45 Sermon Illustrations on Least Of These

Small boy found frozen to death in Chester, Nebraska, on Christmas Eve 1985. No clue as to identity or cause of death. Face was torn, but turned out to be due to small animals. Town called him "Little Boy Blue," then "Matthew," which means "Gift of God." Town buried him when no leads turned up. Hundreds gave money, visit gravesite. Pastor said the way people treat the weak and powerless, like the little boy, is how they are treating Jesus.

Churches need to reach out to the handicapped.

(1) What would Jesus do?

(2) Why we need the handicapped

(3) What can you do?

Illustration: from Tony Campolo.

A handicapped boy attended a junior high church camp. The boy walked with a limp and spoke with a severe lisp that at times made his speech incoherent. As a prank, his cabin mates chose him to lead the mealtime devotions for the whole camp, thinking it would be great fun to see him embarrassed.

Not realizing their malicious intent, the boy limped to the podium and very slowly, deliberately, and sincerely - with a stutter and a lisp - declared, “Jeesssuss loooves meee! And I looove Jeesssuss!” A silence fell over the cafeteria. Some of the boys from his cabin had tears in their eyes. Tony Campolo recalls that more lives were opened to Christ through that moment than in any other experience of the week.

God had not chosen the football hero or the most outgoing, polished speaker to accomplish his purposes that week. As is typical throughout the gospels, God used the most unexpected and, at first glance, most unlikely person to convey his message. (1 Cor 1:27-29).

Used in sermon:

God's call of the weak is the heart of the gospel.

(Illustration: Tony Campolo)

A handicapped boy attended a junior high church camp. The boy walked with a limp and spoke with a severe lisp that at times made his speech impossible to understand. As a prank, his cabin mates chose him to lead the mealtime devotions for the whole camp. They thought it would be a lot of fun to see him embarrassed.

Not realizing their malicious intent, the boy limped to the podium and very slowly, deliberately, and sincerely - with a stutter and a lisp - declared, “Jeesssuss loooves meee! And I looove Jeesssuss!”

A silence fell over the cafeteria. Some of the boys from his cabin had tears in their eyes. Tony Campolo recalls that more lives were opened to Christ through that moment than in any other experience in camp.

God had not chosen the football hero or the most outgoing, polished speaker to accomplish his purposes that week. As is typical throughout the gospels, God used the most unexpected and, at first glance, most unlikely person to convey his message.

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Disregard for poor brings God's condemnation. Our response to the poor is our response to Christ. The deeds which God approves flow naturally out of a right relationship with God. It is what a person does when he is not seeking approval that shows his true character.

Comments on passage by Martin Luther and others. Luther: "Why don't you do it now? You have Christ in your neighbor."

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Events to raise money for the poor are popular now. Christians have been doing it for centuries. One person can make a difference.

Pascal was a university professor who was thrown into prison in Madagascar after a Marxist coup. There he became a Christian. When he was released he started a small export company, but returned to prison to preach. On one visit he saw fifty corpses and was told there was an epidemic going on. Instead of an epidemic it turned out to be malnutrition. Pascal tried to get others to help and ended up cooking meals in his own kitchen for the prison. "Without benefit of a government agency or even a theme song, this little platoon makes all the difference for seven hundred prisoners in Madagascar."

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Colson met Pascal in Nairobi, Kenya, at a Prison Fellowship International conference. The above is taken from "Kingdoms in Conflict."

One person can make a difference. Colson calls them, "little platoons."

Frieda Weststeyn, in the course of her volunteer work in a California prison, noticed the number of pregnant inmates in the visiting room. Curious, she asked how the women would care for their babies. The answer jolted her. Most of the children would go into foster homes, be put up for adoption, or farmed out to the inmates' families. The mothers would rarely, if ever, see their babies once they were born.

Frieda went home, talked with her husband, prayed, and decided to do something practical to help these imprisoned mothers. Soon she was caring for five babies in her own home. (The state, which had no such program of its own, did enter at that point - ironically - to restrict Frieda to care for only three children at a time.) She kept Ryan (2 mo), Amber (8 mo), and Petey (17 mo). Three days a week she takes them to see their mothers in prison.

"I stepped out in faith," Frieda says. "I had no money to jump into a full-fledged ministry, but I knew this was a need I could help with."

NBC news featured her in 1986 and the government gives her milk products. Many have sent donations.

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The above is taken from "Kingdoms in Conflict."

Ten typical actions of con artists given: too many details in story, name dropping, urgency, etc. Also, five ways to avoid being taken.

In the winter of 1990, I was asked to appear on a television talk show in Toronto, Ontario, Canada. At the end of our first day of taping I was on my way back to my plush, high-rise, cable-TV, twenty-four-hour room service hotel, when I saw something I’d never seen before.

Lying on the sidewalk against a building in four inches of snow was a man sleeping with only a cardboard blanket to keep him from being completely exposed to the freezing cold. What really broke my heart was when I realized that he wore no shoes or socks.

I thought to stop and help him but was not quite sure what to do. As the traffic light turned green, it seemed life was demanding that I move along. So I did. Back in the “anything I wanted was mine” environment of my hotel, I promptly forgot about the man on the street.

Several days later, prior to the morning taping, I was having coffee and Danish in the green room at the station. All of the “important” people had left the room and it was just me and the janitor remaining.

I had seen him quietly go about his business every day while I was there, and he never said a word except “Good morning” or “Can I get anything for you, sir?” He always had a smile to give to everyone. When I asked him how he was feeling today, he told me that he’d been having to ride his bike to work in the snow and that he’d been feeling rather sorry for himself … that is, until he saw a man sleeping down on the corner of Yonge Street and Bloor with just a piece of cardboard for covering from the cold and no shoes. I almost choked on my Danish as I heard him go on to relate how he was so moved with compassion for the man that he went around the corner to a store and bought the man a pair of socks and shoes.

As I heard his story, I saw in my mind a poster that used to be in an old friend’s bedroom when I was a teenager. It was a picture of a child handing someone a flower and the caption read: “THE SMALLEST DEED ALWAYS EXCEEDS THE GRANDEST OF INTENTIONS.”

I stood there wishing it was me who had bought the shoes and socks for the man, when they called my name to come to the set.

As I got to the studio, they were just concluding an interview with a social worker who specialized in benevolence for eastern Ontario. The social worker relayed a story about Mother Teresa, who when asked once how she had accomplished such great things in her life responded, “NONE OF US CAN DO ANYTHING GREAT ON OUR OWN, BUT WE CAN ALL DO A SMALL THING WITH GREAT LOVE.”

When I went home that day, I looked for the man on the street. He was gone, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before someone took his place.

