Deuteronomy 15: 7-8: 10-11
7 If there is among you anyone in need, a member of your community in any of your towns within the land that the LORD your God is giving you, do not be hard-hearted or tight-fisted toward your needy neighbor. 8 You should rather open your hand, willingly lending enough to meet the need, whatever it may be.
10 Give liberally and be ungrudging when you do so, for on this account the LORD your God will bless you in all your work and in all that you undertake. 11 Since there will never cease to be some in need on the earth, I therefore command you, “Open your hand to the poor and needy neighbor in your land.
2 Thessalonians 3: 6-13
6Now we command you, beloved, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, to keep away from believers who are living in idleness and not according to the tradition that they received from us. 7 For you yourselves know how you ought to imitate us; we were not idle when we were with you, 8 and we did not eat anyone’s bread without paying for it; but with toil and labor we worked night and day, so that we might not burden any of you. 9 This was not because we do not have that right, but in order to give you an example to imitate. 10 For even when we were with you, we gave you this command: Anyone unwilling to work should not eat. 11 For we hear that some of you are living in idleness, mere busybodies, not doing any work. 12 Now such persons we command and exhort in the Lord Jesus Christ to do their work quietly and to earn their own living. 13 Brothers and sisters, do not be weary in doing what is right.
BORN INTO POVERTY
From the moment you were born, you were in competition against the elements. From your first breath, Nature attacks you with cold, rain, dark, hostile animals, and even more hostile viruses and bacteria. And unlike other animals, we do not emerge immediately equipped with life and survival skills.
Fish and ocean mammals are born swimming. Calves and ponies are on their feet and walking within minutes. But human beings must be taken care of entirely. We are better compared to birds, who spend weeks in the nest doing nothing but eating. Humans do not leave the nest after a few weeks—circumstances may even demand a place in the nest into adulthood. Human beings are weird—we require more care for a longer time than any other species, and yet we are the most intelligent, most advanced, and most accomplished of all the species.
Parenting and education are a matter of preparing one to leave the nest and become self-sufficient, but this too is a complexity, for unlike the rest of the animal world, we don’t simply live off the land. We live in towns and cities, which means acquiring our basic needs—food, shelter, and support—requires that we find a niche in the complex human network we call cities, societies, and nations. There are many baby birds who have difficulty flying, and others who abandon the nest unable to fly. These fall to the forest floor and live on the ground, doing their best to scratch out a life—something to eat, shelter for the night, avoiding danger.
I initially intended to wow you with statistics, but I’ve thought better of that. It may be enough to know that of LA’s homeless population, 75% are unsheltered—flat out on the street. But that isn’t merely a poverty issue; it is a drug issue. The problems we see in cities like LA, San Francisco, and Seattle are predominantly drug-addiction-driven. And yes, that is in and of itself a kind of poverty.
Finding statistics—as seems to be the case with any major issue—is difficult because so much of the information is politicized. You can now find statistics to support whatever it is you’d like to think, so let’s just save time and go to the deeper water.
RELATIVE POVERTY
On the streets of Ventura, a man—apparently homeless—was panhandling passersby when a young man with hipster dreadlocks and surf shorts came by:
“Hey buddy, can you help me out? I’m broke!”
“You’re better off than me,” said the young hipster, “I’m forty thousand in debt from college!”
The homeless man looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t quite dare.
In three weeks we’ll look at the idea of economic justice and the whole issue of prosperity and income disparity, but that is not our interest today. Today, we’re simply focused on poverty and the truly poor.
What does it mean to be poor in the 21st century? Well, it depends where you live. In America, though there is no reason for anyone to starve to death, no reason for anyone to be naked for clothing, and no reason for anyone to die in the streets for lack of care, it still happens. We are the wealthiest society the planet has ever seen. Our poorest poor are financially better off than 85% of the rest of the world.
The U.S. Poverty line is around $12,000 per year, which remains in the top 15% of world income. To be broke in America is still to be in the top 15% worldwide.
The median poor family with children in the United States lives in an air-conditioned home with three color televisions, cable or satellite TV, a DVD player, a video game system, and a computer, as well as a refrigerator, an oven, a microwave, and a coffee maker, according to data from the U.S. Department of Energy. Almost 75% own a car or truck and about a third have two or more. Some 42% own their home.
It’s not the same throughout the world. The top 10 poorest countries are in Africa. Central African Republic, Burundi, The Congo, Liberia, Malawi—all have a per capita income below $1000 per year. That’s twelve times less than America’s poverty line.
All this just to say that poverty is relative.
MOTHER THERESA
Mr. Theresa, when meeting in Calcutta with a group of India’s wealthiest patrons, spoke from Matthew 25— “Lord, when did we see you hungry, or thirsty, or a stranger, or naked? And when did we see you sick or in prison?” —and she added:
“Come give them some of your love and your time. They are not starving for food, but for love. They are not naked for clothing, but for dignity. Their prison is isolation and loneliness. Don’t give your money—not today—but give them attention, give them your self.”
The poor are poor for being liked. They are poor for having someone—anyone—who thinks they’re wonderful.
Why else do they—or we—have dogs? The impoverished are those who are poor for dignity—those who feel their own lives are worthless with no value whatsoever.
