Power of Prayer

I hope that by this point, it's clear that I'm not talking about some Christian notion of "praying away" anything, as though all we should do for our brothers and sisters is to pray for them or teach them to pray and all their troubles, worries, and problems will be solved somehow. I'm talking about a real, living faith that brings them into a meaningful encounter with the person of Jesus, who touches them, speaks to them, hears them, and loves them...often through our hands, mouths, ears, and hearts. 

But let's talk about prayer for a moment anyway. I think this is important. 

Because I cannot tell you the number of times that I have suggested this kind of real, living faith that encounters Jesus in the midst of struggle and Christians have looked right back at me with no small amount of indignation and claimed, "I'm talking about a legitimate problem, and you want to pray?"

Uh, yeah, I want to pray. Among other things that require me becoming the hands and feet of Jesus for you, I want to pray. Why wouldn't I?

It makes me wonder what Christians think about prayer these days. I think that mostly, Christians think about prayer as something we do because we're Christians. We pray because God expects us to pray, the same way we read our Bibles in the morning because God expects us to read His Word. We do it because we don't want to feel guilty for not doing it, but we don't really believe it does much for us. We don't really believe it's important except to stave off the disappointment of God. 

(And by the way, did you know that the #1 thing persons believe about God, even Christians, is that God is disappointed in them? Heartbreaking.)

Our world is full of so many answers, so many programs, so many solutions, so many things that have weight and depth and density to them, that we can touch and feel and smell and hear and know. Jesus...just seems impractical, even to the faithful among us. Prayer...just seems like a waste of precious air. 

I don't know how we solve this problem. I really don't. I can tell you that my Jesus has weight and depth and density to Him. I can tell you that I can touch and feel and smell and hear and know Him. I can say that with the absolute authenticity of all of my being, but I know it won't do any good. Because even in Christian circles today, that makes me a nut job. That makes me fanatical. That makes me one of those people. 

And even Christians are so deathly afraid of becoming those people - those people who actually believe in the God they profess to worship, who take Him at His Word, who live like He is real, and who trust in His promises. As though that's just such a terrible thing.

But back to this - listen. I'm not talking about having a faith that trusts only in prayer. I'm not talking about taking everything this world throws at us and falling to our knees and believing that's going to fix things. I'm not talking about having such a grand idea of Jesus. But even if I was, would that be such a bad thing? Would it be so terrible to actually live by the faith that we claim? 

I'm always talking about a faith that is real. A faith that is touchable. A faith that is living and active and loving in this world. I'm talking about a faith with skin on it, where we as Christians actually do things for the poor and the naked and the sick and the imprisoned and the scared and the lonely and the troubled and the tired...do things like feed them, clothe them, visit them, invite them into our homes, stand with them, and carry them to our Jesus - not to our programs - and drop them through the roof right at His feet, believing - really believing - that there is something vital about a relationship with Jesus that is desperately needed  in our broken world. And yes, a faith that prays with them. 

Because I believe in the promise of God that says that He hears us when we pray. And I don't think that's nothing. 

The Trap

What's really, honestly, scary about the fight that Christians are engaged in on the front lines of social justice movements is that whatever victories we gain seem to draw us only further away from our own faith, further away from our own Christ, further away from His very call. 

The more we fight for this world to give men what they need, the honor and dignity that the image of God in them commands, the less even we believe that men need Jesus.

And all of a sudden, we become friends who carry the poor, the sick, the lame, the broken right past Jesus on the way to our programs, telling them that just around the corner is the blessing that they seek.

It's a scary thought, really, but it's happening all the time. When the controversial "Affordable Care Act" passed in the United States, Christians started telling the sick how they could get health insurance now, started pointing them toward programs and subsidies and websites and registration portals. We stopped saying, "Let me help you with that," and started saying, "They have programs to help you with that." 

When a man or woman walks out of prison and walks into a place of employment trying to find steady work, employers are likely to tell them, sorry, we don't hire felons. But I know of some programs that have all of the connections. And then we point them toward the system that we've fought so hard to build for persons like them.

We may drive the homeless to a shelter for the night, but we're not likely to bring them home. We may give a dollar to the hungry or point them toward a food pantry, but we won't put out a plate for them. 

Ironically, we will even invite them to our church's meal program or homeless shelter or clothing pantry or utility assistance or recovery program or whatever, but we don't invite them to our Sunday service. 

We have advocated, fought, and labored for a world where the least among us need our programs, but we no longer believe they need our Jesus. 

But Jesus isn't practical, the argument goes. Jesus doesn't satisfy the hungry, shelter the homeless, employ the felon....

No, but He loves them.

