Justice

There's been a lot of talk lately about justice. It's an interesting concept, isn't it? The trouble I think I'm having with all of this, and I've reserved comment for good reason, is that I don't think man truly has a concept of justice. Not between men.

What is justice?

If you look at the world around you today, you might be tempted to think that justice is anger leading to shame, or that justice is hate leading to fear. These are the ways we do it down here. We get furious and demand "justice," but that justice is not just; it's vengeful. We don't want what justice is; we want what we want. We want an indictment. We want guilt. We want a man to feel sorry for what he's done. We hate the fallen man. We absolutely hate him for his injustice, and we want him to feel the same fear we do. We want him to know what it's like to be in a world that isn't just, so our justice still isn't justice; it's a return of injustice. It is us dishing out what we feel we've received. An eye for an eye, or so they say. An injustice for an injustice. 

But two wrongs never make a right.

When we do justice, it's about taking a fallen man and putting our foot on him. It's about keeping him down. It's about resisting his efforts to raise himself back up. It's about making sure he always knows what a lesser man he is. That's not justice. Do you know how you know? Because it has no chance of restoring a man. 

God has never intended to hold a man down. He calls us to build a man up.

Still, what about when a man does wrong? How does the fallen man face justice? What even is justice?

Justice is letting a man see how far he's fallen. It's showing him his own cracks. It's holding him accountable not to the standards of other men, but to the standards of the man that he is, the man that God created him to be. Justice was never meant to induce shame or guilt or fear; it was meant to break a man's heart as he looks in a mirror and sees truly himself and knows this is not what he was meant to be. 

A man, when he knows he's fallen short, will feel shame and guilt, sure, and if that's what you're after, this works there, too. But it is the broken-heartedness that will lead him to be a better man. It is his realization of the measure of all he is not, when he knows in his heart that he ought to be, that will lead him to be more of that man. It's knowing how far he's fallen, feeling the distance he's put between himself and himself, between himself and his God, between himself and his community that will drive him to better things. 

And how do we get there? It's hard, but it's not through hate. It's not through anger. You can't be mad at a man and speak truth to his heart. You can't hate him and love him at the same time. Injustice has been done. It's done every day in this world. The godly look at injustice the same from both sides - with broken-heartedness. They look at injustice as falling short of the standard. They look at injustice as a break of the sacred contract, that a man would be God's and would do God's work. They look at injustice and they instantly know how far a man has fallen. How far the unjust man has fallen, and how the target of his injustice is now fallen, as well. They look at both the victim and the accused the same way, knowing how so much more each was meant to be. And the godly are broken-hearted.

It's hard in a world like this one, a world where not everyone would say that God has anything to do with it. But God has everything to do with it. God is just. As such, He knows a thing or two about justice. And God's justice for us is just this - that a fallen man gets to sit in his fallenness. That he gets to feel the distance he's created in his life. That he gets to know how much less of a man he is. And that he gets to decide what to do with that. God doesn't put His foot on the fallen man's head; He doesn't hold a man down. He instead holds out His hand, ready to help a man up. 

It takes a godly man to respond like this, but this is how we must answer. There's no room in justice for our hate or our anger. There's no room in justice for shame or fear. Beating a man down is not justice. Keeping him there is not justice. Letting him feel the distance he's just created in his life, revealing his fallen nature and his heart for more, responding to him in broken-heartedness until his heart begins to break, too...that's justice. Letting him feel the distance he's created for the man who is the target of his injustice, showing him how much he's taken away from that man, teaching the accused heart to break for the hurt...that's justice. And holding out your hand to help him stand, well...that's not justice.

That's grace. 

And in God's answer to a broken world, there must be both.

Give Good Gifts

So what does it mean in the Christmas season to give good gifts, particularly in the context of poverty?

There's been a bit of a shift in our culture, and it's for the better, regarding this. It used to be that loving, well-meaning, good people would show up on the poor's doorstep with an armful of food and presents on Christmas morning and proceed to give the poverty-stricken a "good" Christmas. And while there's not a lot wrong with that, there is one thing severely wrong with that: it takes the poor man out of it. 

Say that the poor man has children, and say that his children see the do-gooders bring Christmas. Say that his children see the tears in his eyes. Those are tears of thankfulness, yes, but also tears of brokenness because the well-meaning have just put the final nail in the coffin: the poor man can't even give good gifts. He can't even make Christmas for his own children. And in the face of all this charity, everyone knows it - the poor man, his children, and the well-meaning. This becomes the dominant message of his Christmas, that he is a lesser man. 

Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la?

The shift that's been taking place, and it begins to include dignity in the Christmas gift, is that more and more charities and well-meaning persons are creating a way whereby the poor man gets to pick out his children's gifts. He gets to take them home in his own arms. He gets to set them out Christmas morning. And his kids get to look at him with joy in their eyes. 

