Do you know I’ve heard that said as if it were a promise? that I’ve heard people building their entire philosophy of giving over that verse?
“Jesus said we’d never solve the problem of poverty.”
“I mean, there’s only so much we can do, Jesus said we’d always have the poor among us.”
“It’s OK that I travel and live the good life. That I have all these things. Jesus said we’d always have the poor among us. So, my sacrificing these things isn’t going to put an end to having poor people.”
These are real things I’ve heard real people say. Really.
And now I’d like to say: Stop. Stop and think about what you’re saying. About what you’re doing.
Did Jesus really say that phrase as a promise? “I promise you, friends, poverty will never be wiped from the earth. Those poor aren’t going anywhere anyway. It’s all part of my plan: to keep some people poor.” And did he then imply the corollary? “So, relax about all your luxuries. Live it up!”
Um. Given the full scope of Scripture? I’m inclined to say No. That was not his point. And that was not his intended implication. We don’t have to go very far to find a glaring contrast—from Jesus himself!—to this sentiment. One chapter earlier, really just a few verses earlier, Matthew 25: 41-46, Jesus himself describes the time “when the Son of Man comes in his glory,” sits on his throne, and stands in judgment of all the nations who are gathered before him:
“Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not clothe me, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.’ Then they also will answer, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not minister to you?’ Then he will answer them, saying, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.’ And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.”
I don’t know about you, but that passage scares the pants off me. In fact, perhaps it should scare the pants right off me and onto someone else who has no pants but is in need of some. I look around my house full—FULL! Cluttered, even!—of luxuries. Books. Enough clothes for everyone to be dressed for seven days without washing anything. Books. Toys. Oh-so-many TOYS! Food. Oh, glorious, glorious food: the remains of several animals in my freezer, fresh fruits on my counter, milk, cheese eggs, rice, flour, sugar . . . you get the picture. Blankets and heating oil and! Fresh water! Right there! With the flip of a lever! And (did I mention?) books!
I want for absolutely nothing. Nothing. And I have so much crap, I wish someone would come and steal 95% of it. Imagine! I live in a culture where having too much stuff is not only an option, but also a complaint!
Really? This is right? And good? And as God intended? I have a hard time swallowing that pill in light of the passage from Matthew I just copied out. It would be much, much easier for me to quickly read down a handful of lines and hear Jesus’s reassuring words: “You always have the poor with you.” Whew! I’ll always have the poor with me, so there’s no point in selling all I possess and giving the proceeds to them. What kind of crazy nut would expect me to do that?!
Oh. crap.
hmmmmmm . . .
There seems to be a bit of a conflict here . . . a conundrum if you will. Scripture must be contradicting itself. Surely that’s it. Except only I don’t believe that’s possible. . . . Well, it’s Paul, so I don’t really have to worry about what it says . . . oh. wait. It’s not Paul. It’s Jesus. On both counts. So, I can’t use that trick . . .
I’m just going to have to go ahead and consider the two verses in light of the entire witness of Scripture. Like a good little Reformed girl ought. I should stop for a minute and count up in just how many verses the Bible champions the plight of the poor, the oppressed, the widows, the orphans, the imprisoned (oh, no. I’m not even going to go there today!). How often Israel is punished for neglecting the needs of the poor, the oppressed, the widows, and the orphans. To say nothing of passages about debt forgiveness and lavish grace.
But you know what? I don’t even have to go there. I can just read the rest of Jesus’s sentence. (Go figure!)
“For you always have the poor with you, but you will not always have me.”
He’s not making a promise. He’s not making a promise with a orollary for life application. He’s stating a simple fact. To real people. Gathered in his presence under difficult, difficult circumstances. The Man is about to undergo torture and agony. He’s about to have his body ripped apart, his lungs crushed, leaving him broken, humiliated, and experiencing abandonment the likes of which we could never, ever imagine. And he’s saying to a woman who is coming to him with her lavish gift, her lavish love, her lavish devotion: Yes. Please. Love me. Comfort me. Serve me. I’m only going to be here for a little while longer. One jar of perfume ain’t gonna break the bank. Yes. Bring me your best. Offer it to me. Lay it at my feet. Give to me lavishly. Joe who sleeps on the corner is still going to be there tomorrow, but I’m not.
And how do I know he’s not talking in more general, more figurative terms? Because here he says, “You will not always have me.” And when I flip just two pages in my Bible, I read Jesus say,
“Behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”
And that much I know is true.
Perhaps this whole “You will always have the poor with you” line must always be connected to, “but you will not always have me.” And, perhaps we should live as if the entire sentence is true. The implications of which, as I see it, give us two options:
1. We will not always have Jesus because we have passed by someone who was hungry, thirsty, a stranger (at Coffee Hour, perhaps?), naked, or sick in prison, so we will be sent away into eternal punishment.
2. We will always have Jesus with us, and, perhaps, in the form of hungry, thirsty, strange, naked, sick and imprisoned folk, and we had best love on him as lavishly as we possibly can, with the best of the best of what we have, with our very last penny if need be.
