Tonight (for class) I read and reflected for an hour on a chapter from Don Postema’s book Space for God. I wouldn’t necessarily recommend the book, not that it’s not good, it’s just that there are so many others out there that I’d recommend first! But this chapter was my favorite, and it was on the Justice & Compassion side of prayer. His connection comes from Matthew 5:23-24:
So when you are offering your gift on the altar, if you remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift.
Postema rightly concludes that if we truly followed this, we’d never get back to the altar at all! For who is completely free from others having something against them. Even if total justice and compassion has been shown to their family, what about the poor, the suffering, those who our religion and country have oppressed? Who can stand and say no one has anything against them? None of us. So they are linked. Prayer leads to an understanding, a hearing, if you will, the cry of the oppressed. Prayer the leads us to “leave it” (in a sense) to take the cause of those who suffer, and in this we are continuing in prayer.
Consider this version of Isaiah 58:6-11
Is not this what I require of you as a fast: to loose the fetters of injustice, to untie the knots of the yoke, to stop every yoke and set free thsoe who have been crushed? Is it not sharing your food with the hungry, taking the homeless poor into your house, clothing the natked when you meet them and never evading a duty to your kinsfolk? Then shall your light break forth like the dawn and soon you will grow healthy like a wound newly healed; your own righteousness shall be your vanguard and the glory of the Lord your rearguard. Then, if you call, the Lord will answer; if you cry to him, the answer will be: “Here I am.” If you cease to pervert justice, to point the accusing finger and lay false charges, if you feed the hungry from your own plenty and satisfy the needs of the wretched, then your light will rise like dawn out of darkness and your dusk be like noonday; the Lord will be your guide continually and will satisfy your needs in the shimmering heat; he will give you strength of limb; you will bel ike a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail.
Something in me just springs to life when I read this. Yes! That is it. And I think what I’m sensing is that, miracle of all miracles, God is beginning to birth in my heart a genuine (albeit very small) love for people. For those of you who read my New Year’s Resolutions (click there to see), my banner goal was simply to love people. I am so stinking low on love. How can I call myself a Christian if I don’t have love, real genuine love for people?
I heard about the most convicting thing yesterday it made me want to throw up. A question was asked of a pastor who speaks nationally about creating missional churches–churches whose goal and focus is truly to build the kingdom of God. He was asked how to instigate change in churches that just don’t have this kingdom mindset, who don’t teach the Word, who don’t stimulate true growth, who don’t spread the gospel. Well, first he answered, you need to ask yourself this question–Why am I here, at this church? Am I here because it’s a career step–a place to get my foot in the door until I can do real stuff, “bigger and better” stuff? Pow. Then he said to ask yourself, “Do you love the people? Really. Do you love the people?” Double pow. Then he concluded: “If you’re there because you genuinely love the people, and you want to see genuine life change and a church set on fire to be on mission with God … then what it takes is time. Lots and lots and lots and lots of time.”
So, all of this fits together. First, I am challenged to let my prayer life ignite in me a conviction that a Christian life that is not moving in this world as the hands and feet of Jesus is not a real Christian life. Secondly, I am challenged as I realize that I might be all excited to go and talk to Jesse, the homeless guy in Portland, about the gospel and give him food and clothes, but am I willing to get on the same level as the people in my small town, to lay aside the perceived gaps and learn to speak their language? Do I love them? I think …. I think … that I’m starting to. The little flicker of genuine love for people that is in my heart is pretty small, but I can feel it, flickering, struggling, lighting up the darkness of selfish ambition and vain conceit in my heart.
Lord, give me love for people. Turn my prayer to action. Make me sick with compassion and uncomfortable with conviction, so that I’ll turn outward and love people for Your sake. In Jesus’ name and for His sake. AMen.