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By Michael Peterson from Chicken Soup for the Country Soul, Copyright 1998 by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen and Ron Camacho

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Rev. Wiley Drake, the pastor of the First Southern Baptist Church in Buena Park, California, had a heart for ministry to the homeless. His church started an outreach program to the homeless that included a program to help drug addicts get clean and help them develop skills to get reacclimated with the work force. In addition, they were encouraged to attend a weekly Bible study, though this was not required to be part of the program. The church ran an active soup kitchen out of the fellowship hall and soon they were working with dozens of homeless folks in a very successful program that was turning lives around.

Success was a problem when the Mayor, the City Manager, and the Chief of Police requested a meeting with the pastor and the leaders of the church. They were informed that there were too many shabby people who were visible from the main thoroughfare that tourists frequented on their way to Disneyland. The town elders were concerned about the image projected to tourists by the large number of homeless people congregating in front of the church daily. They asked the church to shut down their mission.

The problem was that the pastor and the leaders of the church saw the mission as the ministry of the church, that is what they were all about spiritually speaking. It may well be the case that the town elders thought this outreach was merely an extension of the church. It may well have been the case that the town elders thought church was simply preaching and singing between the hours of 11 and 12 on Sunday morning. But the church didn't see it that way and refused to change.

As a result the authorities investigated the church use and cited them for I I criminal charges for various zoning violations, The pastor was cited, the deacons of the church, and the church treasurer as well. The violations appeared to the church as amounting to subtle harassment. They were cited for using a hallway, originally permitted as a thoroughfare, for storage, because cartons of juice were stacked there for daily distribution to the poor. The fellowship hall, originally zoned as a church, was deemed as operating as commercial property because regular transfers of-food -and drink were taking place there.

The case actually came to trial. Of the original I I counts, 7 were dropped. But four remained bringing with them a possibility of 2 years imprisonment and $2000 in fines against the pastor. The trial proceeded and the pastor was convicted.

There is divine humor at the end of this story. The judge, apparently annoyed that the trial was being held in the first place, sentenced the' pastor to 1500 hours of community service. He then remanded the sentence citing time already served in feeding the homeless. As one lawyer noted, "This may be the only case in American jurisprudence where the sentence was the crime."

These kinds of disputes with our towns are inevitable and likely to grow, particularly in urban areas like New Jersey. The town managers have a primary interest in promoting quiet, non-offensive piety in well-defined districts. But the free exercise of religion is not so easily contained. Furthermore, the free exercise of religion is not simply a privilege among other privileges. In our Constitution, it is a fundamental right.

Rev. Dr. Charles T. Rush, Jr.

Christ Church, Summit, NJ

In Brooklyn, New York, Chush is a school that caters to learning disabled children. Some children remain in Chush for their entire school career, while others can be mainstreamed into conventional schools. At a Chush fundraising dinner, the father of a Chush child delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended.

After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he cried out, "Where is the perfection in my son Ryan? Everything God does is done with perfection. But my child cannot understand things as other children do. My child cannot remember facts and figures as other children do. Where is God's perfection?"

The audience was shocked by the question, pained by the father's anguish and stilled by the piercing query. "I believe," the father answered, "that when God brings a child like this into the world, the perfection that he seeks is in the way people react to this child."

He then told the following story about his son Ryan.

One afternoon Ryan and his father walked past a park where some boys Ryan knew were playing baseball. Ryan asked, "Do you think they will let me play?" Ryan's father knew that his son was not at all athletic and that most boys would not want him on their team. But Ryan's father understood that if his son was chosen to play it would give him a comfortable sense of belonging. Ryan's father approached one of the boys in the field and asked if Ryan could play.

The boy looked around for guidance from his teammates. Getting none, he took matters into his own hands and said. "We are losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him up to bat in the ninth inning." Ryan's father was ecstatic as Ryan smiled broadly. Ryan was told to put on a glove and go out to play short center field. In the bottom of the eighth inning, Ryan's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three. In the bottom of the ninth inning, Ryan's team scored again and now with two outs and the bases loaded with the potential winning run on base, Ryan was scheduled to be up. Would the team actually let Ryan bat at this juncture and give away their chance to win the game?

Surprisingly, Ryan was given the bat. Everyone knew that it was all but impossible because Ryan didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, let alone hit with it. However as Ryan stepped up to the plate, the pitcher moved a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Ryan should at least be able to make contact. The first pitch came in and Ryan swung clumsily and missed. One of Ryan's teammates came up to Ryan and together they held the bat and faced the pitcher waiting for the next pitch. The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly toward Ryan. As the pitch came in, Ryan and his teammate swung at the bat and together they hit a slow ground ball to the pitcher. The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could easily have thrown the ball to the first baseman. Ryan would have been out and that would have ended the game.

Instead, the pitcher took the ball and threw it on a high arc to right field, far beyond reach of the first baseman. Everyone started yelling, "Ryan, run to first. Run to first." Never in his life had Ryan run to first. He scampered down the baseline wide-eyed and startled. By the time he reached first base, the right fielder had the ball. He could have thrown the ball to the second baseman who would tag out Ryan, who was still running. But the right fielder understood what the pitcher's intentions were, so he threw the ball high and far over the third baseman's head. Everyone yelled, "Run to second, run to second." Ryan ran towards second base as the runners ahead of him deliriously circled the bases towards home. As Ryan reached second base, the opposing short stop ran to him, turned him in the direction of third base and shouted, "Run to third." As Ryan rounded third, the boys from both teams ran behind him screaming, "Ryan run home." Ryan ran home, stepped on home plate and all 18 boys lifted him on their shoulders and made him the hero, as he had just hit a "grand slam" and won the game for his team. "That day," said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, "those 18 boys reached their level of God's perfection."

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[Other versions of this story use different names for the child.]

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The USS Greeneville has been one of the proudest vessels in America's fleet of nuclear submarines. Unfortunately, she is now forever associated with a terrible tragedy at sea. During a rapid surfacing drill, the submarine collided with a Japanese fishing ship, sending that ship to the bottom of the ocean and costing the lives of nine of its crew and passengers. There has been much controversy on the causes of the accident. But some things are clear - the crew of the Greeneville certainly didn't intend for anyone to get hurt - but their hasty move did some terrible damage.

Well, I'm Ron Hutchcraft and I want to have A WORD WITH YOU today about "Hurting People On Your Way Up."

It could be that things are really moving quickly in your life right now - including you. Maybe you're even on your way up - in your business, in your personal goals, or in your ministry. But like that submarine, you could be moving so quickly that you are running into or over people. Maybe even people you love.

Martha did it to her sister Mary in our word for today from the Word of God. Luke 10:38-42 tells us that Jesus was visiting their home and "Mary sat at the Lord's feet, listening to what He said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to Him and asked, 'Lord, don't You care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself?'" Martha is moving so fast that she basically steps on her sister. Jesus commented on how stressed out Martha was and then said that, in choosing to be with Him, Mary had actually "chosen what is better."

This is never a comfortable passage for me to read ... because I'm too much Martha. Maybe you are, too. Moving fast ... lots to do ... and, like that submarine, unintentionally sinking people on your way up.

