[12/03/20]
The church, while so much of its function and purpose is indeed inwardly focused upon the growth and maturing of her members, seeks this maturing not for the purpose of maintaining the church alone, but as preparing men and women for the work of the Lord. To this end, the church must ever have a willingness to see her children depart for other places, as any parent must not only accept, but even hope for the day when their children are sufficiently developed as to undertake a life apart from them. This is never a goodbye, but ever a case of multiplying by division, as it were. The child who has moved on to establish his or her own household is not, by that deed made no longer of the family. Rather, while this new household may be established at distance from that of the parent, yet the bonds remain – not unaltered, but certainly unsevered.
We have seen that in the matter of marriage, the man is called to let go of parental cleaving and cleave instead to his bride and wife. So, too, the one who has matured and undertaken service to Christ in other parts will have need to let go of past associations in some degree. He is no longer answerable to the leadership of that former body, for he is now part of another body. If I change the analogy and consider the donor of a transplant organ, that donor no longer has say as to the functioning of the organ. Its function is now ordered by the new body into which it has been transplanted. It answers to a different leadership, and so, too, must the member who has moved on to another church.
I have discussed already that such a move is not a thing undertaken lightly, but rather, for a very limited set of reasons: Relocation, departing from the company of heretics, or – and here, perhaps I have remembered the third item from Pastor Ron’s list – to answer a calling into the service of the Lord. In other words, to pursue a ministerial calling. That may or may not be a call to the pastorate. There are other ministerial callings. The call to the role of evangelist comes to mind. That may be a bit of a hybrid calling, for the evangelist still has, one presumes, a sending church, to which his membership yet belongs, and to whose leadership he remains submitted. Yet his ministry must take him often from the fold of the local church to other locales, and those other locales may include service in other bodies, whether for a single day or for a period of time.
I should also have to observe that such departures for ministerial calling are still undertaken primarily in the service of that inward function of the church, only now, it is the Church writ large, rather than the church which is the local body. Such a sending into service ought rightly to be a cause for joy in the body from which such a one has been sent, and I think, by and large, where it is an individual sent, that holds up well. But what happens, when the sending is on a larger scale? I have been through the process of hiving off a new church from the existing body, and this, too, should be cause for great rejoicing. If the church is family, then here we have sent our child off to start a new life of service to our Christ, and that child is establishing its own household to the glory of God. What is not to celebrate here? Yet, to quote the bard, parting is such sweet sorrow. There are holes in our pews and our lives which do not so quickly close up. I think there must be a question we ask ourselves in such a time, which is whether we are undertaking to heal, or whether we have made idols of those holes, and seek carefully to preserve them, lest we forget our pain in this process of birthing.
While I do not in truth suppose this is the intended way in which the church operates, it is certainly the reality of how it operates that over time members and families come and go. This may be for good reason or poor, but it is the nature of our world that the opportunity exists to shift bases, and people will undertake to do so for myriad reasons. It may be to settle amongst those whose secondary beliefs are more in keeping with our own. It may be so petty a reason as matters of style. It may be the sense that they have outgrown the ministry, which, while it is often suggested as legitimate cause is in truth more a refusing to give back of one’s gifts to the benefit of the body. How many depart because this body is no longer serving their needs? Ought not the question to have been how they were to contribute to the needs of the body from their gifts? The famous quote from President Kennedy, think of him what you will, is perhaps suitably applied to our life in the church. “Ask not what your church can do for you, but what you can do for your church.” It’s a shift of mindset that is certainly apt for the believer. But that continues the inward function, doesn’t it? And I keep saying that I’ve shifted to the outward function.
What is that outward function? I could suggest that it is, by and large, the effort to make that which is outside suited to be inside. It is to seek and save the lost, which is, after all, the work of our Lord. We labor at a bit of a disadvantage in that we cannot be sure who is merely lost and who is irrevocably reprobate. But then, that is not our concern. Our concern, as our Lord Jesus made clear, is to cast the seed, not to try and force its growth. We are to sow, and to sow indiscriminately. We don’t first assess the crowd to see whether they seem a receptive group or not. We don’t reserve news of the Gospel for those whom we suppose, in our limited perspective, would make find additions to the kingdom. Whether the soil be rocky and hard, or clear and fertile, we sow. Wherever the seed falls and takes root, praise God! And where it doesn’t? Praise God! His will is done. Whether, then, our efforts prove to be to the salvation or the condemnation of those to whom the Gospel is preached, our God is glorified in the result, for it is according to His will. Is that callous and hard-nosed? I suppose perhaps it is. Yet it is also truth. The growth is God’s concern. Ours is to be willing and useful instruments of His will. To be sure, we would and should pray for good growth, for an outcome of salvation, but we daren’t carp at God if the result turns out to be otherwise. Thy will be done, Lord.
