“But if any one has the world’s goods and sees his brother in need, yet closes his heart against him, how does God’s love abide in him?” – 1 John 3:17
Dear Disciple of Christ,
I completed my presentation of the decision to care for the homeless last week. But the need for care continues relentlessly and those of us in a position to provide care (through monetary assistance or ability to assist personally), must do so. It is tempting to separate ourselves from action because those in need are not put there by our actions. We didn’t cause the need and so we wonder if we have any responsibility to help or guilt if we don’t. John makes clear the answer to that question, but it is likely clear to us with a general understanding of what it means to love the way Christ loved us. It is sometimes more clear in the action (or inaction) of others than in our own, but when we see it in our own lives, we should own it. Let me provide a couple of examples.
Nearby our church in Queens was a jail for New York City, referred to by the name of the island on which it was situated, Rikers Island (it is an island, accessed only by guarded bridges). It is more than 400 acres in size, handling more than 100,000 “admissions” a year with an average population of about 10,000 people. I mention that to indicate the challenges involved in maintaining control of that number of people. But let me also mention that 85% of people there have not been convicted of a crime (they have been arrested and are awaiting trial).
I was visiting one of our visitors to church who got a message to me asking for a visit and I was waiting to be let in to meet him. There was a large room where I sat with many other families looking for their loved ones and being called forward based on numbers we received when we entered the room. One particularly distraught mother came forward when her number was called. She was asking about her son who police indicated had been arrested and brought to Rikers. The guard, one of six, seated behind long folding tables, checked his login list. “Nope, he’s not here… Next!” The woman became even more distraught. “Please, check again. This is where they said they sent him.” The guard said, with a dismissive tone, “I told you, he’s not here. NEXT!” The woman stood there with tears running down her cheeks, not knowing what to do.
Another guard, this one looking more “important” (or more powerful) was standing behind the six seated guards holding a clipboard in his hands. He saw what was happening and looked concerned and caring.He came over to the woman and asked gently, “What is your son’s name, Ma’am?” She told him and he called someone on his phone. Turning back to the woman he said calmly, “It will be OK, Ma’am. He’s at the Tombs in Manhattan.” He then gave her directions how to get there (we were in Queens and the “Tombs” were in Manhattan). The whole exchange with the supervisor took about three minutes, but the care was impactful. He used his position and power to make a difference for the woman. It didn’t solve all her problems (or that of her son), but it was help she needed. I wish I knew what drove the guard to do that. Could it have been his faith that opened his heart and expanded his “job” from perfunctory to personally providing care? I would hope so.
Another example? My secretary in Queens came from Germany and when I arrived at the church in 1982, she was still not a naturalized citizen. But she worked on the process (not easy in those days either) and finally had completed most of what seemed to be endless paperwork. She had one final meeting in Manhattan to complete the process and receive her citizenship. After taking her number and waiting for hours, she finally went forward to meet one of the workers to submit her paperwork. “This is wrong,” he said, “all wrong. The names don’t match.” She explained that when she entered the United States she came under her maiden name but that she got married and had a different last name now. “But the paperwork is all wrong. You have to start over.” Ilse broke down in tears.
Once again, a supervisor, came forward, heard the description of the problem, went one floor up with Ilse and, in less than half an hour, had it all worked out. Ilse could become a citizen at last! It didn’t take long to work it out. It took heart. And let’s add one more body part – our eyes! Those who provided care did so because they had their eyes open and their hearts as well.
So another “lesson learned” in the “trenches” of church life is the importance of stewardship. Stewardship? Yes. This is a matter of using what God has given us to accomplish His will. That is the root of stewardship, not money but our selves. That prayer we use when offerings are brought forward is a most excellent reminder of what we are called to do. “We offer with joy and thanksgiving, what God has first given us; our selves, our time and our possessions, signs of God’s gracious love.” In some ways, as the prayer puts it, our donations of money are the last we offer. They are of best value when they represent our selves. It is the offering of our selves, with our skills and positions that allow us to make a difference.
We each work in a world that operates with different goals and concerns, that often values the “bottom line” more than those who live at the bottom of the socio-economic rung of the ladder, those in need. If we, in a position to make a difference, tied to and representing Christ, do not work to make a difference, who will? And, if we who have the power to help a person in need, and we “close our heart to them,” we must wonder if and how we think God’s love abides in us.
I can only assume that your church, and I know that our church, has a series of ministries that provide care to others. It is most appropriate for us to participate in one or more of those ministries of care. But we are also called to minister out in the world, to keep our eyes open to see the needs of those around us and to provide loving care in the name of Christ. That is what disciples do who have the love of Christ in them.
Peace in His service,
Pastor Johnson