So, sorry for not blogging much... we can't access the website from T.I for some reason, so, thanks to Melanie's brother, Christopher for posting on our behalf!
Two nights ago, I hung out with my new friend, Taka. He is a great evangelist, and visits prayer houses and churches almost every night of the week teaching. I went with him to a prayer house where he was to teach on tithing. I was expecting a small group of youth to be there, as that's kind of how I understood Taka's work. Turns out this was a full on worship service, with choir, prayer, sermon and about 100 people, all in a space smaller than most Starbucks! The evening was great even though I barely understood a word that was said. No one spoke English and my understanding of their language is pitiful. We spent the evening before and after the service trying to understand one another and teaching each other words from our own languages.
We slept on the floor of the prayer house (a circular mud hut with a grass roof), I in my down sleeping bag and on my Therma-Rest, Taka and a few other blokes on grass mats with small blankets.
In the morning we woke around 6am as the sun was starting to come up and Taka told me he was cold. Of course I had been sweating all night in my down sleeping bag. I threw my sleeping bag over him and he smiled. Then he asked me how much my sleeping bag cost. My ignorance suddenly dawned on me and I felt ashamed of my wealth. How could I tell my friend my “blanket” cost as much as he might make in six months? I told him, and his jaw dropped to the floor. Then he asked about my Therma-Rest; another two month's wages.
This is a brutal tension I've been fighting with for a couple of weeks. The tension lies in the separation created by my culture's materialism and his lack thereof. How do we create biblical community with people as long as there is a stigma attached to me that says I'm rich, therefore “they” are poor?
It's pretty clear that Jesus was homeless, that he cared for those who would normally be left on the fringes - like prostitutes, tax collectors, lepers and the blind. John the baptist said that “if someone has two pairs of long johns or boxer briefs (Greek “chiton,” meaning garment worn next to the skin), he should give one the the person who has none.” Interesting that he didn't actually say “winter jacket,” or “coat,” he said undergarment, which implies that the clothing worn over top should be a given! The early church “shared everything”. Literally everything. Paul and the other disciples didn't travel with much. They traveled to a city and “sought out the brothers” meaning, they went and found the Church (meaning the people who followed Jesus) and the brothers took care of them – gave them a place to sleep and fed them.
Read the story of Ananias and Sapphira. They sold a field and kept some of the proceeds to themselves instead of sharing with the Church. God struck them dead for it. This is the only time in the new testament (that I can think of) where God reaches into our reality to kill someone. So, I think it's a pretty serious warning not to hang on to our possessions.
Does this mean we ought to go out and give away our 42” Plasma, our Rollerblades, our down sleeping bags? I don't know if I know the answer to that... or maybe I'm just afraid of the answer.
Imagine this: Invite a street dwelling heroine addict, who is made in God's image, into your home to watch the football game on your plasma. How do you feel the whole time? Are you comfortable? What are you thinking as he sits on your couch scarfing potato chips? Is HE comfortable?
I submit that your discomfort at the mere thought of this scenario creates distance; distance between you and the heroine-addict-made-in-the-image-of-God. And this discomfort causes you to not even invite the heroine addict into your house. Your stuff is distancing your from the people who need you the most.
Let me ask a question. What differences do you see in the way Christians live their lives from that of not-yet-believers? I mean, besides attending church, having devotionals, reading lots of books or even the occasional night helping in a soup kitchen? What does a Christian go home to? When you stand in the driveway of a Christian's home, what sets it apart from their not-yet-believers house next door? Do the cars look different? How high is the fence? What kind of stuff is hanging from the rafters in the garage? Now... please don't feel like I'm getting after you. Remember, I'm the one with the down sleeping bag, laptop, access to a Land Cruiser, electricity, hot running water and a fence made of cactus that I can guarantee is more effective than yours (as Paul said, “I am chief among sinners”). That's like me living next to you; you in the house you live in now, and me, next door, in Trump Tower. There's distance between you and Donald Trump, isn't there? Why? Because he's rich. That same deep-down disdain you probably feel towards him for his wealth may be the same way the heroine-addict-made-in-the-image-of-God feels toward you.
Maybe, when Jesus was talking about being salt and light and being in the world but not of the world, he was talking about more than just what comes out of our mouthes (which he did talk about, so it's important too) or what movies we watch, or what political issues we stand up for (which he didn't talk about). Maybe His good news isn't just that you can go to heaven when you die. Maybe His good news is that “The Kingdom of God is at hand: it's coming when you feed the hungry, while you clothe the naked, as you visit the prisoner, during your nursing of the sick,” and as a sort of warning, “And I will know you as followers of me when you do these things, and I won't recognize you if you don't.”
Does that make you want to do anything about the “status quo,” “the way things are?”
I know it makes me want to, I just don't know if I have the courage to. But give me one GOOD reason we shouldn't? Being afraid isn't one, because if God feeds the birds of the air, then can't you trust Him to feed you? And “people will think we're crazy” can't be a reason either – Jesus was murdered because people thought He was crazy.
Our lives should look drastically different than our not-yet-believing neighbors, but not in a way that excludes them or distances us from them, as my big white land cruiser with a Jesus fish eating a Darwin fish stuck to the back blaring Micheal W. Smith from the stereo does. What should look different is how we treat a homeless person when we walk past, how willing we are to lend our lawn mower out, (even better, whether we share one between a bunch of families!) whether I'm willing to do without my sleeping bag when I sleep on the floor next to someone who doesn't have one, how I react to the drunk guy walking home in the evening: do I walk on the other side of the road, or do I help him up when he stumbles? These things are the very least of what the Gospel has called us to.
The Gospel just might be calling us to sell our possessions and give to those in need. It might be calling us to move out of Trump Tower and into a grass hut (easier to say than to do), to live in community with other believers and inviting not-yet-believers to join in so that no one has a need that goes unmet.
We just may be able to play a small part in the return of the King, bringing His kingdom a little closer to Earth every time we love “the least of these”.
Wouldn't that be better than locking our doors until the world ends?
Don't usually like John Mayer's lyrics that much, but this one sums it up.
“We see everything that's going wrong
with the world and those lead it.
we just feel like we don't have the means
to rise above and beat it.
So we keep waiting on the world to change.”
So, DO we just keep waiting on the world to change?
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