Editor’s note: This article was adapted from an address given at the April 2005 Mercy Ministry Conference sponsored by Mission to North America and Christian Education & Publications.
When I was a small kid, I was a troublemaker in many different ways, and so my family decided that I should play baseball. When I’d get a hit, I would always find a way to slide. And if I got onto first base, I’d take a big lead to coax the pitcher’s throw so I could slide headfirst back into the base.
And why? So I could get my uniform dirty, because there was nothing worse than walking off the field with a clean uniform. I didn’t know how to slide, so often I would do it awkwardly and skin my knee. Blood would soak through the uniform, and when I walked off that field I was proud of those wounds; I felt like a warrior, and I knew that people would look and say, ”He hurt himself out there,” and they would think well of me.
I think one of the greatest shames we might ever experience is if we cross the Jordan River with a clean uniform. We’ve all had the opportunity to respond to the gospel in a way that would show our deep gratitude—in a way that would mean getting our uniforms dirty—but, for the sake of comfort and safety, we often choose not to. That said, I’m never more encouraged than when I see a denomination that has developed a theology around its own security and comfort leave that mindset, and begin to enter into one that is more biblical.
We sometimes think of discipleship as the dispensing of theological postulates from lofty pulpits; the deeper the postulates, the more mature Christians become. But that’s not the kind of discipleship that Jesus called us to. He says, “If you want to be my disciple, deny yourself, take up your own cross, and follow me.”
One my great frustrations is our use of the term “mercy ministries”—as if this is something for which we need a separate department or new category. But no, this is the heart of the matter. The work of mercy and justice is not something that we add to what we do.
Remember when Jesus corrected the Pharisees, saying, “Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees. You tithed your mint, dill and cumin.” In other words, you are so meticulous about your faith that you even tithed from your spice rack. But, He says, you’ve forgotten the weightier matters of the law and the prophets: mercy, justice, and faithfulness. Jesus did not see these concepts as parenthetical or peripheral; to Him they were the heart of the matter.
How many sermons have you heard on justice recently? Not many, I’d guess. Micah 6:8 says, “He has shown you O man what is good. And what does the Lord require of you, but to do justice and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God?” Are the leaders of our denomination here yet? I’d love to see our prominent pastors in our leading congregations embrace the biblical fact that mercy and justice are at the center of God’s mission in this world. Our teaching and ruling elders need to hear this, because I’m not convinced that we’ve all understood it.
True religion that God our Father finds faultless, James says, is this: 1) to look after orphans and widows in their distress, and 2) to keep oneself from being stained by the world. Now I know that’s not the whole thing. So why would he say it? I think it is because this passage summarizes the heart of the gospel. God expects us to be pious – on the outside and the inside—and our outward piety always includes our care for the poor.
If you go into a typical Christian bookstore, what percentage of the books are dedicated to the development of inward piety and spiritual development? I’d guess 99 percent. And what percentage of books would be dedicated to helping us understand our responsibility towards the poor? The math’s pretty simply. Yet James and Micah and Isaiah and many other cool biblical figures tell us that this is at least half of what God expects of us.
When you look at the constitution of the early church, there were two offices that were given for its administration: the elder, and the deacon. And the deacon was appointed to administer the Old Testament poverty mandate, “There should be no poor among you because in the land I give you I will richly bless you” (Deuteronomy 15:4). Acts 4 brings the mandate forward, “They shared everything in common, no one considered their possessions as their own, and there were no poor among them.”
Jesus is the Word made flesh and He dwelled among us, meaning that the gospel is incarnational, and that caring for the poor was central to the work of the Church—so much so one Roman emperor wrote, “The Christians have shamed us. Not only do they care for their own poor, they care for our poor as well.”
But today, we’ve relegated this critical component of our work to people who don’t even believe in God, and who have used a secular and humanistic mindset to develop their programs and ideas. In the end they’ve entrapped the poor, crippled them, and caused poverty to become a multigenerational character issue. Nowadays when we enter into concentrated pockets of poverty, we find layers of problems that are hard to undo.
It is time for the Church to recover this crucial aspect of our work. And I hope that this becomes a clarion call to the whole denomination—that we would become a group of people so profoundly affected by the gospel of Jesus Christ that we are utterly compelled to lay down our lives for the least and the lost of our communities.
We’re not talking about a new law or some kind of new legalism. We’re talking about understanding the gospel of Jesus Christ and the deep effect it has when we understand what He’s done for us. Philippians 2:5-11 says that our “attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus: Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness.” When we think about our responsibility to the poor, and the business of the church, perhaps it helps to know that Christ left the most exclusive gated community in the universe, and moved into the worst ghetto of Israel. He took on all of our shame, so that we might be seen as innocent. He took our poverty and transformed it into eternal riches. If we ever fully understand the depth of the gospel of Jesus Christ, we will be utterly compelled to go into our communities and lay down our lives, to move into poorer communities and become a part of the fabric of their shame, deprivation, and depravity. And to strive through the power of the Holy Spirit to maintain our purity in those dark places.
I’ve heard people say, “I don’t want to just write a check, I want to get my hands dirty.” But it’s a good idea to start by writing checks. I’m convinced that you can go down to the inner city and do some tutoring and get your urban ministry fix, and yet still not have sacrificed on behalf of the poor. I like the example of John Calvin in Geneva. There, more than half of the money that went into their coffers went to allaying poverty. What percent of our budgets are allocated to alleviating poverty within the covenant community of Christ, much less in our own, broader, neighborhoods?
We have a lot of work to do. This is not some minor repair. It is not like bringing your car in for a checkup and an oil change. We need to have our entire engine rebuilt. We must place God’s heart for mercy and justice at the center of what revs our engine in order to be acceptable before God.
I have four wonderful kids, and since I’ve mentioned them, let me also mention this: A lot of people use their children as an excuse for not entering into the work of mercy and justice, thinking that your primary objective is to protect your children. But your primary objective as a parent is not to protect your children. Your primary objective is to raise your children in the nurture and admonition of Christ. And what is the best context for that? It is where you are obeying Christ. Our children learn from our example and when we wall ourselves away from the problems of poverty, they learn. They think that Christianity is about sheltering yourself from these problems.
Anyway, in the early days, our family would sometimes go on trips, and periodically we would have to stop and get gas. My children loved to get out of the car and help me pump the gas. As a matter of fact, they loved to do anything I did. On this particular occasion they were fighting over who got to help. And so I intervened and said, “It’s okay, you can all help.” And so all my kids come bouncing out of the car. I told Lindsey, my oldest, “Lindsey, you put your hands on top of your dad’s hands,” because Lindsey was not strong enough to hold the handle. And I said, “Lacy, you put your hand on top of your sister’s hand.” Then to Maggie, I said, “You hold your daddy’s thigh.” If you had seen us, you would have been at the very least amused. I invited them into my work. Why? Because my children found joy in being with their father in his work. The reason we carry out justice and mercy is not so much to fill some requirement. It’s about being with our Father—sharing His heart, His mission, and His work.
As you decide to participate in ministries to the poor, you will discover that God has preceded you. And mostly you will just be putting your arms around His thighs, watching Him do what only He can do.
Let us pray and work towards a new reformation in the Church where we see what has been lost in the execution of His kingdom ministry, that it might be recovered and regained, that He might receive glory and honor, and that the Church might be the spotless bride she was chosen to be, caring for those who are lost and needy without Christ.
Mo Leverett is the founder and director of Desire Street Ministries in New Orleans. As byFaith went to press it was believed that Desire Street had been destroyed by floods there. For updated information on Mo and the ministry please check regularly at www.desirestreet.org.