He gets to walk through the food pantry and pick his own Christmas meal. He gets to carry bags of groceries into his house from his own arms. He gets to put cans and boxes in the pantry, gets to put milk and eggs in the fridge. He gets to set the table. And his kids get to look at him with full bellies and fuller smiles. 

That's what Christmas is about for the poor man. It's not about giving him the chance to have something; it's about giving him the chance to be something. It's about giving him the chance not to receive good gifts, but to give them. It's about giving him the chance to do for himself by the kindness of others. It gives him the chance to think more of himself. 

That's the miracle Christ was talking about when He talks about the miracle of the poor. Those who were once kept at a distance by circumstance are drawn right into the very thick of things. Not by charity. No, anyone can give charity. This is more meaningful. They are drawn into the very thick of things by dignity. They are given back to themselves for the chance to give themselves into a bigger story, a story that no longer exists apart from them but instead has set aside a part for them. A role that only they can play. 

And that's what Jesus does for him. He doesn't simply give the poor man Christmas; He doesn't give a man a chance to hold, for the briefest of moments, the Good News. He gives a man a reason to believe in Christmas; the Good News is his to keep. By the grace of God, in the shadow of the Good News, a poor man finds himself able. He can. He is. He is more than he ever was, even though he's the same as he's always been. 

As we think about the gifts that we give this season, particularly the ones we give to the poor man, we have to think about such things. How are we giving the gift? Are we giving him a gift that makes him, and everyone around him, focus on his brokenness? Or are we giving him a gift that enables him to be more of a man, even though he's the same as he's always been? 

Secret: Give a good gift, and the poor man is never the same as he's always been. Give him a reason to think he might be more, and he will be. Give him one fleeting experience of being able and he'll start to wonder what he's capable of. Give him back to himself and you give him a chance to give of himself. 

I love that we're starting to get this right in our world. I love that we're starting to give less charity and more dignity. I love that the more we think about the miracle of Christmas, the less we're willing to let a man simply hold it for a day. The more we think about the miracle of Christmas, the more concerned we are with giving a man something to believe in. 

Himself. As a fearfully and wonderfully made child of God and an irreplaceable character in His story.

The Problem of Poverty

Jesus counts it among His miracles that the poor are hearing the Good News (see the past two posts if you haven't been following along). What's interesting to note is that Jesus counts the Good News to the poor in the same breath that He counts sight to the blind, sound to the deaf, life to the dead. If we take these words of Jesus, the Good News is just what the poor needed.

We, far too often, have a very different idea.

Particularly at this time of year, we're more aware of poverty in our communities than at any other time on the calendar. We're bombarded by need, by requests for donations. Red kettles and tiny bells dot our landscapes, along with countless other charities asking us to help make life possible for those who have so little. We cannot escape the stories of those for whom there will be no Christmas this year. So we dig in our wallets and try to make Christmas happen.

We give money, as much money as it takes to appease our guilt. We give of our own financial resources to support those who do not have them, and we think that this is going to solve the problem of poverty. In our minds that think according to the world, money is the solution to poverty. Having more is the answer to having less. Giving something significant this season means putting something under the tree of every home, even if that means we have to provide the tree, too. If a man wakes up on Christmas morning and his child has a new bicycle and his wife has a new purse and there's food on the table, then we have done it. We have made a dent in poverty.

...for maybe a day. 

Jesus says that more is not the answer to less. He says that money won't fix poverty. He says that the miracle of the poor on Christmas morning is not that there is a present under the tree; it's that there is a Christmas at all. The poor have to know that there is a bigger story, and that there's room in it for them, too.

You see, poverty is not an affliction of having too little. If it were, it should be simple to fix. There is more than enough in this world for everyone, if only we had the means to appropriately distribute it. But having more does not address poverty. Poverty is a spiritual condition. It's an affliction, primarily, of exclusion.

Poverty is a trouble that keeps a man from being connected to his world. It keeps him from being able to do the things that "normal" people get to do. It keeps him, as we've seen, from being able to go to the Temple and hear the Word. It keeps him from being able to study it like all the other boys. It keeps him from the places and things that are so common to most of us because he can't afford either the time or the money to be there. The poor man looks at this world as a luxury and wonders if he'll ever be able to obtain a place in it. He sees what is happening all around him, but he doesn't feel a part of it.