If your progress and your success are leaving behind a trail of wounded or neglected people, then it's costing too much. Maybe you just don't have time for the people you work with ... for the people you live with ... for people who really need your attention. It could be that your business has made you more negative, more critical, or harsh - and you're moving so fast that you can't even see what you're becoming or what it's doing to the people close to you. Or maybe you only have time for the "big" people these days. Of course, in Jesus' eyes, there are no little people. Or, to put it another way, the "little" people have always been the big people to Him. How about to you?

Someone who's listening has a husband or wife that has been shoved to the edge by your rise to the top or your nonstop running. That's wrong, even if it's in the name of work done for God. Or maybe there's a son or daughter who used to be top priority for your time and attention - but not anymore. They've been pushed aside by all the "important" things you've got to do. You've got nothing more important than them.

It's time to get back to the lifestyle that is modeled by our Lord Jesus Christ. Remember, He said in Mark chapter 10, "Whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant ... For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many." (Mark 10:44-45) Don't get to rising so fast or moving so quickly that you're sinking the people around you.

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Copyright © Ron Hutchcraft Ministries, Inc., PO Box 400, Harrison, AR 72602. Used by permission. Written by Ron Hutchcraft. "Practical Answers to Real Life Issues"

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One of the most beautiful of all Christmas stories was told by the American poet, Edwin Markham, about a cobbler, a godly man who made shoes in the old days. One night the cobbler dreamed that the next day Jesus was coming to visit him. The dream seemed so real that he got up very early the next morning and hurried to the woods, where he gathered green boughs to decorate his shop for the arrival of so great a Guest.

He waited all morning, but to his disappointment, his shop remained quiet, except for an old man who limped up to the door asking to come in for a few minutes of warmth. While the man was resting, the cobbler noticed that the old fellow's shoes were worn through. Touched, the cobbler took a new pair from his shelves and saw to it that the stranger was wearing them as he went on his way.

Throughout the afternoon the cobbler waited, but his only visitor was an elderly woman. He had seen her struggling under a heavy load of firewood, and he invited her, too, into his shop to rest. Then he discovered that for two days she had had nothing to eat; he saw to it that she had a nourishing meal before she went on her way.

As night began to fall, the cobbler heard a child crying outside his door. The child was lost and afraid. The cobbler went out, soothed the youngster's tears and, with the little hand in his, took the child home.

When he returned, the cobbler was sad. He was convinced that while he had been away he had missed the visit of his Lord. Now he lived through the moments as he had imagined them: the knock, the latch lifted, the radiant face, the offered cup. He would have kissed the hands where the nails had been, washed the feet where the spikes had entered. Then the Lord would have sat and talked to him.

In his anguish, the cobbler cried out, "Why is it, Lord, that Your feet delay. Have you forgotten that this was the day?" Then, soft in the silence a voice he heard:

"Lift up your heart for I kept My word.

Three times I came to your friendly door;

Three times My shadow was on your floor.

I was the man with the bruised feet.

I was the woman you gave food to eat,

I was the child on the homeless street."

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In Edwin Markham's lovely poem, "The Shoes of Happiness," Conrad, the old cobbler, dreamed one night that the Master would come to be his guest. When the dawn was yet young, he arose and decorated his little shop with bright and gay flowers and waited. When the Master would come, he would wash the feet where the spikes had been and would kiss the hands that the nails had punctured.

But the Master did not come. A beggar came, and Conrad gave him a pair of shoes. An old woman came bent from the weight of a heavy burden. He lifted the load off her back and refreshed her with food. And finally, just before the day was about to fade away into darkness, a little child came. Her eyes were wet with tears, and in pity Conrad led her back to her mother. But the divine guest never came: Then soft in the silence a voice he heard "Lift up your heart, for I kept My word.

Three times I came to your friendly door; Three times my shadow was on your floor.

I was the beggar with bruised feet, I was the woman you gave to eat, I was the child in the homeless street."

"Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these My brethren, ye have done it unto Me" (Matthew 25:40).

Dr. Joe Stowell tells a story about visiting the Shepherds Home and School for children with Down's syndrome. He remarks that the founder of the school told him, “Joe, we always share the Gospel with these kids. We tell them that Jesus Christ died on the cross for them, and that Christ will forgive their sins, and not only that, but the day is coming when Christ will come back and take them to heaven.” This educator went on to explain the school’s biggest maintenance problem: dirty windows. The windows of the school stayed dirty, he said, “Because our kids spend time every day at the windows, hands pressed, faces and noses pressed to the window, looking up to see if this might not be the day that Jesus, the One who loves them, comes to get them and take them to heaven.”

When I heard this story, it took my breath away and made me ashamed at how clean my windows are. Although I try to live my life in such a way that I am ready for Christ’s return, I spend almost no time expecting it and watching for it.

A few years ago I was participating in a Bible study at a drop-in center for homeless men. We had sung a few praise choruses, and after the last one a man timidly raised his hand and said, “I need to get one thing straight; is Jesus coming back or something?” I’ve never had a greater privilege than imparting this “news” to him, stammering in surprise, “Yes...as a matter of fact he is!”

Yet the wonder of knowing that Jesus will return is not a part of my daily life. Occasionally it will wash over me at church when we proclaim, “Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ WILL come again!” Sometimes it tingles through me when I notice a dramatic skyscape or listen to glorious organ music. But I want to get in the habit of at least glancing out my east window, habitually expecting the imminent return of Christ. When I make my plans, I should mentally or vocally note that Christ may return before I accomplish them. The expectancy of Christ’s return puts our life and problems into perspective, and if we watch and pray for it we will become more mindful of how we use the days we have left.

There is another way we can watch for the coming of Christ. Jesus taught in Matthew 25 that after he returns, he will say to those who are entering his kingdom, “I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me” (Matthew 25:36, NIV). One day when he returns, we will meet Jesus in his glory. But today we will meet him in the person of someone who is needy. Although we don’t know the day or the hour of his second advent, we do know that every time we encounter someone whom the world considers “the least of these,” we have encountered Jesus (Matthew 25:40). Ironically, the two stories that reminded me of the wonder of Christ’s coming were encounters with children and with one who was in need. May every encounter with those who seem the least be an opportunity to remember Christ’s coming, to honor him by honoring them.

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Copyright © 2004 Ravi Zacharias International Ministries (RZIM). Reprinted with permission. "A Slice of Infinity" is a radio ministry of Ravi Zacharias International Ministries.

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[Original illustration here was a duplicate in HolwickID 25837-26027]

Anyone who has reservations about the ways in which society uses science and technology is often accused of being “afraid of science.” That's unfair; having ethical concerns about science is not the same as being afraid of it.

But there is one group that has good reason to be literally afraid of science. That's the group who are in danger of being wiped out by it: the disabled.

