Those who teach leadership skills today may love this story and could use it as an example of how to draw a following. But Jesus wasn’t into the “how to win friends and influence people” movement. He lived and moved and breathed out of a holy motivation. Yes, His desire was to bring glory to the Father, BUT He did so by revealing who the Father is which is love and mercy and grace, and yes, justice and righteousness (all of those meet together and are held in perfect balance by the Father).

In this passage, we see that Jesus was moved with compassion when He looked on the crowds of hungry people. We see this motivation time and again in the gospels, and in fact, throughout Scriptures. Our God is moved with compassion as He sees the brokenness of man, the absence of shalom or wholeness. It is His heart.

So, I pray: Lord, what motivates me? Am I filled with compassion when I see injustice? Do I understand Your heart for the hurting, and am I willing to enter into the pain, whatever it may be, of my neighbor, whomever he may be, in order that You might use me as a vessel of mercy? Transform me, Father, that I might reflect Your heart of compassion.

and your healing shall spring up speedily;

your righteousness shall go before you;

the glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard.”

(Isaiah 58:8 ESV)

What will bring about our light? What will speed our healing? Offering that cup of cold water. Seeking to end injustice–that which we carry out and that which we see carried out by others. Not turning our back on our own flesh.  Bringing the poor into our homes. (Isaiah 58: 6-7)

This is scary stuff. I mean, surely, God isn’t seriously saying we should bring the poor into our homes. Isn’t that dangerous? I guess offering that cup of cold water is easy enough, except when it’s inconvenient, but inviting people into our homes? Speaking out against injustices we see around us? That is not safe.

Yet, this is what we are called to as believers. It’s not really optional. And the result is a beautiful, though messy, healing of our own brokenness. As we allow ourselves to be vessels of God’s wellspring of love, grace and mercy–for truly we cannot draw love, grace or mercy out of our own wellspring for we have not enough even for ourselves–He reaches in and works His grace and mercy in the dark corners of our lives. What is there to fear in that? Yet, I admit, I am greatly afraid. Perhaps, this is because I do not trust that God will heal me nor do I trust that He will protect me from the risks of loving others. And so, I pray:

Lord, You know my heart. You know my thoughts and every anxious way in me. I desire for my light to break forth. I also desire to be a part of your work of justice as described in Isaiah 58. But I am afraid. You ask what seems like more than I can give–to give up my fear, to share my space, time, family, resources and life with others in a way that makes me vulnerable. Yet, You did this and more through Your Son, Jesus. And so, I place my trust in You. Open my eyes to see the tangible ways that I can live this life of justice, love and mercy, and give me courage to obey. Thank you that as I obey, You will bring about Your purposes, bringing healing both to others and to myself, and then my light shall break forth and my healing will come.

…As I come and go to work, laugh and joke with coworkers, go shopping, plan a 3 year wedding anniversary, enjoy the peace and quiet of my home, my coworker cannot concentrate on his work because his country is in turmoil, his friends and family face uncertainty and danger, his life has turned upside down, and he feels caught, unable to save anyone. And I seem relatively untouched by the whole ordeal…

So, we finished dinner, enjoyed our avocado pita delights, and set to washing dishes. I turned on the new CD that our friend just released, and here’s what came out of the speakers “I’m given it all to Jesus…” I felt a quiet come over me. I’m given it all to Jesus. This isn’t a “spiritual” excuse for inaction or apathy; this is not my rationale for ignoring these horrific injustices. This is just the first step of action. First, I’m giving it all to Jesus. Why? Because He is the Creator; He is the Healer; He is Just; He is Merciful; He knows Suffering; when everything was messed up, He came down into this world to make things right; He is the Beginning and the End; He IS. And we can trust Him. So, I’m giving all of this to Him. He can handle this; I can’t. Neither can anyone else. Then, step 2. Jesus, what would you have me do right here, right where I’m at? That’s what I’m going to do.

So, will you give it all to Jesus? And will you take step 2? He’ll be faithful with the first; He’ll also be faithful to give you something to do.

When I hear Christians angry that their hard earned money would be shared with illegal immigrants or the poor, I’m confused. When I hear Christians give sweeping comments about illegals or poor people being lazy or undeserving, I’m concerned. If our anger or resistance is with the government taking on roles that it should not have (i.e., being manager of an individual’s wealth), I understand. But I am not sure if that is all that I am hearing, because what I am hearing, the anger and resentment, comes out in language towards illegals and the poor and in comments about MY money and MY hard work. That is why I am concerned and a little fired up. As Christians, we should be the first to recognize that our money is not our own. It is the Lord’s and He has given it to us to be stewards and to share of our wealth. Yes, people are to work and earn money, but I think that far too often, we make generalities about the poor or immigrants, generalities that are true of a portion but not the whole. We also tend to forget that there are people of ALL social classes who are lazy or whatever other label we like to give to the poor/immigrants.