In the Gospels, we see this all the time - everyone coming to Jesus with whatever they've got, friends carrying friends to Jesus so that He can heal them, honor them, dignify them, listen to them, hear them, speak to them, love them - and He does, every single one of them. They walk away healed, whole, restored, honored, dignified, confident, beloved. And we, who claim to love Jesus, carry our friends right by Him because He's just not practical for today's needs.

It's heartbreaking. It's absolutely heartbreaking. And yet, it's the new faith. 

Because we fight so hard for these programs. Who in their right mind can turn them all away for something so impractical as a broken Savior and a bloody Cross?

Almost Cruel

It sounds almost cruel, doesn't it? That Christians should stop lobbying for social justice issues, that we should just let persons be poor, sick, lame, oppressed, and all for the sake of being able to tell them just how much they need God? All so that "Jesus" doesn't go out of business?

Well, yeah. Kinda.

As with all things, it's not so black-and-white horrific as it seems. There's this very subtle difference between what has become popular to do and what Jesus would have us do, and that's the shade of grey that we have to recapture if we want to truly be servants of Christ in this world. 

It's not at all that we should leave persons to their own fortunes, that we should turn our backs on the troubles of this world. Nor is it that we should encourage some sort of "praying away" of the trials of this life, as if all it takes is the right combination of words to set a person's aching heart at ease. Rather, it's that we should acknowledge the brokenness of the world, the fallenness of man, and rather than trying to dig ourselves out of it, we should step into it with open arms and buckets of love. 

There's this idea that we should use our voices to speak for those who go unheard in this world. But Jesus says no, don't speak for them. Teach them to cry out. There's something about using your own voice, learning to put sound to your own experience, and there's something even more about having a God who hears what no one else seems to hear. Jesus hears you - He heard the blind men shouting from the side of the road, He heard the whispers in the back of the crowd, He heard the woman at His feet. In a world that doesn't seem to care, He hears you. And that is a more meaningful gift than a hundred thousand words spoken by someone with a "stronger" voice.

There's this idea that we should labor to construct safety nets to catch the most vulnerable of our society - the sick, the lone, the troubled. But Jesus says no, don't waste your time on nets. You catch them. The most elaborate system of homeless shelters cannot do for the soul what one man can do by inviting the wanderer into his own home. The best healthcare in the world fails to maintain the personhood of the body, reducing it to a series of science experiments until it is well...but no longer whole. It takes the tender touch of the human-Holy spirit to truly heal a man. And anyone who has ever been alone or lonely in this world knows that it takes more than simply having programs where a lot of lonely persons are together in one place; there's got to be a real connection, heart-to-heart, to break the pain of loneliness. None of these things can be legislated. None of these things can be lobbied. None of these things can be budgeted, planned, executed as though they were some master scheme, even of a "Christian" society - they are human endeavors, and they require the intimacy of human connection. 

I'm not saying that all our ideas to go out and change the world are "bad," but they're certainly empty. All this time we spend shouting into the wind with our voices of privilege, while we hold up those we fight for as posters or billboards or advertisements for the cause, not as human beings created in the image of God and beloved by Him. Just look at the way that any number of these social justice movements use the very persons they pretend to be fighting for - they're nothing but images, icons. This is the face of poverty in America.

No, Jesus says. This is Mary. This is Bill. This is Joe. This is my precious child who is so much more than the face of whatever cause you think you ought to take up. Take up My cause.

Love them.

Because it doesn't matter what long-term gains you make in the structure of society as we know it if today, Mary goes hungry, even though you threw away a good helping of food because your eyes were bigger than your stomach. It doesn't matter if tomorrow, you win the battle in your community for shelter if tonight, Bill is sleeping outside in the rain while your guest bed sits perfectly made, closed off, unused. It doesn't matter how much you succeed at getting this world to give the poor something worthy if today, you couldn't give Joe the dignity of looking into his eyes and listening to what he truly needs, even though you looked directly into your phone and responded to a few dozen texts. 

Love them. Because today, you can do that, and that's what God has called you to do. Not point them down the road, not promise them tomorrow, not lend them your voice, but draw them in, welcome them in, listen to them speak, and love them. 

If you're not doing that, you're not doing anything.

In Christ Alone

As Christians continue to push their way to the front lines of social justice issues, it's important to feel the tension that this creates within us as a people of great faith. On one hand, we believe in all of the things that social justice movements are fighting for. On the other hand, Jesus has not called us to fight in such a way. 

And I think there's a pretty good reason why.

It only seems natural - and good - to most of us that we should be out there fighting for these things, fighting for all persons to be treated equally, fighting for the dignity of the poor, the oppressed, the imprisoned, the sick, the lame, the homosexual, the widowed, the young, the old, etc. If Jesus Himself saw the honor bestowed upon them and responded to it, should we not do the same? 