Look at the stories about the new prenatal Down syndrome test. According to the NEW ENGLAND JOURNAL OF MEDICINE, this test can now detect Down syndrome much earlier in a pregnancy, and is more reliable. Lead researcher Fergal Malone told reporters, “In light of this study, we should offer screening to all women in their first trimester.”

But why would we do that? The MIAMI HERALD states, “Screening women before the second trimester allows those who might opt to terminate a pregnancy to make that decision when an abortion is safer and less traumatic” -- “less traumatic,” I suppose, for the mother. The paper goes on to say that the test can also help parents prepare for their child's needs should they decide to keep him or her. But let's get real. As I've reported before, about 90 percent of parents who discover that their unborn child has a chromosomal disorder abort that child. Does anyone honestly think earlier testing will cause those numbers to go down?

People with Down syndrome know better. Mia Peterson of the National Down Syndrome Society is one such person. Interviewed by the NEW YORK TIMES about the new test, Peterson said, “I don't want to think like we're being judged against [society]. Not meeting their expectations.”

Michael Berube, co-director of a disabilities studies program and father of a son with Down syndrome, also understands how dangerous it is not to meet society's expectations. He told the TIMES, “The more people who think the condition is grounds for termination of a pregnancy, the more likely it will be that you'll wind up with a society that doesn't welcome those people once they're here. It turns into a vicious cycle.” Absolutely right.

The NEW YORK TIMES is hardly known as a pro-life paper, but give it credit for explaining just what this could mean: greater loneliness for those few remaining disabled people, fewer research dollars allotted to study their conditions, to say nothing of their possible eradication through abortion.

Talk about the remedy being worse than the disease. Through a socially acceptable form of killing, we would take the opportunity to eliminate an entire group of people in order to spare ourselves from having to deal with their differences -- because that's what it really comes down to. Anyone who listens to Mia Peterson and others like her knows that lofty talk about making the best decision for the child's sake, to keep that child from suffering, is hogwash. People with Down syndrome and other disabled people are not asking us why we did not kill them. They are asking us why we won't accept them just as they are.

Afraid of science? No. What we're afraid of is the prejudice and selfishness of those who would use science to spare themselves pain or inconvenience. That's something that not just pro-lifers understand, but anybody who is different. In this case, the people disabled understand it all too well.

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Copyright (c) 2005 Prison Fellowship Ministries. Reprinted with permission. "BreakPoint with Chuck Colson" is a radio ministry of Prison Fellowship Ministries.

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The words “justice” and “social justice” have long drawn the ire of segments of American Christianity, particularly white evangelical leaders. They have consistently said that it is unbiblical, un-Christian, and yes, un-American.

Baptist News Global reported on May 18, 2018, that this sentiment may be coming to the floor of the Southern Baptist Convention this summer in the form of a resolution drafted by Pastor Grady Arnold of Calvary Baptist Church in Cuero, Texas.

Arnold’s resolution cites political commentator Glenn Beck who said on his radio show in 2010 that Christians who find the words “social justice” in their church’s literature or teaching should “run as fast as they can” from that church and find a new one. (It is worth noting that Beck has since apologized for how he “helped tear the country apart”).

The rhetoric from this camp has not been subtle. Arnold’s resolution bluntly says that “social justice and Christian ethics are clearly antithetical to each other.” Richard Land, who once led the Christian Life Commission, said that social justice was an idea “hatched in hell.”

Although none of this is new, it never ceases to amaze me how those among us who call themselves “Bible-believing” and claim to have the highest and most literal reading of scripture can so unabashedly dismiss a subject that is among the Bible’s most mentioned, and that Jesus explicitly affirmed.

In Jesus’ long list of woes against the Pharisees and teachers of the law (Matthew 23:13-36), he rebukes them for neglecting “the weightier matters of the law: justice, mercy and faithfulness” (v.23). There it is; first in a list of the top 3. Jesus was essentially quoting Micah 6:8 in which the prophet says that what the Lord requires of us is to “do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God.”

In the Old Testament alone, “justice” is mentioned hundreds of times in reference to the systemic oppression of vulnerable populations at the hands of the rich and powerful. Here is a very small sampling:

“Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow.” (Isaiah 1:17)

“Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free...” (Isaiah 58:6)

“This is what the Lord says: Do what is right and just. Rescue from the hand of the oppressor the one who has been robbed. Do no wrong or violence to the foreigner, the fatherless or the widow, and do not shed innocent blood in this place.” (Jeremiah 22:3)

“Woe to him who builds his palace by unrighteousness, his upper rooms by injustice, making his own people work for nothing, not paying them for their labor.” (Jeremiah 22:13)

“There are those who oppress the innocent and take bribes and deprive the poor of justice in the courts ... But let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream!” (Amos 5:12, 24)

What you should see in these passages is not just a clear concern for vulnerable populations, but also that they are identifying large scale, systemic issues that are not possible to address by way of mission trips, church service projects, or benevolence. These verses and many others mention things like wages, taxes, greed among the rich, and bribery.

Evangelicals who rail against the idea of justice do not deny that the Bible commands Christians to care for the poor and needy, but they seek to make a distinction, saying that individuals and churches are supposed to help the poor and needy, but not try to do so through political processes nor demand that the government do so. This ignores the context of these Bible passages and the problems they mention. How can injustices caused (and maintained) by political forces be remedied by individuals and churches?

If Congress passes a law that makes health insurance unaffordable for millions of additional Americans, compassionate churches trying to pay a few medical bills or run a clinic drain their resources while leaving the root cause of the problem in place. If our president halts refugee resettlement programs and cancels protected status for certain immigrants, it’s virtually meaningless to talk about helping them since they won’t even be here to help. If your city or county is focusing all its resources and energy on the middle to upper class parts of town and neglecting the poor section, your casserole or clean up project is almost insulting.

Proverbs 31:8-9 calls us to “defend the rights of the poor and needy.” How are we supposed to do that without engaging those who are taking those rights away? A bucket of water doesn’t do much for a house that’s on fire.

Modern faith leaders’ opposition to justice can be traced to some sinister roots in the 1930s. Justice was more commonly preached in American pulpits in those days as the corporate power structure had lost clout with the people because of the 1929 stock market crash. The corporations hated the New Deal, but they were going to need some help in getting Christian America back on board with their agenda. Princeton history professor Kevin M. Kruse says that they found that help in Los Angeles-based Congregationalist pastor James W. Fifield, Jr., who started a movement called “Spiritual Mobilization.” His main sponsors were Sun Oil President J. Howard Pew, Alfred Sloan of General Motors, the heads of the U.S. Chamber of Commerce, etc.

Using a version of the prosperity gospel, Fifield engaged in a successful campaign to bring tens of thousands of preachers around to the idea that government protections of workers and consumers were antithetical to Christianity. He even sent cash prizes to ministers who won “sermon contests” by obediently preaching their desired message. The business magnates desperately needed Christians to keep their love stuff confined to compassionate handouts rather than the Bible’s message of justice. Some 80 years later, their successors are still reaping the rewards.