I think, too, we can include matters of charitable acts in the outward function of the church. There is a place for societal benefit from the ministry of the Church. We looked at this a bit earlier in this exercise, as I recall. God causes His sun to shine on good and evil alike. His rains satisfy the needs of those on the inside and those on the outside. He does not withhold Himself completely from those who reject Him. If He did, Creation would long ago have ceased from existence, and the Son would never have come, for there would be nothing to save. But that, while certainly true, will tend to distract us from the instruction inherent in understanding this of God’s nature. Jesus, praying for His disciples as He prepared to face the Cross, prayed, “I do not ask Thee to take them out of the world, but to keep them from the evil one” (Jn 17:15). We cannot serve the kingdom by withdrawing from the world. The kingdom cannot expand in retreat. Nor is victory to be had in falling back. No. “But we are not of those who shrink back to destruction, but of those who have faith to the preserving of the soul” (Heb 10:39). Yes, I know. Bit of a stretch applying that to my present line of thought.
My point, however, is that we are called to be a blessing to the world around us, even if the world around us proves undeserving and uninterested. It has ever been thus, hasn’t it? Abraham, from the outset, was operating under the promise that nations would be blessed in him, indeed, “in him all the nations of the earth will be blessed” (Ge 18:18). Why? “For I have chosen him, in order that he may command his children and his household after him to keep the way of the LORD by doing righteousness and justice; in order that the LORD may bring upon Abraham what He has spoken about him” (Ge 18:19). Note well: That blessing is not restricted to his household, but because of his household doing righteousness and justice, the blessing extends. Because doing righteousness and justice is not confined to the inward function of the body, but applies outwardly.
Okay, so here’s a terribly mundane outward function of the church. By her teaching and her discipline, the member is made a more useful member of society because, as that promise to Abraham entails, her members are trained up to keep the way of the LORD by doing righteousness and justice. That informs our activities and our behaviors. That informs our service to our employer – not as rendering lip-service only, but serving well and honorably, reliably, honestly. That informs our relationship with civil authorities, to such degree as they may apply. We are not a rebel force, although our allegiance rightly belongs to the kingdom of God in which we have our citizenship. For we recognize that whatever we may think of the current cast of characters that populate our government the fundamental fact remains: Those who govern do so as God determines.
It happens that this morning’s readings covered Daniel 4. There, the message is given to Nebuchadnezzar that he is going to lose his realm and his sanity for a time, until he comes to his senses as regards God Most High. This shall persist, Daniel informs him, “until you recognize that the Most High is ruler over the realm of mankind, and bestows it on whomever He wishes” (Dan 4:25b). Thus, Paul advised the church, “Let every person be in subjection to the governing authorities. For there is no authority except from God, and those which exist are established by God” (Ro 13:1). One can’t read that without recognizing the sort of authority that pertained at the time he wrote. This was the age of Nero, Caligula, Domitian and the like. These were hardly rulers that had any apparent value to the growth of the Church, but rather, of the ilk who saw themselves as gods and the Church as an opposition to be destroyed utterly. They failed, of course, but not because the men of the Church rose up and bore arms. No, but victory belongs to our Lord, who conquered them with prayer and grace.
[12/04/20]
This is difficult for us to maintain, these days, as it seems that society is determined that everything must be made political, and having been made political, must bow to the whims of the ruling order. This feels a particular evil, or at least a particular disappointment for us here in the west, who have known liberty for so long, but it really is more the standard behavior of mankind, if we take the historical view. The will to power has been there since Eden, and sadly, we are not immune to its lure today. Let me stress that: We are not immune. Even we, the Church, suffer inclinations toward wielding the power and demanding conformance to our ordinances and views, if we cannot achieve agreement with them. It is dangerous, I think, that we lose sight of this in ourselves, for we then become convinced of the rightness of our inclinations without basis.