It's not just that there are no presents under his tree on Christmas morning; it's that he lives in a world where he must look at everyone else's trees. Where he can't escape the spirit of Christmas even when there are no means for it in his own house. It's not just that there is no food on his table; it's that he stands every day running his cash register and watching everyone else fill their tables to overflowing. It's not just that his child doesn't have a bicycle; he has to watch his child watch all the other children ride their bikes around the neighborhood. It's not that his wife does not have a purse; it's that, painfully, she has no need of one because there's nothing to put in it, nothing valuable for her to carry with her, no money for her wallet. Poverty is not just about what a man does not have; it's about what a man lives so close to and yet, so far from. It's about a man who has to watch his world live and wonder when he'll get the chance to be a part of it.

We don't solve that kind of problem with money. We can't. 

Money is temporary. We give, and for a day, a man has a place at the table. But what happens tomorrow? What happens when the gift of money runs out and the man is once again alone in his poverty? Have we given him anything at all? Not really. A place at the table is no gift at all when it is only a measure of financial generosity. That a man can, for one day, provide a meal is no answer. You can temporarily raise his status and put him in the story he's watching, but that won't help his poverty.

What he needs is a place at the table. Period. He needs an invitation to a bigger story. He needs the Truth about who he is, and that is so much more than what he has. He needs to understand that there is a place for him in this world, a way for him to be a part of things, a story that cannot be told without him. Just as he is. Imagine the story of Jesus without the narrative of the poor. You can't. It's not possible to tell this story without that one. It's not possible to show the character of Christ without all the other characters He interacts with in the Gospels. You can't talk about what it means to give without talking about the widow who gave all she had - two cents. Two measly little cents. You can't talk about devotion without talking about the woman who poured out upon his feet the one valuable thing in all her possession. One bottle of perfume that was likely worth more than anything else in her house. Or everything else in her house. It was the kind of thing a family would save up for for their daughter, such an important part of the courting and marriage ritual, and she poured it out. You can't talk about leftovers unless you start with a little boy's lunch. 

You can't talk about a Savior unless you talk about a stable. You can't talk about the Lord's anointed unless you talk about the offering of birds that accompanied Him on day eight. Birds. Because Joseph and Mary can't afford a "real" sacrifice. You can't talk about a Teacher unless you talk about a man with no place to lay His head. 

The story of Christ is the story of the poor man. And when He's dishing out miracles to the blind and the deaf and the lame and the dead, He gives one to the poor, too...and it's not money. Money is not what the poor man needs. It's an invitation to something bigger, a way to be in this world, a line in the story, a place at the table. Christ answers poverty not with charity, but with dignity. To a man who has always been on the outside, He offers a way in. That's the miracle of the poor. 

We ought to be mindful of that the next time we drop a few coins in the kettle. What are we really giving the poor man for Christmas? We ought to be giving him Christ. 

Who Sinned?

Considering that Jesus counts it a miracle that the poor are hearing the Good News, we need to stop and consider what we think about poverty in our world. I think we've come to a point in our world where, like the Pharisee, we look at the poor man and immediately question, "Who sinned?"

What went wrong to bring a man to this place? What did this poor man do to cause his own poverty? What is he continuing to do? Or what is he not doing that might get him out of this predicament? If he works harder...or longer hours...or goes back to school...or finds a better job....or stops drinking...or stops smoking...or stops having children....or....the list goes on. We cringe when we hear this question being asked about the blind man; blindness is not necessarily caused by sin. Yet we willingly, and boldly, and insensitively ask this same question when it comes to the poor man.

Let's make this clear: poverty is not a sin. Nor is it, necessarily, the result of sin.

Man was not created to be fulfilled by this world, so it's not a sin when he finds that he is still in need. Yes, he may make poor choices. He may make poor investments. He may make poor decisions. And this can lead a man to be poor. But for millions of persons around the world, including right here in America, poverty is not the result of poor choices, poor investments, or poor choices. Poverty is a reality of a fallen world.

Poverty is more than being broke; it is a brokenness. It is an infirmity. It is a disability. And more often than not, poverty simply happens to man.

When we start to think about poverty in our world, we have to start with this brokenness. We look at the blind man and are troubled by his brokenness; and thankful for our sight. We look at the deaf man and are sensitive to his trouble, with a new sensitivity to the noises in our own world. We look at the lame man and feel empathy for him. We look at the blind, the lame, the broken, the bleeding, the infirm, the disabled, the cursed...and we're broken-hearted. We look at the child born with Down's Syndrome or some other genetic deformity and something inside of us breaks. It just breaks. How, God? How could this even be possible in a world like this? How, God? And Why?

We need to have the same reaction when we see poverty among us. We need to have the same broken-heartedness when we see a man whose infirmity is his emptiness. We need to look at the people who are doing all they can in the world and still don't have enough. We need to look at the people who could do more and still don't have enough. We need to look at people who don't have enough in this world, and we need to weep with them.