At the same time, there is a very real danger that the harder we fight for these things, the more likely we are to succeed. 

That doesn't seem like a problem on the surface. It's almost laughable, this idea that it would be troubling to live in a world where everyone is treated the way that Jesus would want them to be treated, where everyone is honored for what is God-imaged in them, even if we don't use precisely that language to describe it. But as I said yesterday - what if we could give this to our world? What if we succeeded here? 

We would give them everything Jesus would give them, but we would not give them Christ. And they'd no longer have any need of Him.

What good is a Savior in a world that's not dangerous for you? What good is life when there is no death? What good is light when there is no darkness? If we legislate the world to give them justice and mercy and grace, what on earth would they possibly need Jesus for? 

Therein lies the problem. See, it doesn't take long for the world to forget the why, particularly when they've become so attached - perhaps even entitled - to the what. If we create a world based on the heart of Jesus, then the unbelieving world simply accepts that this is the way that the world is. The world owes them everything they're getting. It's just the way that humans live. It doesn't take long for Christ as the motivator for our movement to fade away completely, leaving us with just what we've given each other. 

I think that's why Jesus is so careful to tell His disciples what they can, and should, do in this world - heal the sick, clothe the naked, feed the hungry, visit the imprisoned, watch over orphans and widows, and above all, love everyone with the holy love of Christ. He never says to go out and re-order the world. He never says to go out and legislate His love. He never says to eliminate poverty. He always says we will always have the poor among us. 

And why? Because He knows that without these things, men will forget their need of God. It won't take long before He is a footnote in human progress, a distant memory of a time gone by, a useful, but now unnecessary, force in the world. Poor men need their poverty to bring them to Jesus, and rich men need the poor to humble them in His presence. The sick need their illness to give them the courage to cry out on the side of the road, and the healthy need sickness to know the healing power of Christ. The foolish need wisdom to convict them; the wise need wisdom to keep them going. Everything that Christ offers is for both the broken and the whole. It is precisely because this world is not what God intended it to be that we are all so keenly aware of our need for Him.

That's the hidden danger here in all our fighting, in all our advocating, in all our longing to see the world live in a way that reflects the heart of Jesus for one and all. It just doesn't take much for men to forget there is a Christ - or how desperately they need Him. 

For Christ's Sake

There's a movement among Christians, particularly younger Christians who are trying to take this whole Jesus thing seriously, to stand along the front lines of social justice issues and fight for those who are less fortunate - who are oppressed, who are poor, who are naked, who are hungry, who are ill, who are in prison, etc. 

The idea is that Jesus would fight for these persons. The idea is that Jesus Himself would be willing to stand for them. The idea is that as Jesus-lovers and God-followers in this world, we should do no less. 

But there's a bit of tension here that we must all feel, even when we're standing in society's biggest gaps, and that is the tension between what Jesus would do and what Jesus would have us do. 

On one hand, yes. Absolutely yes. We have been called to be the hands and feet of Christ in this world, to live the way that Jesus lived, to love the way that Jesus loved. And that absolutely means fighting for others, advocating for the honor of what is God-given and image-bearing in every man, woman, and child. 

On the other hand, no. Absolutely no. Jesus was very clear about the ways that we should interact with the less fortunate, that we should engage the oppressed, the poor, the naked, the hungry, the ill, the imprisoned, etc. He minced no words about it. We have not been called to close the gaps, but to stand in them. 

And what He said was not that we ought to be working to make sure that these persons no longer face these troubles. What He said was not that we should invest our lives in restructuring society so that these classes of individuals cease to exist. What He said...was that we will always have the poor among us. What He said is that there will always be the sick, the naked, the imprisoned. What He said is they will always be here.

What He said was to visit them. Clothe them. Feed them. Heal them. Love them. 

That's different than "fixing" them. That's different than changing their circumstances. That's different than a distant act of advocacy, the kind of thing we do by standing in our pews or standing in our streets. Visiting the prisoner requires that we go behind bars. Visiting the sick requires that we breathe the germed air. Clothing the naked requires that we stand in full vision of their shame (nakedness is equated with shame in the Scriptures). Poverty requires that we give of our own riches. 

And no matter how well we articulate it, giving of our privilege is not the same as giving of our real resources. Giving of our privilege does not entail the same human cost and reward as doing what Jesus actually called us to do, and that was to give of ourselves. 

But it's not just for us. It's not just for the sake of what Christ has truly called us to, but also for the sake of what Christ has given. We can give the oppressed the world. We can advocate our way toward social justice. And let's say we do - let's say that we as Christians succeed and social justice is the norm. We have given our brothers and sisters a lot, a great deal, a good thing. But have we given them the greatest thing?

We have given them what Christ promises, but have we given them Christ Himself?

(Stay tuned.)