It is one thing to desire that all might come to know our God and love Him, serving Him with hearts rendered soft to His influence and lives devoted to His good purpose. It is quite another to attempt to achieve this end by main force. It has been said often enough that one cannot legislate morality, and I do believe that is quite true. Enforced morality is not morality in the least, for morality is of the soul, the character of the man, and not of outward form only. Ethics may allow us to conform, or to put a good face on things by complying with the present mores of society, but these have little to do with morality, by and large. Morality must, in the end, be discovered in the law and character of God, but it must be exercised as a matter of will, a matter of voluntary and determined agreement with the goodness of God’s ways, from a desire to live in a fashion pleasing to Him who made us.
This may seem an odd angle to pursue under the heading of church function, and particularly its outward facing function. But it is the function of the church within society to live demonstrably moral lives, even when those morals conflict with the prevailing ethic. To walk in the world, but unsullied by the world is a tall order, but one with significant impact. It doesn’t require a combative attitude. Indeed, it is ill-served by such an attitude. Towards outsiders as towards those within her folds, the demeanor of the Church in all her members is intended to be loving, compassionate, caring, and let us say, paternal. I could say maternal as well, but I think the maternal aspect, in our current setting, tends to suggest a certain permissiveness and condescension to the sins of the child. A father’s love, on the other hand, may express in sterner, corrective expression. It is no less loving, but far less tolerant of disobedience. There is a reason for the cliched expression of the frustrated mother warning her child, “Wait until your father gets home.” But the wise father exercises the sterner aspects of his leadership with care, not falling into fits of rage at the rebellious child, but issuing correction suited to the need, however much it may pain him to find it necessary to do so.
How does this inform the church in her external function? The world is populated by rebellious children. It is the inescapable fallout of the fall. “For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Ro 3:23). That is the most inclusive ‘all’ in the whole of Scripture. None escapes its bounds but Jesus. None. The most eminent saint is still found amongst the number of those who have sinned. The greatest heroes of the faith have in them, every one, the seeds of sinfulness and the fruit thereof. But where God’s grace has shone forth and His call been made, it has been also answered, as it must be, and the blood of Jesus has made its perfect atonement for those sins. Hope remains in spite of the blanket condemnation of every man, woman, and child that has ever taken breath in all of creation.
The wise believer recognizes this reality as regards himself; that whatever good there is in him now is due wholly to God’s beneficent mercy towards him, and nothing of his own meritorious activity. Indeed, whatever may be counted as meritorious in his activities today will be accounted as having been done by Christ, by the Spirit of Holy God indwelling, the Father working upon that man in order that he may both will and work to His good pleasure, and it is only on this basis that he finds himself working out his salvation (Php 2:12-13). It is with that same perspective that the wise believer looks upon the unbelievers around him. These are not the enemy. These are creatures made in the image of God even as himself, as unworthy of salvation as himself, but likewise, as much a candidate for salvation as himself. It is not his to redeem or condemn, but to make known to this lost soul the One Who can and will.
It is his to sow the seeds of the knowledge of God, and in particular, the awareness of God’s Gospel – the gloriously good news that where fallen man had no possibility of redemption, God has made a way in the life, death, resurrection and ascension of His Son, Who will yet once more come to dwell with man, or more rightly viewed, to bring man to dwell with Him – as His eternal kingdom returns to its proper, all-encompassing extent, and the usurper, the devil and his minions, as well as his dupes among mankind, are once for all removed unto eternal punishment.
This is a hard message to bear, joyful though it can be, for we know that many who hear it will refuse it. Many of those with whom we share our days are determined for destruction. We cannot help but recognize that reality, for God has made it abundantly clear that a large portion of mankind is allowed to persist solely in order that the full maturity of their sins may be granted time to flourish, in order that the justice of their eternal punishment may be fully revealed in due course, to His eternal glory. But we do not, we cannot know the final condition of those to whom we bear news of His offered redemption. We can know that some will hear to their eternal benefit. Some will know the wonder of His call, whether through our words and efforts, or through those of others amongst our brethren, and will in fact repent and come to Him who alone can forgive and make new.
