God. But at some point, me trying to please God by determining what He “wants me to do and doing it” (like serving the poor, for example) becomes a cleverly disguised form of self-righteousness.
A faith that revolves around me determining what is acceptable to God, pursuing that, and then achieving it is called self-righteousness.
There’s a difference between following the Spirit and following our own carefully crafted, well-reasoned formulas for pleasing God.
(One of these approaches has me addicted to pleasing a god who isn’t real.)
In what ways do we obey the rules, play the part, and follow the recipe in hopes of “entering into the Kingdom of God”?
Is it possible to sponsor children, provide clean water, and rescue those enslaved in sex trafficking—all in the name of Jesus—and yet still remain unknown by God?
How is it even possible to do such “good” things but come up short?
Perhaps it’s the difference between letting God use me for His purposes and fighting for His favor by offering love and kindness toward others in His name.
Can serving the poor become an honorable distraction from letting God’s love invade our own lives?
Are we serving the “least of these” out of God’s great love for us, or because we want God to love us?
One approach has us trying to perform for God’s acceptance, while the other sets us free in the reality that God’s acceptance has no prerequisites.
The weight of suffering in this world is greater than any one of us can carry. There’s good reason to feel overwhelmed and helpless to make a difference when we come face to face with the depravity, suffering, and oppression that surrounds us.
We’re impotent to meet the God-sized need of this world.
Thankfully, the Kingdom of God is not advanced by our capacity, ability, or efforts.
God is not depending on our bank accounts, talents, resources, or achievements in order to advance His Kingdom. He’s inviting us into a movement that already has divine momentum—not something that needs resuscitation or rescue by our hands.
This is one of those truths that leaves me annoyed yet relieved.
Because while the over-achieving performance junkie in me is upset that I can’t please God or advance His Kingdom, another part of me can breathe again.
Perhaps Jesus saying “the poor will be with us always” doesn’t give license to ignore the less fortunate, but rather clarifies our calling to engage with poverty as opposed to ending it. Shedding interesting light on the myth that if we all just “come together” and “do our part,” we could put an end to hunger, poverty, oppression, etc.
Is there a difference between engagement and elimination?
Knowing “the poor will be with us always” has a way of taking the self-righteous wind from our sails, inviting us to lean into the resistance of poverty despite our inability to eliminate it.
When we engage the least of these we’re confronted with the fact that we, too, are the least of these.
As we’re met face to face with the horrors others face, we’re given eyes to see the same—but altogether different—horrors we suffer ourselves.
When I serve victims of sex trafficking, I see that I need rescue from my own sexual enslavements of another kind.
When I feed the hungry I’m made aware of my own dependence on the hand of God for provision in my life.
When I mentor inner-city teenagers I’m reminded that I’m not a self-made man and that it was not just my efforts but the unmerited favor, talents, and incredible opportunities that God has given me that have made me who I am today.
And when I accept the unacceptable person, I’m reminded of how recklessly God loves and accepts me just as I am and not as I should be.
I can engage poverty and oppression with humility knowing that although I’m unable to satisfy the greatest need of those around me, I’m tapped directly into the Source of One who can.
I can take heart knowing that the Kingdom of God is greatly advanced in and through me as I engage with poverty, and not so much when I am distracted by the task of trying to eliminate it (in myself or in others).
Without minimizing the very real needs of the marginalized and less fortunate, I draw attention to the continuing need for God in my own life—a need that has an interesting way of surfacing for contemplation and surrender as I engage with those less fortunate than me.
Let’s not indulge in a selfish lifestyle that ignores the pain of others, that assumes physical needs are not as important as the spiritual, or that’s content with hoarding the comforts afforded by the blessings of God. (It sucks that I even have to write that.)
The question is not whether we should help the less fortunate.
The question is this:
Is our love for the “least of these” coming out of the deep, wrecking love of God in our own lives?
Or are we serving the poor as a means of earning the love of God and removing a manifestation of resistance that Jesus said is never going away?
One approach allows me to encounter God, while the other has me doing “mighty works” in the name of a god who doesn’t even know me.
(P.S. Go help someone.)