I don’t see how it’s possible to love my neighbor without justice. This is my call to the Church to put more weight on the “weightier matters,” and follow the One who said that he was anointed to “proclaim good news to the poor ... proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to set the oppressed free” (Luke 4:18).

Protestant judge Lothar Kreyssig and Catholic Bishop Clemens von Galen courageously resisted the Nazis’ war on the disabled. Sadly, that war still rages today. And America has been on the front lines for nearly a century.

The story is told in two indispensible books: War Against the Weak by Edwin Black and Better for All the World by Harry Brunius. Both Black and Brunius tell us the all-but-forgotten story of how the United States tried to stop what Theodore Roosevelt called the “wrong type” from perpetuating themselves.

The idea that we can manage who is born and who isn’t is called eugenics. It was the creation of an Englishman (Francis Galton, Charles Darwin’s cousin), but it didn’t really take off until it reached America. And whereas Galton’s goal was to persuade the “right type” of people to have more children, his American disciples were more concerned with reducing births among the “wrong type.”

The weapon of choice in what a colleague of mine has called “apple pie eugenics” was forced sterilization. Between 1907 and 1927, “the United States [shockingly] became the pioneer in state-sanctioned programs to rid society of the ‘unfit.’” Thirty states enacted forced-sterilization laws.

And it didn’t take much to be considered “unfit.” New York actually contemplated prohibiting marriage between people who wore glasses and others who didn’t!

Apple-pie eugenics reached its peak in the 1927 Supreme Court case, Buck V. Bell. The famous Chief Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes, upholding Virginia’s decision to sterilize Carrie Buck, said “It is better for all the world” if “society can prevent those who are manifestly unfit from continuing their kind.” He then concluded infamously with the words, “Three generations of imbeciles are enough.”

It didn’t matter that neither Buck nor her mother were “imbeciles” or that the “science” behind eugenics was quackery. What mattered was that it offered the chance to remake society - in other words, to play God.

As Brunius and Black chronicle, what was going in America was closely followed abroad. Countries such as Canada, Sweden and, yes, Germany used American laws as models for their own statutes.

And American eugenicists actually offered both technical and moral support to the Third Reich’s program.

While Nazi crimes and atrocities exposed the horror of eugenics, the idea of playing God, and the war on the weak it entails, has never gone away. What Black calls “newgenics” seeks to achieve many of the same goals in a “kinder, gentler” way.

The most obvious example is prenatal genetic testing. This is how we get Down Syndrome children identified in the womb and kill them. Since we are years, if ever, from being able to fix genetic abnormalities in utero, the logic of prenatal genetic testing is inexorably tied to taking lives, not alleviating suffering.

Just think how society has advanced-now we can solve the problem of the “manifestly unfit” in a way earlier generations of eugenicists could only have dreamed of: getting rid of them without the bad publicity. Who will resist on behalf of the victims?

Do I hear any volunteers?

________

Copyright (c) 2011 Prison Fellowship Ministries. Reprinted with permission. "BreakPoint with Chuck Colson" is a radio ministry of Prison Fellowship Ministries.

[see also HolwickID #30866]

Three days after receiving the news of his appointment as Sango Methodist Church’s pastor, Willie Lyle was awakened by a dream at 2 a.m. This dream was different from any in the past. In this dream, God told Willie to do something very specific, and God promised Willie if he would do this, then He would provide for Willie and protect him. What God asked Willie to do was not something Willie wanted to do, and he had no interest in doing it. It was clearly out of his comfort zone.

In that dream, God told Willie that he needed to live on the streets of Clarksville, Tennessee, as a homeless and hungry person. He challenged Willie to experience firsthand just what it was like to have nothing - no home, no money, no friends, no food on even a semi-regular basis, no nothing. Willie wasn’t eager to do this, but he said, “You know, life isn’t always comfortable. Jesus wasn’t comfortable on the cross.”

His wife, Suzette, dropped him off in downtown Clarksville early Monday morning, June 17, and he lived on the street through the next four days. He learned from firsthand experience just how many people who are fortunate in life look down upon and ignore the homeless, the hungry and the poor without ever taking the time to learn their story. “Generally speaking, people are not kind to the homeless,” he observed.

Remarking on what he now understands so much better, “Homeless people walk slowly, and now I know why. They physically hurt all over from sleeping on concrete, the ground or on wooden floors. They don’t own Air Jordans and thick socks. People should try sleeping on a wooden floor sometime. It’s painful.”

Throughout the week, Willie kept a small journal of what he was experiencing. These notes become the foundation for the sermon he delivered at Sango Methodist on June 23, a sermon that caught the congregation off-guard. Only four people at the church knew what Willie was doing.

Early morning on June 23, Willie lay under a tree on the church lawn covered up by a big overcoat. He still had not shaved or combed his hair. He wondered how many people would approach him and offer him food, or a place to sit inside an air conditioned room, or just see how they could help. Twenty people spoke to him and offered some type of assistance.

The sermon title was “The Least Used Parts of the Body” and based on 1 Corinthians 12:12-15. According to Pastor Lyle, “Often the least used parts of the body are the ones that mean the most, like our heart and mind. We need to understand that there are no small or least used parts in the body of Christ.

“Too many of us only want to serve God one hour each week. That doesn’t cut it. That is not God’s plan.”

While he preached, his daughter-in-law cut his hair and his daughter helped shave off his scruffy beard. He changed shoes, and beneath the overcoat, he was wearing his Sunday clothes. He put on a tie and his suit coat, all the while continuing to preach his message. Before the 200 people gathered that morning, he went from looking like a homeless person to the new pastor of the congregation.

Willie got the attention of those present, and some were uncomfortable. “If I made someone squirm, then so be it. Sango UMC is not going to be a congregation that talks about issues and solutions. We are going to be part of the solutions to the problems we face in our community. We are going to get our hands dirty as we live like Jesus and help others. Talking is easy. Doing is harder, and sometimes it is really uncomfortable.”

At the end of the sermon, Lyle issued his challenge. Part of that challenge called for the congregation to “do our mission,” and service to others is going to be a major part of that.

Pastor Willie Lyle said, “Our goal should be to improve and change the lives of people as we live like Jesus. You see, we look at the outside of others and make judgments. God looks inside at our heart and sees the truth.”

Peggy Wehmeyer is considering filing for divorce. Her grounds will be infidelity and betrayal. She is heartsick about it. She doesn’t have any issues with her husband, who is fine, but her intimate partner of more than 30 years, the evangelical church, is another matter.

They met at the University of Texas, whose tower is inscribed with the words, “Ye shall know the truth and the truth shall make you free”. Peggy was looking for truth, for a philosophy that would make sense of a messed-up world. She found it in the teachings of Jesus. And even though her relationship with evangelicals would be rocky at times, she stayed faithful.