This is, must be, the primary, fundamental function of the church towards the surrounding world. It has always been the primary function. But it cannot be an exercise of forced compliance, ala the Crusades or the Inquisition or like abuses of the name of Christ. It will be by the convincing evidence of a life well lived, or it will not be at all. The church that exercises great campaigns of evangelism, but then demonstrates an abject worldliness in her practices will, perhaps, succeed in planting the gospel in those lives in which God is pleased to see it planted, but it will be in spite of their efforts more than it is by their efforts. God will not be thwarted in His purposes, even by the disobedience and foolishness of His own children. Far preferable, though, that church which can offer the example of God’s love alongside God’s Word. This, I think, draws us towards the sorts of things encouraged by what unfortunately tends to slide into the realm of the social gospel. But that latter aspect is an abuse of the proper function, leaving aside the gospel entirely in pursuit of redemption by works. And that’s at its best. At its worst, it has entirely left God behind and come to worship some vague concept of godness rather than the Most High God, Creator of heaven and earth, in Whom alone we live, and move, and have our being.
[12/05/20]
Does this mean the church ought to have nothing to do with seeking to address society’s ills? No. After all, the Bible is filled with calls to care for those who cannot care for themselves, to see to the needs of the orphan and the widow, to feed the hungry and clothe the naked. These calls do not properly discover limits as to their application. That is to say, it is not solely the widow, the orphan, the hungry and naked of the church for whom we ought to care, but for all humanity, for every image-bearer in need. So, by all means, let us undertake to provide for those who cannot provide for themselves. But let us do so in the wisdom of God, not in the ill-advised, “we must do something” fashion of the emotionally overwrought. The latter tends always to make matters worse, but the former will produce good results.
Consider the proverb. “If your enemy is hungry, give him food to eat; and if he is thirsty, give him water to drink; for you will heap burning coals on his head, and the Lord will reward you” (Pr 25:21-22). Now, admittedly, that image of heaping coals on somebody’s head is not one easy to understand for us. Is the call to torture them with kindness? Or was there some form of ancient remedy being depicted in that description? Well, Paul certainly sees it as expressing a kindness rather than some perverse sort of cruelty by kindness. He quotes that proverb in the midst of making his own point, preceding it with, “Never take your own revenge, beloved, but leave room for the wrath of God, for it is written, ‘Vengeance is Mine, I will repay,’ says the Lord.” He then follows the proverb with this concluding admonition. “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good” (Ro 12:19-21). Leave the vengeance business to God, Who will assuredly administer Justice justly. But what if, in His Justice, He chooses to redeem rather than avenge? Will we, like Jonah, complain of it? Or will we rather welcome these brothers to the fold? Paul is certainly one to be glad that God chose the former course with him. I suspect many of us could say the same.
Indeed, I suggest all of us could say the same, and in fact must. “But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us” (Ro 5:8). We, who deserved only the wrath of God’s vengeance, have discovered ourselves instead the objects of His love, and that has implications for us as we look to this outward function of the church. John writes to this effect. “In this is love, not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son to be the propitiation for our sins.” And then the kicker. “Beloved, if God so loved us, we ought to love one another” (1Jn 4:12-13). How far and wide shall that love extend? We might reasonably ask how far and wide does His? If He is our model and our ideal, shall ours rightly extend less? Clearly not.
It goes back to that question asked of Jesus, “Who is my neighbor?” This was asked, we are told, in an effort at self-justification. The questioner had in his own turn answered a question, as to the Law’s instruction in regard to obtaining eternal life. He had first asked, “Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?”, which question Jesus had answered with a question of His own; effectively saying, “You tell Me.” But He was far more polite about it. “What is written in the Law? How does it read to you?” It really is a matter of informing this lawyer of the church that there should be no reason for any such question. But it was also a probing of that lawyer’s understanding not of the letter, but the spirit of the Law, and as such, of God Whose law it is. As to the letter, he did fine. “You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.” So far so good. And interestingly, Jesus doesn’t really push him as to how well he understands what he just quoted, but rather commends him for the answer and simply points out that he has answered his own question in supplying that answer. “You have answered correctly. Do this, and you will live.” But the lawyer reveals himself. He reveals both that he understands the true implications of that law he has quoted, but also desires to find a loophole that would allow him to comply. “And who is my neighbor?” He’s probing the limits. How far do I need to take this (Lk 10:25-29)?