We, as North American Christians often (okay, I don’t want to make a gneralization here, so I say often or many of us) adhere to the American idea of the self-made man, independence, what’s mine is mine because I earned it, and perhaps we begin to think that this is actually a Biblical principle. Yes, Scripture speaks a great deal about working hard and does not have great things to say about laziness. I’m not advocating that we stop calling people to live to their fullest and to work hard–we should do that. However, I would venture to say that our angry responses to the idea of redistributing our wealth (granted, the government shouldn’t do it –that is not the point of this article) reveal something about the American Church’s theology that needs to be rethought. It is dangerous when we start to call American ideas Christian principles.

So, if we are angry at the thought of the government redistributing our wealth, let’s stop for a moment and evaluate. Take the government out of the picture. Let’s focus on our hearts. Why does this issue make us mad? Is it because of the government? Is it because we think the poor and immigrants are lazy or undeserving? Is it because we have a much fiercer grasp on our money than perhaps is God-honoring?

I do not suggest a solution on the issue. What my heart hurts for right now is the anger and resentment that I hear from my brothers and sisters in Christ towards a sector of our world for whom Jesus died and whom God loves dearly (and places a WHOLE lot of emphasis on in Scripture). What my heart hurts for is all that we as believers (and I include myself on this) are missing out on by holding so fast to our money or our ideas. What my heart hurts for is the generalizations that we make about groups of people that are not true and that hurt these people, our Lord and ourselves. I am susceptible to each of these things and want to change, and I want to see God’s people understand His heart better and be more gentle.

Setting: These are some of the instructions for right living that the Lord gives to His people, Israel, after redeeming them from slavery in Egypt.

“When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not reap your field right up to its edge, neither shall you gather the gleanings after your harvest. And you shall not strip your vineyard bare, neither shall you gather the fallen grapes of your vineyard. You shall leave them for the poor and for the sojourner. I am the LORD your God.

You shall not steal; you shall not deal falsely; you shall not lie to one another. You shall not swear by my name falsely, and so profane the name of your God: I am the LORD.

You shall not oppress your neighbor or rob him. The wages of a hired servant shall not remain with you all night until the morning. You shall not curse the deaf or put a stumbling block before the blind, but you shall fear your God: I am the LORD.

You shall do no injustice in court. You shall not be partial to the poor or defer to the great, but in righteousness shall you judge your neighbor. You shall not go around as a slanderer among your people, and you shall not stand up against the life of your neighbor: I am the LORD.

You shall not hate your brother in your heart, but you shall reason frankly with your neighbor, lest you incur sin because of him. You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge against the sons of your own people, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself: I am the LORD.

[...]

When a stranger sojourns with you in your land, you shall not do him wrong. You shall treat the stranger who sojourns with you as the native among you, and you shall love him as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt: I am the LORD your God.” -Leviticus 19: 9-17, 33-34

Questions to Ponder

What is our harvest/vineyard?

What impact does the statement “I am the LORD” and “I am the LORD your God” have on the validity of each command?

We associate the commands in verses 11 and 12 with the 10 commandments and perhaps give them more weight, yet here they stand among these commands about acting justly. What does that mean?

Do you find yourself drawn to verse 15 to the exclusion of the other verses? Why might that be?

What does it mean to “treat the sojourner among us as the native and to love him as we love ourselves” today?

Do you identify with your heritage as a stranger in a land? If that was a part of your personal history, what was that like? If your identity as a stranger is part of your ancestry rather than your immediate circumstances, what do you know about that period in your family’s life?

Thoughts to consider (take them or leave them)

A thought about verse 15. Some of us may latch onto that verse. We should think about why. Why do we really like to point out that, “Hey, it says not to be partial to the poor”? Sometimes, we might do it to the exclusion of considering the rest of the verse or the surrounding verses which call us to make some changes in our lives concerning our dealings with the poor that we may not like. Do we feel a sense of relief that the verse is there? If so, why? Some of us, on the other hand, may get angry about this verse (especially when others like to point to it to the exclusion of the surrounding verses). We need to ask ourselves why. Have we glamorized the poor and made them idols of some sort or another? Either response to the verse might beg some prayerful introspection.

Another thought…I confess that as I look at this list of commands, I find myself guilty of violating so many, if not all, of these commands. The weight of the phrase, “I am the LORD,” after each paragraph hits me. I need to take these commands seriously, and if I take them seriously, I will quickly realize that, on my own, I am incapable of following them. So, once again I seek the work of Christ the Righteous in me. He forgives me when I mess up AND He leads me into victory.

Dr. Rah says that in the American, let’s say middle to upper class church, we see a theology of celebration while in the poor and often immigrant or non-white church, we see a theology of suffering. He makes the point that both are necessary to have a full understanding of the gospel. Christ suffered; he had to suffer. Christ also rose victoriously from the grave. One element without the other would not have been redemption.