And we need to realize that the answer to this poverty is not that a man work harder and fill himself. No. We would never tell a blind man simply to open his eyes and see. We would not scream at a deaf man until he hears. We would not rip the crutches away from the lame and demand that they walk. We would not stand at the grave and force a dead man to live. We cannot stand on the edges of poverty and tell a man he must simply make more of himself. No. This is the crucible in which a miracle is formed. This is the place in which the power of Christ works.

Because of their great need, there is in the poor the potential for a miracle. There is a work that only God can do amidst poverty. And we must take poverty to Jesus and let Him do it. We must lead a poor man to Christ and beg for His mercy. Because there's something special about poverty. Something very special. It's why God counts the poor among the miracles.

More tomorrow on how we can truly begin to address poverty in our communities, and in our world.

Miracle of the Poor

There's an interesting list in Luke 7, in a story where John's disciples come to Jesus to ask whether He is the Messiah. Jesus answers by telling them what He is doing among the people, leaving the question for them to answer. And He lists a series of what we would call miracles, but have you ever paid attention to this list?

Jesus answered John's disciples, 'Go back, and tell John what you have seen and heard: Blind people see again, lame people are walking, those with skin diseases are made clean, deaf people hear again, dead people are brought back to life, and poor people hear the Good News.' (22)

One of these things, on the surface, is not like the others. There is no earthly reason for a blind man to see, for a lame man to walk, for a leper to be clean, for a deaf man to hear, for a dead man to live. These things are contrary to the law of nature; they are miracles. But the poor? In a list of the miraculous, Jesus includes that the poor are hearing the Good News. 

I have to be honest: I never would have considered poverty the petri dish for a miracle.

Which is not to say that I don't think God does some incredible things through poverty; I'm living proof that He does. I'm one of those people who lives my life on "just enough" and "barely that," and yet, I find myself primarily without need. God continues to show up and provide when it doesn't seem there is a way for such provision to be possible. God works in poverty to demonstrate His abundance. And if that were the gist of this passage, I think I could almost just nod along and agree with this list of miracles.

But that's not what Jesus is pointing to here. Jesus does not say, The poor are made rich. He does not say, Those with little live in abundance. No. What Jesus says is, the poor are hearing the Good News.

So we need to take some time to figure out what He really means by this, why the poor are counted among the blind, the lame, the deaf. The dead. We start at the logical beginning, by understanding what the miracle implies that the poor could not do. The blind could not see. The deaf could not hear. The lame could not walk. So the poor...could not hear the Good News. Why not?

I fear it is a matter of access and academics.

The poor had a harder time making their way into the temples or synagogues. For a couple of reasons. First, they were poor - they had to spend their days in pursuit of provision. They had to spend their days working as hard as they could to make as little as they had, or begging for what little they had. They didn't have a lot of time for the temple, even if they understood how important it is.

And those that had the time did not have the means. There were a lot of laws about sacrifices and ritual purity in those times, and coming to the temple required a sacrifice. It required a gift. If you don't have the money to put porridge on your stove, how do you find the change to buy a couple of pigeons for God? If you can afford the pigeons as a poor man (and remember - birds were the poor man's sacrifice), you're more likely to eat them. Those are just the facts. That's what poverty does to a man. So his lack of resources keeps him at a distance. He cannot afford to go to the temple. He cannot afford to hear the Scriptures. He cannot afford to take part in the feasts and the festivals. Because of his poverty, the doors are closed to him. 

Beyond that, there was a certain expectation that a good Jewish boy would enter a program of study in the Scriptures, through the temple. He would attend classes and learn the writings. He would memorize and rehearse the words of the prophets. He would learn to read them aloud, to interpret them, to make sense of the story of God. Here again is a luxury that a poor Jewish boy, despite how good he might be, would not have. In poverty, he would need to work. He would need to labor. He might even be sold as a slave until the Jubilee. He has no access to the academy; he doesn't get to learn the Scriptures with the other boys. His life has an entirely different expectation - one that centers around basic needs, not basic Hebrew. 

It's therefore quite accurate to say that the poor could not hear the Good News. There simply wasn't a way.

Which is why it is listed among the miracles that they do. It's a miracle because it's outside the law of nature. It's outside of the way things generally function. Jesus created a way for the poor to come to Him without sacrifice, without offering...without cost. Jesus created a way for them to listen and to learn the story of God. Jesus created a way for the poor man to stand among the blind and receive the same improbable story, the Good News that what was once impossible is no longer. What was once unlikely has become real. What was once meant for everybody else is now meant for everybody. Period. 

Those for whom there is no earthly possibility to see are seeing. Those for whom there is no earthly possibility to walk are walking. Those for whom there is no earthly possibility to hear are hearing. And those for whom there is no earthly possibility to know are knowing. They are knowing the Good News of Christ. 

And that is miraculous.

More on what this means for us tomorrow.