In truth, the earlier part of his answer should have already left him quite clear on the fact that compliance remained far beyond his capacity. However much we may come to love the LORD in this life, I don’t expect I shall ever encounter one whose love as managed to achieve the goal of all their heart, all their soul, all their strength, all their mind. We shall never have arrived at the place of loving God as much as we ought – not in this life, certainly. Those who suppose they have done so have deluded themselves, much as this lawyer had done. He tries to limit the scope first to earthly expressions of love, because honestly, loving God with every fiber of our being is beyond us first and foremost because we love ourselves too much to allow that to happen. Even those who profess to loathe themselves to large degree in fact express a perverse sort of self-love. That’s probably a theme worth enlarging upon in its own right, but not here. Suffice to say that self-loathing tends to be self-serving.
But really, by focusing on the neighbor business, he’s trying to lower the bar, reduce the standard to something with which he can claim compliance. Yes, yes. Let’s leave God out of this, because we know we can’t manage that bit. But what about the second clause? How far is this brotherly love of mine required to extend before I am in compliance? The house next door? A block? A city? A nation? Surely there must be bounds on this part. But Jesus effectively informs him that the answer is no. The parable of the good Samaritan which comes in reply to this dishonest question gives honest answer. This one whom you would despise for no better reason than that he was born outside the bounds of what you consider civil society, and who has, for that reason, the greater reason to loathe you for having been born within those bounds, instead responds with kindness far in excess of the minimum. Others, we note, from the select society of Israel, had left this one to die, preferring to preserver their own appearance of holiness by leaving this one untouched. But the Samaritan, this one whom our lawyer would have dismissed as worse than a Gentile and inherently corrupt in his nature, cared for the wounded traveler, saw him put up in a place that could tend to his recovery, and paid the full cost of that service. Jesus concludes His example with a question. “Which of these three do you think proved to be a neighbor to the man who fell into the robbers’ hands?” The lawyer could not avoid the obvious answer. “The one who showed mercy to him.” Neither could he evade the obvious implication. “Go and do the same” (Lk 10:30-38).
That same instruction must surely inform the Church today. We are not a good neighbor to the lost around us if we become satisfied to commune within our walls and do our uttermost to pretend the world outside either doesn’t exist or doesn’t matter. It’s tempting. As I was reading this morning, it has been a temptation to those who accept the sovereignty of God right on down through the ages. If He knows His elect, and they cannot fail to be redeemed, then why should we be concerned to deal with them? Let God sort it out. Not like He needs us, after all. Yes, that’s all true. And yet, He condescends to grant us a part in His activities, to be useful and know ourselves useful. Indeed, He commands us to it, as this morning’s Table Talk article reminds. Even with His sovereignty well in view, the command to the Church remains: “Go and make disciples.”
That’s more than just preaching, although the message of the Gospel remains our principle purpose. But that message comes not solely in words proclaimed, but also in the proclamation of the power of the Gospel by our own deeds, by the change in our own lives. That change will, one supposes, be most obvious to those who have known us prior to our responding to God’s call. I suppose if it isn’t obvious to them, we might have cause to question whether we are believers or rather like that lawyer to whom Jesus gave answer. But let it be supposed that they who knew us recognize that things are not the same. “And in all this, they are surprised that you do not run with them into the same excess of dissipation, and they malign you; but they shall give account to Him who is ready to judge the living and the dead. For the gospel has for this purpose been preached even to those who are dead, that though they are judged in the flesh as men, they may live in the spirit according to the will of God” (1Pe 4:4-6).
Granted, Peter’s message is a tad enigmatic in its details here. Is he really saying that the early church used to wander the graveyards proclaiming the gospel? I don’t think so. Is he making oblique reference to Jesus’ activities during that period between cross and resurrection? Perhaps. But I think, rather, that he has in mind those who yet sit in darkness, and have not as yet seen the great Light of Christ. They are dead so long as they persist in this condition. But perhaps, the gospel preached will bring them to life, if it be God’s will. And if not, then I dare say that the preaching of the gospel has removed all doubt that they heard news of God’s mercy and refused it. We may reasonably say, then, that their sins are thereby made complete, and God’s eventual judgment made demonstrably Just.
