The Doctrine of Nonaccumulation

Imagine this scene. It is Judgment Day, and from way back in the line of all the world’s billions, you see Jesus sitting on the throne of His glory, dividing the people into two groups, “as a shepherd divides his sheep from the goats.” The news soon makes its way back to you that the criterion for this division is the question of whether or not we have fed the hungry, clothed the naked, taken in strangers, and so on. “Because,” says the King, “inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.” As your turn for judgment draws near, you wonder what your fate will be. You do not have long to wait. You are soon standing before the Almighty Judge, waiting to see whether you have succeeded or failed in obeying the mandate, “As we have therefore opportunity, let us do good unto all men . . .” “Call the witnesses,” orders the bailiff. “Witnesses?” you wonder to yourself. “I didn’t know there were going to be witnesses.” But yes, there will be witnesses, two groups of them, in fact. The first group to enter the courtroom are the widows, the orphans, and the beggars who had lived and died (or more specifically, starved to death) during your lifetime. These people had all lived within reach of any help you would have wanted to offer them. Some could have been reached by you in person; others you could have aided by means of a charitable organization. “Call the next witnesses,” comes the order again from the bailiff. You wonder with a growing apprehension who these witnesses could possibly be. And then you see them. A door opens, and out come all the stocks, bonds, gold coins, rental property, and retirement accounts that you had invested in while on earth. You had chosen to hold on to these items for you own security rather than giving them up for the needs around you. Together, all these assets turn and point one big accusing finger—at you. The verdict is clear. You have nowhere to hide. You bow your head in utter shame and despair. Go to now, ye rich men, weep and howl for your miseries that shall come upon you. Your riches are corrupted, and your garments are motheaten. Your gold and silver is cankered; and the rust of them shall be a witness against you, and shall eat your flesh as it were fire. Ye have heaped treasure together for the last days (Jas. 5:1–3). I would be afraid to keep a live cobra in my house. I would be afraid to keep a ticking time bomb under my bed. I would be afraid to keep an open bottle of poison within reach of my children. But I would be absolutely terrified, after reading James 5:1–3, to keep for myself a large store of earthly investments as long as there are still hungry people in this world.