If you find your partner is unfaithful, you face the reality of packing your bags and leaving. But how do you leave a church whose members brought you meals for five months when you were bedridden with a difficult pregnancy? How do you separate from a partner whose encouragement and spiritual wisdom helped you raise your children? And why would you reject a lover who reminds you that your value is measured by the quality of the love you give and not by your popularity or prestige? You don’t. You hang on through the heartbreak, until you can’t hang on anymore.

The first crack in Peggy Wehmeyer’s relationship with the evangelical church came when her children drifted to more socially conscious churches.

One daughter became a public defender lawyer and sometimes fights for guilty criminals to get fair sentences. Peggy asked her how she could defend bad guys, and wouldn’t Jesus want her to be a prosecutor instead? Her daughter responded, “Are you kidding, Mom? He hung out with prostitutes and sinners. He’s for the disenfranchised and powerless. If I’m going to follow Jesus, I follow him into the prisons.”

Her other daughter teaches Special Ed in the inner city. Peggy begged her to teach in a safer neighborhood.

She responded, “If we’re the hands and feet of Jesus - like you taught us - this is where I need to be.” It struck Peggy that all those Bible stories her husband and her had read to them at the dinner table each night had stuck, just in ways she was unprepared for.

Peggy is not a typical evangelical - she was the religious reporter for ABC News, the only one on a national network. She did reports on Promise Keepers and the True Love Waits chastity program and defended them to her liberal co-workers. The liberals liked to call us evangelicals “swamp people.”

Peggy knew that evangelicals valued personal morality and serving the wider good. Now she is not so sure. Evangelicals on the national stage seem to be more interested in power and influence and winning by any means. Instead of making it our mission to serve and protect the most vulnerable, the church now seems desperate to BE served and protected. Peggy Wehmeyer is not sure how much longer she can belong.

One of the most beautiful of all Christmas stories was told by the American poet, Edwin Markham, about a cobbler, a godly man who made shoes in the old days. One night the cobbler dreamed that the next day Jesus was coming to visit him. The dream seemed so real that he got up very early the next morning and hurried to the woods, where he gathered green boughs to decorate his shop for the arrival of so great a Guest.

He waited all morning, but to his disappointment, his shop remained quiet, except for an old man who limped up to the door asking to come in for a few minutes of warmth. While the man was resting, the cobbler noticed that the old fellow's shoes were worn through. Touched, the cobbler took a new pair from his shelves and saw to it that the stranger was wearing them as he went on his way.

Throughout the afternoon the cobbler waited, but his only visitor was an elderly woman. He had seen her struggling under a heavy load of firewood, and he invited her, too, into his shop to rest. Then he discovered that for two days she had had nothing to eat; he saw to it that she had a nourishing meal before she went on her way.

As night began to fall, the cobbler heard a child crying outside his door. The child was lost and afraid. The cobbler went out, soothed the youngster's tears and, with the little hand in his, took the child home.

When he returned, the cobbler was sad. He was convinced that while he had been away he had missed the visit of his Lord. Now he lived through the moments as he had imagined them: the knock, the latch lifted, the radiant face, the offered cup. He would have kissed the hands where the nails had been, washed the feet where the spikes had entered. Then the Lord would have sat and talked to him.

In his anguish, the cobbler cried out, "Why is it, Lord, that Your feet delay. Have you forgotten that this was the day?" Then, soft in the silence a voice he heard:

"Lift up your heart for I kept My word.

Three times I came to your friendly door;

Three times My shadow was on your floor.

I was the man with the bruised feet.

I was the woman you gave food to eat,

I was the child on the homeless street."

=================

In Edwin Markham's lovely poem, "The Shoes of Happiness," Conrad, the old cobbler, dreamed one night that the Master would come to be his guest. When the dawn was yet young, he arose and decorated his little shop with bright and gay flowers and waited. When the Master would come, he would wash the feet where the spikes had been and would kiss the hands that the nails had punctured.

But the Master did not come. A beggar came, and Conrad gave him a pair of shoes. An old woman came bent from the weight of a heavy burden. He lifted the load off her back and refreshed her with food. And finally, just before the day was about to fade away into darkness, a little child came. Her eyes were wet with tears, and in pity Conrad led her back to her mother. But the divine guest never came: Then soft in the silence a voice he heard "Lift up your heart, for I kept My word.

Three times I came to your friendly door; Three times my shadow was on your floor.

I was the beggar with bruised feet, I was the woman you gave to eat, I was the child in the homeless street."

"Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these My brethren, ye have done it unto Me" (Matthew 25:40).

Dr. Joe Stowell tells a story about visiting the Shepherds Home and School for children with Down's syndrome. He remarks that the founder of the school told him, “Joe, we always share the Gospel with these kids. We tell them that Jesus Christ died on the cross for them, and that Christ will forgive their sins, and not only that, but the day is coming when Christ will come back and take them to heaven.” This educator went on to explain the school’s biggest maintenance problem: dirty windows. The windows of the school stayed dirty, he said, “Because our kids spend time every day at the windows, hands pressed, faces and noses pressed to the window, looking up to see if this might not be the day that Jesus, the One who loves them, comes to get them and take them to heaven.”

When I heard this story, it took my breath away and made me ashamed at how clean my windows are. Although I try to live my life in such a way that I am ready for Christ’s return, I spend almost no time expecting it and watching for it.

A few years ago I was participating in a Bible study at a drop-in center for homeless men. We had sung a few praise choruses, and after the last one a man timidly raised his hand and said, “I need to get one thing straight; is Jesus coming back or something?” I’ve never had a greater privilege than imparting this “news” to him, stammering in surprise, “Yes...as a matter of fact he is!”

Yet the wonder of knowing that Jesus will return is not a part of my daily life. Occasionally it will wash over me at church when we proclaim, “Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ WILL come again!” Sometimes it tingles through me when I notice a dramatic skyscape or listen to glorious organ music. But I want to get in the habit of at least glancing out my east window, habitually expecting the imminent return of Christ. When I make my plans, I should mentally or vocally note that Christ may return before I accomplish them. The expectancy of Christ’s return puts our life and problems into perspective, and if we watch and pray for it we will become more mindful of how we use the days we have left.

There is another way we can watch for the coming of Christ. Jesus taught in Matthew 25 that after he returns, he will say to those who are entering his kingdom, “I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me” (Matthew 25:36, NIV). One day when he returns, we will meet Jesus in his glory. But today we will meet him in the person of someone who is needy. Although we don’t know the day or the hour of his second advent, we do know that every time we encounter someone whom the world considers “the least of these,” we have encountered Jesus (Matthew 25:40). Ironically, the two stories that reminded me of the wonder of Christ’s coming were encounters with children and with one who was in need. May every encounter with those who seem the least be an opportunity to remember Christ’s coming, to honor him by honoring them.