There’s a message to the church in this: Your mission is to proclaim. It is not to trim that effort down to where you think it will be most fruitful. You’d only discover you were incorrect in your assessment anyway. We are really rather awful at assessing who will respond how. Indeed, we don’t know if the response will come of an instant or if, perhaps, the message we plant today might finally take root and flourish some years hence, or whether, to our sorrow, the seed may not grow at all. We simply don’t know. What we do know is this: God is faithful, and His Word does not go forth without accomplishing all His good purpose. Our challenge is that we have our presuppositions of what His good purpose must be, and therefore, if things don’t go the way we imagined they should, we suppose either we must be defective, or God unreliable after all. And, since we can’t bear the thought that the latter might be true (and rightly so, I must say), we conclude our own faith is suspect. No. Our faith is fine. The problem is our supposition that our finitude can fully and accurately assess God’s infinitude.
Now, I again observe that proclaiming the Gospel is central, pivotal to the obedient life of the Church, and that applies both to inward function and external. But it is not bare words, but words accompanied by deeds. That love which is given in word only, but leaves the needs of the ostensibly loved one unaddressed is no love, but what has come to be called virtue signaling. Oh, we’ve become ever so good at giving gaseous expression to our concern for this one and that, for this cause and that – and frankly, the more remote the cause from us, the better we are at proclaiming our compassion. But what are we actually doing about it? All these marches and lawn posters and what not; what do they do to improve the lot of the downtrodden? How do they put food on the table of the widow or the orphan? In what way are they clothing the naked? They are not.
It strikes me that the Social Gospel, as it has been practiced, is little more than bribery; little more than an attempt to buy the love of those around us. Even where the Social Gospel has not corrupted the life of the church entirely, it seems our programs have something of this flavor to them. Every one of them come to a place of being gospel-plus, as Pastor Dana used to describe it. It’s not that we are placing an additional requirement upon the one who would be saved. No, it’s something rather sadder, really. It’s that we think the Gospel needs something added to it in order for it to be presentable. If it’s not fun, they won’t give it a listen. If it’s not hip, they won’t subscribe. Who’s going to like us on Facebook, if all we’ve got on offer is the unvarnished message of Christ?
Does this require us to do away with every ornamentation? Does this mean that maybe all our musicianship, and the technology, and the sound system and such need to be scrapped as we pursue another round of iconoclasm? Strip the house of its ornament! Do away with all but the preaching and the ordinance. Is that it? No, I don’t believe so. Even then, where would we stop? Perhaps a trained pastor, with gifts for elocution and clarity of instruction ought likewise to be done away, and we’ll just have a lay clergy, as it were, meetings in which all are equally involved in the proclaiming of God’s Word as they feel led to proclaim. It can, surprisingly, be done with some decency and order, but I’m not sure it can be done to good effect. I recall the services up in Camp Berea being like this in my youth, and if you thought your service was boring, I dare say you’ve got nothing on these guys! Unaccompanied singing after having read out the hymn, long silences while either those inclined to speak sought for something worth saying, or perhaps simply hoped to avoid the embarrassment of two voices starting at once; these are not so conducive to a sense of God’s nearness as one might suppose. It’s primitive. I’ll give it that. It might even be authentic. I have no reason to suppose otherwise. But it’s hardly cause to suppose that the addition of musicianship, of oratory prowess, of careful preparation of the Word and artful presentation of the same is somehow contrary to the plan of God.
Neither ought we to suppose that every effort to tune our presentation to the culture is somehow a compromise of the Gospel’s integrity. Paul’s efforts in ministry show a great understanding of the culture into which he bears the gospel, and even an appreciation for it, within reasonable bounds. It is no crime to make oneself presentable to the culture, understandable by the culture. The crime comes in seeking to make the message acceptable to the culture. For the culture, being fallen, is never going to find the Gospel acceptable. But the Gospel, rightly preached and presented will ever find its mark, however staunch the opposition.
So, we do not cower away in enclaves of the righteous. We do not retract into the shell of the monastery. We remain in the world, and serviceable to the world. We love as we have been loved, not in response to those who may love us in return, not in hope of reciprocation, but in hope that love might win through and make the power of God known. In this light, certainly we ought to involve ourselves in such activities as might provide a social net of sorts for the downtrodden. But we do so with care, not as enablers of sloth, but as providers for true need. “For even when we were with you, we used to give you this order: If anyone will not work, neither let him eat” (2Th 3:10). Compassion for the homeless has its place, but I do think we need to consider the why and the wherefore. Many choose this as a lifestyle, not as an unwelcome necessity of circumstance. Many have no desire to change, no will to work. Our emotional desire to see them helped will be of no value if they are unwilling to be helped. Yet, I am again mindful of God’s help toward me. He did not wait for me to be willing, but rather rendered me willing. Perhaps I need to think upon this further.