RELATIVE VS. REAL
When I was in eighth grade, I remember feeling something like shame because I had to wear canvas Converse to play basketball instead of leather Adidas. If white, Chuck Taylor high tops were good enough for my dad to play basketball in every day, they were good enough for me, said he. We weren’t poor, but my dad was a cheapskate—a skinflint—and I suffered the indignities of poverty because I didn’t get the shoes I wanted. That’s America—we’ve raised the bar on relative poverty so high that we have full bellies and luxurious roofs over our head—high tech, 24-hour entertainment—but can still complain that we are underprivileged.
I was a spoiled suburbanite, and like most spoiled Americans, remained blind to my own spoiled-ness for many years.
What helped me more than anything was church. While I grew up attending healthy, relatively wealthy, Presbyterian churches, I always heard the call to care for the poor of the world. In worship, in Sunday School, in youth groups, and even in choir.
When I entered ministry and worked with youth, I discovered the most marvelous secret I could imagine; namely, that caring for the poor is the best antidote to the spoiled, suburban lifestyle.
ANTIDOTE TO SPOIL
First Presbyterian Church of Edmond, Oklahoma had a large youth group. All told, I had between 200 and 300 active youth in my purview. Programming was always a challenge. These included some of Oklahomas wealthier families. I assure you, it is much easier to do ministry to middle class and poor youth than it is richer kids!
One of my first responsibilities was preparing for the annual ski trip to Colorado. It was most popular—sold out every year with a waiting list—it was well known throughout Edmond. What a waste of time! Wealthy and wealthy-ish kids equipped to the hilt in pricey ski equipment on an expensive vaca to the even more affluent Breckenridge, there to be surrounded by people with more wealth, more luxuries—all to the effect of raising the bar of expectation and entitlement. I was miserable. My “spiritual” programming fell on deaf ears as the tired-out skiers sipped cocoa with no interest in anything of the spirit. I had even formulated options—a plan B and plan C—in anticipation of the varying moods for the evenings, but to no avail.
When we returned to the church and I announced there would be no more ski trips, the response was negative in the extreme. Some parents called for my head—they had looked forward to this professional babysitting service each year—but I was resolved—I would rather quit than babysit affluent teenagers again.
Instead, I told them they had to raise the same amount of money, but we were going to start a new ministry among the poor of Nueva Laredo, Mexico. We were going into the border town slums and work with the locals to build school rooms for the children. I promised them the greatest week of their lives. They laughed. I had to pull teeth to get even a dozen kids to go and eventually padded out the trip with nine adults. The Senior Pastor looked down his nose at me like I was a total failure. He reminded me more than once of how 75 kids had gone skiing the year before.
We raised the money, and we went as givers, expecting to find degeneracy and danger, with us as at least a piece of the solution. What we found was virtue, joy, and a healthy community.
There in the colonias, we worked on the school from sun up to sundown, returning each night to sleep on the floor of a fellowship hall in Laredo. Though the work was hard, we had no showers, few tools, and the wind was often strong and filled with dust.
The spiritual program was simple: a plain sheet of paper which said: “Today I saw Christ in the following faces.” That’s it. At the end of day one, there was griping, complaining, and people missing the conveniences of home. No one knew what to do with the sheets; they were tired and grumbly.
At the end of day two, they perked up. They filled out their sheets. By days three and four, they were filling out 3, 4, or 5 sheets.
The colonias, though poor, were not degenerate. The people were kind, the children were happy, and the work was a blessing to all. Kids who had no real idea why they were going there came to life. The cheerleader who couldn’t do her hair or wear makeup became a great friend to the younger guys who were far beneath her league. The adults, too, sprung to life, surprised at the power and impact of the project.
After the last day of work, everyone got to take a shower in Laredo. We put on clean clothes and went out for Chinese food. I had never seen these people happier.
On the way back from dinner, driving through unsavory Laredo neighborhoods toward the church, I had a transcendent moment. Here I was, nearly 30, in a beat-up, unreliable church van full of high schoolers, driving through a crummy town during spring break. I thought, “Why is this my life? Shouldn’t I be married with a couple of kids living in the suburbs driving an SUV? Did I earn two degrees to be doing this?” I don’t know where this came from, but I asked the kids in the van: “You could have been anywhere this spring break—Padre Island, Breckenridge—if you could be anywhere you wanted to be right now, where would you be?”
The posh cheerleader was the first to answer. “Nowhere but here,” she said, “this has been the best week of my life.” The others nodded and chimed in: “Yes, this is the best!” And, weird as it sounds, it was my best as well. Who knew that Heaven would look like Laredo, Texas?
Everyone realized the same thing: we did not travel to Nueva Laredo to help the poor; we went there for the poor to help us. That is the reality: we meet the face of Jesus Christ in the faces of the poor. He waits for us there.
SEEK HIM THERE
Are you hungry to meet Jesus? Do you feel he is at a distance? Would you like to be closer and feel his nearness again? He is waiting for you and he longs for you to see his face. He is eager for you to know and feel his blessing.
Seek him among the faces of the poor and you will see him again and again.
He will meet you when you visit someone in the hospital. He will open your eyes when you give positive attention to someone who is lonesome. He will touch and heal your dissatisfied heart when you abandon the world of excesses—of all the pointless stuff that surrounds and smothers us—and seek to give instead of take.
No Christian should be seen as a taker. All Christians must become givers, or else we risk defaming Christ.
The text says it best:
do not be hard-hearted or tight-fisted toward your needy neighbor. You should rather open your hand, willingly lending enough to meet the need, whatever it may be. †