__________

Copyright © 2004 Ravi Zacharias International Ministries (RZIM). Reprinted with permission. "A Slice of Infinity" is a radio ministry of Ravi Zacharias International Ministries.

*

[Original illustration here was a duplicate in HolwickID 25837-26027]

On a hot August day Buena finally went to the doctor. There she discovered that the great stomach that she carried around was not stomach at all. It was cancer. “We're sorry,” said the doctor, “but it appears that because the cancer has progressed to the point that it has, surgery is out of the question. There will be some medication that will help in the short term, but there is little that can be done, medically, over the long haul.”

“What ya be sayin'?” she asked.

The doctor cleared his throat. “You have about six weeks to live.”

A few weeks after seeing the doctor that day, she became bed-ridden, but she lived more than six months longer. When people visited her, they would have to wait until she could get her wig on, but would often find her in good humor with Bible and Maxwell House coffee can near her bed. The coffee can was her spittoon. You see Buena had chewed tobacco all her life. She loved to be visited, and always asked about the church. When none of her family was watching, she would often slip a couple of twenty dollar bills to her visitor and say, “This be my offerin'. Be sure to tell the preacher, that I'mma tithing my Bingo winnings.”

When Christmas came, the congregation sponsored a toy sale, made up two hundred Christmas baskets for the hungry, and a special holiday meal for the homeless. After a potluck meal, the church family gathered around the piano and began to sing Christmas carols. There were homeless men singing next to students and elderly women. Whites stood with their arms around blacks. Wealthy people hugged the poor. The dividing walls of hostility didn’t exist on this day.

After much singing, Claude suggested that we walk over to Buena's house and sing her some Christmas carols. Everyone thought this an excellent suggestion, so the entire church marched down the block and around the comer to where she lived. We knocked and waited for Buena to put her wig on. Then we were allowed in.

The group of twenty or so crowded around the bed. Buena was obviously pleased that so many had come. She tried, of course, not to show it. We sang a few songs and Buena sang along. Claude asked, “Buena, what is your favorite? Let us sing it for you.”

With no hesitation she responded, “Silent Night.”

We began to sing. “Silent Night, Holy Night...” And it was. It was a clear, cold evening with a star-filled sky. We all felt good about how we were spending it. Suddenly, however, with the church family gathered around Buena's bed, tears began to roll down her face. Then tears began to stream down the faces of the visitors. Our church, which many considered a dying church, was singing carols to a dying lady. The carol took on new meaning as the tiny congregation sang to Buena. “Sleep in heavenly peace, sleep in heavenly peace....”

The fellowship of believers filed out of her bedroom one by one. Some hugged her good-bye. Others kissed her tobacco-stained mouth. Down the frozen sidewalks that led back to the building that is called the church, no one said a word.[VI]

____________

Michael Elliott, THE SOCIETY OF SALTY SAINTS, Meyer Stone Books, Oak Park, IL, 1987, pp. 23-24.

When it comes to ministering to the intellectually disabled, who is ministering to whom?

In March, the Templeton Foundation announced that this year’s winner of the Templeton Prize is philosopher Jean Vanier. The Templeton Prize is given to those who make an “exceptional contribution to affirming life’s spiritual dimension, whether through insight, discovery, or practical works.”

Vanier joins the likes of Mother Theresa, physicist-turned-theologian John Polkinghorne and, yes, Chuck Colson, as Templeton Laureates.

It’s hard to imagine a more deserving recipient than Vanier.

After serving in the British Royal Navy during World War II, Vanier felt called to study philosophy and became a Catholic lay leader.

In 1964, through his friend, Father Thomas Phillippe, Vanier “became aware of the plight of thousands of people institutionalized with developmental disabilities.”

Vanier invited two institutionalized men to come and live with him in Trosly-Breuil, France. This invitation became the start of a worldwide federation of communities that came to be called L’Arche, which is French for “The Ark.”

Today there are 147 of these communities in 35 countries on 5 continents. All of them subscribe to a “Statement of Identity and Mission” which states: “We are people, with and without developmental disabilities, sharing life in communities ... Mutual relationships and trust in God are at the heart of our journey together. We celebrate the unique value of every person and recognize our need of one another.”

Please note that the relationship between the non-disabled and the disabled is not that of caretaker to those being taken care of. Instead, it’s that of shared lives and journeys. For that to happen, the nondisabled must believe that the disabled have something to offer in return.

What is that “something?” A fuller understanding of what it means to be human.

Historically, Vanier tells us, “the value of human beings resided so often in their qualities of strength, of competence, of efficiency and of knowledge ... It was power and competence that defined the identity of someone.”

Obviously, “people with intellectual disabilities are not able to assume important roles of power and of efficacy.” So their identity and value comes from something else. What Vanier and L’Arche have discovered is the intellectually disabled are “essentially people of the heart. When they meet others they do not have a hidden agenda for power or for success.”

Of course, we’re all called to be “people of the heart.” As Vanier puts it, “At the heart of who you are, you’re someone also crying out, ‘Does somebody love me?’ not just for what I can do, but for who I am.”

The intellectually-disabled don’t pretend otherwise. That’s their gift to us. They remind us that the Kingdom does not belong to the powerful and efficacious — it belongs, as Jesus told us, to those who are like little children — vulnerable, dependent, and open to the gifts that God has in store for those who don’t pretend otherwise.

L’Arche is, to borrow a phrase from Luke’s gospel, a “sign of contradiction.” It’s a reminder that the world is oh-so-very-wrong about the source of human dignity and worth. It’s a reminder that when God intervened decisively in human history, he took on our frailty, not our pretense to omnipotence.

After watching Vanier talk about what it means to be human, Rod Dreher described Vanier as “luminous” and added, “I don’t know that I’ve ever seen anyone who looks so sure of himself, but also so vulnerable, so open, so humble, so illimitably kind.”

Vanier would tell us that it’s a function of the company he keeps, Jesus and his very special and beautifully human brethren.

________

Copyright (c) 2015 Prison Fellowship Ministries. Reprinted with permission. "BreakPoint" is a radio ministry of Prison Fellowship Ministries.

You have probably never heard of Lothar Kreyssig - I hadn’t until recently. Yet, after hearing his story, I realized Kreyssig was a hero for our times: a man whom, at almost unbelievable risk, stood up for the sanctity of human life. [See a similar story at HolwickID #63002]

In October, 1939, the Third Reich created what came to be known as the “Action T4” program. In furtherance of what the Nazis called “racial hygiene,” Reich bureaucrats, working with doctors, were authorized to identify and kill those deemed to be “unworthy of life,” that is, institutionalized patients with “severe disabilities.”

Of course, expressions like “unworthy” and even “severe” are subjective. In reality, they were a license for mass murder. Hitler called for at least 70,000 people to be killed under this program, so doctors and officials set about meeting the Fuhrer’s quotas.

Fearing domestic and international reaction, the Nazis tried to hide what was going on: they lied to patients’ families and, fore-shadowing Auschwitz, they disguised the gas chambers as showers.