[12/06/20]
I suspect that, as with so many aspects of this Christian life, this perspective needs a careful balancing. There is a place for even unwarranted compassion in our disposition toward the lost, and yet there is also just reason to limit that compassion. I think, while it seems somewhat counter-intuitive, that we have need to act with a presumption of receptiveness in those we find in need of our generosity of spirit and goods. But this must be exercised with that call of Christ to be shrewd as serpents and gentle as doves. His instruction to His disciples did not leave them with any illusion as to the nature of their mission. “Behold, I send you out as sheep in the midst of wolves; therefore be shrewd as serpents, and innocent as doves. But beware of men; for they will deliver you up to the courts, and scourge you in their synagogues; and you shall even be brought before governors and kings for My sake, as a testimony to them and to the Gentiles. But when they deliver you up, do not become anxious about how or what you will speak; for it shall be given you in that hour what you are to speak. For it is not you who speak, but the Spirit of your Father who speaks in you” (Mt 10:16-20).
The focus here is on the bold proclamation of the Gospel, certainly, but the same might be reasonably applied to our efforts of charity. Here, too, is cause to be shrewd yet innocent, to beware of men who will so readily abuse your generosity. Here, too, is the need to rely on God for how and what you will do. Do not withdraw from society, for that is not an avenue left open to those who live as witness to Christ our Lord. That is not our calling. But neither be so readily duped by the world. Keep your innocence in regard to them. And how shall we do this? I dare say, by continuing to preach the Truth in love, both by our words and by our actions. We do so by loving fearlessly, even when spitefully used. Did not our Lord Jesus do that very thing, even though He was and is by rights the King of all creation? Shall we, then, do less than to love as He loved, to minister to those in need, even when such ministry brings against us calumnies and condemnation? Shall we reserve ourselves for ourselves, our pour ourselves out as a drink offering unto our God? That’s the options set before us. I think, in spite of what might be said of yesterday’s conclusions, that we must choose to act charitably at least so long as there remains hope of life in that one we would aid. It will take a gift of discernment which I suspect is well beyond any given to man to assess with certainty when that line has been crossed, and as such, yes, I think we are left to exercise compassion period.
We cannot compel compassion. We cannot and ought not to compel such from our fellow man, certainly not those who are not of the body. We may as well demand righteousness of the damned. It is unlikely to produce any useful result. But for our own part, yes. A love broad enough to encompass all, even the worst of sinners, is our calling. And that love which is not active, as our Apostles teach us, is no love at all, any more than a faith that has no works displayed is a faith of any sort at all.
Let the Church, then, take up her twofold duty: To equip her citizens for service, and then to serve with all her heart. Let her serve first those who are of the household of God, yes, but by no means let it stop there. We who believe are not so much in need of a witness. We are a witness. We who know the provision of the treasury of heaven poured out upon us are not in a place of need and want, but in a place to satisfy those who are. Let our compassion and love be known of us, whether in company with ridicule or in company with a more just assessment. The response, after all, is not ours to control, nor is it the proper measure of our service to Christ. Obedience is the proper measure. Conformance to His image and His example; that is the proper measure. And what is that example? “For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish, but have eternal life. For God did not send the Son into the world to judge the world, but that the world should be saved through Him” (Jn 3:16-17). Let our mission be no less broad in scope, no less willing to give, and no more judgmental. The sick and dying around us require not so much judgment as healing. Jesus will come in due course with judgment in regard to sin, and that matter can safely be left in His capable hands. Ours, in the present, is to offer life, to offer Life worthy of the name life, in the name of our Lord, Who is Himself the Lord of Life. Let us, in the Spirit and together with Him, magnify our Christ, our Messiah. Let us do so by our words, by our actions, by our demeaner and our character, that in all things He may be glorified in us rather than in spite of us. Let us seek in every way to bring attention to His majesty, and to demonstrate His goodness to a watching world, however that world may respond. That seems a fitting message to end this study. So be it. Amen.