The sector of the church that has a better grasp of the theology of celebration has something both to offer and to learn from the other sector of the church. We will not understand the sufferings of Christ as fully as those for whom suffering has been a way of life for generations. This is not to say that those of us in middle class America do not suffer–I know many, many dear people who have suffered greatly in their lives, but I would venture to say that this is largely an exception to the rule if you were to look at our suffering alongside that of the poor and oppressed. For the most part, those of us who live in the suburbs at a middle-class level have a good life, are provided for, do not face significant challenges to our safety and well-being. What is interesting that Dr. Rah points out is that there is a longing to understand suffering in this part of God’s church. You see it in our worship music–”this world has nothing for me…hungry I come to you…broken and spilled out…” As Dr. Rah says, the outsider looking in might say, “Really? This world has nothing for you? You have a nice home, a good car, stylish clothes, a job, abundant food. I would say this world has something for you.” But somewhere, there is this longing to understand. Unfortunately, I think, we do not recognize that we can begin to understand this part of Christ if we would turn to our immigrants, to our widows, to the poor and oppressed and ask them to teach us, if we would deign to believe that poverty of physical things does not mean poverty of spirit or mind or knowledge and understanding of Christ and His Way.

On the other side, in the immigrant/poor Church in the US, we see a longing to understand this theology of celebration or resurrection. Again, this becomes quite obvious when we listen to the gospels and spirituals, for example, that rose out of the time of slavery where songs spoke of “rejoicing in what the Lord has done for me.” Again, Dr. Rah points out that the outsider looking in might comment, “Really? What has the Lord done for you? You are a slave!” Yet, in the midst of a life of suffering, there is a longing to know and understand the theology of resurrection and celebration. One without the other is an incomplete gospel.

So, what do we do with this. I would suggest that we seek to learn from one another, that we recognize that we are one Church, one Body, and that as we seek to act justly and love mercy, we recognize that while we have much to give, we have much to learn and that in many ways, we have a poverty that we do not even recognize and that needs to be spoken in to.

Enough for now. More thoughts to come on the conference. I commend the works of Dr. Rah to you. I am eager to learn more from this dynamic speaker who has some difficult words for us. May we take them, test them against Scripture and then head those that align with it even when we do not like what they mean for us.

Wednesday, February 25th, which is Ash Wednesday, has been designated by them as a day to stand in support of Zimbabweans who have long been oppressed and to pray for them.

O God of our ancestors, God of our people, before whose face the human generations pass away: We thank you that in you we are kept safe forever, and that the broken fragments of our history are gathered up in the redeeming act of your dear Son, remembered in this holy sacrament of bread and wine. Help us to walk daily in the Communion of Saints, declaring our faith in the forgiveness of sins and the resurrection of the body. Now send us out in the power of your Holy Spirit to live and work for your praise and glory. Amen.

What does this have to do with justice or poverty or mercy? Well, “the broken fragments of our history are gathered up in the redeeming act of [Jesus Christ].” Praise God that through His love and through His mercy, all of the injustice that we have committed, that our ancestors have committed, that our children and grandchildren will commit, is gathered up through Jesus Christ, the Just, for if they were not, I don’t think that this life would be worth living.

The end of this particular liturgy is a blessing, and it goes like this:

All our problems we send to the cross of Christ. All our difficulties we send to the cross of Christ. All the devil’s works we send to the cross of Christ. All our hopes we set on the risen Christ.

And so, today, as I am surrounded by a world filled with injustice, as I struggle against my own sinful inclination towards injustice and unmercifulness, I set my hopes on the risen Christ, for, as my dear husband gently reminded me yesterday, “Susan, one person cannot change the world by herself, but God can.” What a comfort. What a hope!

41“Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. 42For I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink, 43I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not clothe me, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.’ 44Then they also will answer, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not minister to you?’ 45Then he will answer them, saying, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.’ 46And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.” –Matthew 25:31-46

I don’t feel qualified to exegete this passage, so I won’t. I’ll just share a few thoughts and leave you hanging.

Salvation is by grace through faith and not by works. Faith without works is dead (meaning, not in existence). So how do these words of Jesus fit in? Perhaps in our evangelical fear of giving the wrong impression (that we must earn our salvation or do works to keep it), we tend to ignore this passage in its entirety because it seems to be on the verge of being theologically unsound (wait, can Jesus be theologically unsound?) and we just focus on the first part, the nice part where, at the end of the sermon, we all feel like going to volunteer at the local soup kitchen.

In fact, I find that I am afraid that if I try to make sense of this passage, readers might begin to think my theology is messed up. So, maybe I’ll just leave this passage here for you to ponder, and I’ll ponder it too, and let’s all ask God to unveil our eyes so that we can understand and accept what Christ is calling us to in this passage. I don’t fully understand it, but every time I read it, I am disturbed. However, I’m going to stop running from that disturbed feeling and confront it and see what cool thing God makes of it. One thing I know, God doesn’t say ANYTHING He doesn’t mean.