When I think of what happened to those people, especially the children - some like my autistic grandson, Max - it breaks my heart - horrifies me.

The Nazis also took pains to provide a patina of legality to the murders: Hitler personally ordered German judges not to prosecute doctors for killing their patients. And that’s where Kreyssig comes in: He was a highly regarded judge in his native Saxony.

But he was more than a judge - Kreyssig was a leader in the Confessing Church, which resisted the Reich’s efforts to “Nazify” protestant churches. To be a Confessing Churchman, never mind a leader, was to live with a bull’s-eye painted on your back.

As more and more death certificates for mentally ill people crossed his desk, Kreyssig realized that something terrible was happening.

He wrote the Reich Minister of Justice protesting not only the Action T4 program but also the treatment of prisoners in concentration camps. He then charged a doctor with murder in connection with the deaths of his patients.

When he was called into the Minister’s office, where he was told that Hitler himself had authorized the program. To which Kreyssig replied: “The Führer’s word does not create a right.”

The courage to say that to a government official in Nazi Germany was extraordinary. Kreyssig was forced to retire. Although the Gestapo tried to get him sent to a concentration camp, fears over drawing attention to the T4 program probably saved Kreyssig’s life.

He spent the rest of the war at home tending to his farm and, oh yes, hiding Jews on his property.

The only judge to stand up to the Nazis outlived the “1000-year Reich” by forty-one years. Twenty years after his death, Germany held a memorial honoring his bravery and compassion.

In a culture where “go along to get along” was literally a survival strategy, Kreyssig refused to be silent. When the majority of German Potestants adapted the faith to the demands of the Reich, he refused to go along and made it clear that there was a higher law.

Thankfully, defending the sanctity of life nowadays doesn’t require anything like Kreyssig’s courage. But it does require courage. And it requires, as well, as an understanding of Whose Word does create a right.

________

Copyright (c) 2011 Prison Fellowship Ministries. Reprinted with permission. "BreakPoint with Chuck Colson" is a radio ministry of Prison Fellowship Ministries.

The words “justice” and “social justice” have long drawn the ire of segments of American Christianity, particularly white evangelical leaders. They have consistently said that it is unbiblical, un-Christian, and yes, un-American.

Baptist News Global reported on May 18, 2018, that this sentiment may be coming to the floor of the Southern Baptist Convention this summer in the form of a resolution drafted by Pastor Grady Arnold of Calvary Baptist Church in Cuero, Texas.

Arnold’s resolution cites political commentator Glenn Beck who said on his radio show in 2010 that Christians who find the words “social justice” in their church’s literature or teaching should “run as fast as they can” from that church and find a new one. (It is worth noting that Beck has since apologized for how he “helped tear the country apart”).

The rhetoric from this camp has not been subtle. Arnold’s resolution bluntly says that “social justice and Christian ethics are clearly antithetical to each other.” Richard Land, who once led the Christian Life Commission, said that social justice was an idea “hatched in hell.”

Although none of this is new, it never ceases to amaze me how those among us who call themselves “Bible-believing” and claim to have the highest and most literal reading of scripture can so unabashedly dismiss a subject that is among the Bible’s most mentioned, and that Jesus explicitly affirmed.

In Jesus’ long list of woes against the Pharisees and teachers of the law (Matthew 23:13-36), he rebukes them for neglecting “the weightier matters of the law: justice, mercy and faithfulness” (v.23). There it is; first in a list of the top 3. Jesus was essentially quoting Micah 6:8 in which the prophet says that what the Lord requires of us is to “do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God.”

In the Old Testament alone, “justice” is mentioned hundreds of times in reference to the systemic oppression of vulnerable populations at the hands of the rich and powerful. Here is a very small sampling:

“Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow.” (Isaiah 1:17)

“Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free...” (Isaiah 58:6)

“This is what the Lord says: Do what is right and just. Rescue from the hand of the oppressor the one who has been robbed. Do no wrong or violence to the foreigner, the fatherless or the widow, and do not shed innocent blood in this place.” (Jeremiah 22:3)

“Woe to him who builds his palace by unrighteousness, his upper rooms by injustice, making his own people work for nothing, not paying them for their labor.” (Jeremiah 22:13)

“There are those who oppress the innocent and take bribes and deprive the poor of justice in the courts ... But let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream!” (Amos 5:12, 24)

What you should see in these passages is not just a clear concern for vulnerable populations, but also that they are identifying large scale, systemic issues that are not possible to address by way of mission trips, church service projects, or benevolence. These verses and many others mention things like wages, taxes, greed among the rich, and bribery.

Evangelicals who rail against the idea of justice do not deny that the Bible commands Christians to care for the poor and needy, but they seek to make a distinction, saying that individuals and churches are supposed to help the poor and needy, but not try to do so through political processes nor demand that the government do so. This ignores the context of these Bible passages and the problems they mention. How can injustices caused (and maintained) by political forces be remedied by individuals and churches?

If Congress passes a law that makes health insurance unaffordable for millions of additional Americans, compassionate churches trying to pay a few medical bills or run a clinic drain their resources while leaving the root cause of the problem in place. If our president halts refugee resettlement programs and cancels protected status for certain immigrants, it’s virtually meaningless to talk about helping them since they won’t even be here to help. If your city or county is focusing all its resources and energy on the middle to upper class parts of town and neglecting the poor section, your casserole or clean up project is almost insulting.

Proverbs 31:8-9 calls us to “defend the rights of the poor and needy.” How are we supposed to do that without engaging those who are taking those rights away? A bucket of water doesn’t do much for a house that’s on fire.

Modern faith leaders’ opposition to justice can be traced to some sinister roots in the 1930s. Justice was more commonly preached in American pulpits in those days as the corporate power structure had lost clout with the people because of the 1929 stock market crash. The corporations hated the New Deal, but they were going to need some help in getting Christian America back on board with their agenda. Princeton history professor Kevin M. Kruse says that they found that help in Los Angeles-based Congregationalist pastor James W. Fifield, Jr., who started a movement called “Spiritual Mobilization.” His main sponsors were Sun Oil President J. Howard Pew, Alfred Sloan of General Motors, the heads of the U.S. Chamber of Commerce, etc.

Using a version of the prosperity gospel, Fifield engaged in a successful campaign to bring tens of thousands of preachers around to the idea that government protections of workers and consumers were antithetical to Christianity. He even sent cash prizes to ministers who won “sermon contests” by obediently preaching their desired message. The business magnates desperately needed Christians to keep their love stuff confined to compassionate handouts rather than the Bible’s message of justice. Some 80 years later, their successors are still reaping the rewards.

I don’t see how it’s possible to love my neighbor without justice. This is my call to the Church to put more weight on the “weightier matters,” and follow the One who said that he was anointed to “proclaim good news to the poor ... proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to set the oppressed free” (Luke 4:18).