What if it really were a thing of the past, like rotary dial pay phones?
What if the concept of poverty had to be explained to our children like the concept of making one’s own vinegar, bread yeast starter, or having ice delivered for the ice box?
What if poverty were a thing unknown?
What if we didn’t have to travel across town or across continents to see its devastating effects? What if we never felt the conflicted inner drama when the television portrayed images of listless, half-clothed children held by crying mothers?
Jesus said, the poor will always be with us. His head glistened with the costly perfume a woman had poured upon him—so costly it was worth a year’s wages. The well-to-do and the disciples looked on and said something like, “What a shame, that money could have been used to feed the poor,” because money can always be put to the noble task of feeding the poor.
But Jesus pointed them to himself, to the act of gratitude given in humility, to the beauty of the woman’s worship. Moments before, the room hummed with the clatter of dishes and the talk between guests but now sank suddenly quiet—electric with tension. And like all great moments with Jesus, this one was simple but complex, stretching the bounds of the human mind to understand and the human heart to accept. (Mark 14)
Who is “the poor” here? Who was standing in the wrong or in the right, who possessed plenty or none at all? What are we supposed to do with all that forgiveness and emotion and the awkwardness in the room?
Indeed, poverty has not ceased, nor has slavery or oppression or violence. It could be easily argued that they have increased over the centuries since Christ walked the dirt of Israel. Then why follow Him? Why do it Jesus’ way? Why offer the good news of forgiveness through His sacrifice when really people need paying jobs and protected freedoms and education?
As usual, Jesus makes us think this one through, because He is certainly a good teacher. But He was leveling the playing field once again and making this thing clear:
Poverty of the soul is the deepest need of humanity.
Sin hollows out, eats alive the insides of one’s heart, leaving a vacuous plain of grief littered with shame, hatred, and rage that swirl in the vortex of a heart raked raw by sin. It separates us from God. A Christian’s fight with sin will always be a battle ongoing until that appointed day when God speaks and all is set aright once again.          Â
Until then, what is our hope? We cannot hope in the efforts of human good will alone, although that helps. We cannot hope in education, or in feeding programs, or through legislation, occupation, colonization, immunization, domination.
Our hope alone is found in the person of Jesus, in the tears shed and the sacrifice broken in worship to Him. It is found in agreeing with Christ that He is indeed The Way, The Truth and The Life. Because when we find our whole hope and purpose there, He lifts us up to stand holy, “set apart,” and we can then see the great challenges of this world through His perspective. Our hearts will break for those in the room—yes, in the world—bristling  under the simplicity of it, raging against the inconceivability of it, overwhelmed by the largeness of it.
When we shift the focus on Jesus, we receive the compassionate love Jesus has for each and every person. Our vision of need changes, too. We begin to see that there are opportunities everywhere to extend His love and forgiveness and healing. We understand our souls are gifts and our bodies are meant to operate for His purposes and we can emulate Jesus: loving people with all we’ve got and trusting God with the outcome.
Our hope in Jesus becomes the redefinition of our existence. “I once was lost, but now I’m found. I was blind, but now I see.” The lordship of Jesus redefines how we see ourselves, how we see the great challenges of the world like poverty.
When Ben Thomas traveled to Ethiopia in November 2013, he witnessed poverty and its broad strokes of destruction. He saw the sick and the hungry and the uneducated, because in rural Ethiopia especially, the poor are everywhere. But when he heard the volunteers from a church in the Wolaitta region speak about poverty, he was impressed, surprised even.
The volunteers have been trained in a sustainable model of ministry called CHE, Community Health Evangelism. The trainers learn how to identify the greatest needs in their community, they learn how to address basic health practices like building pit latrines and dish drying racks, and they learn how to communicate with and lead others in their communities to rise up together and learn better ways to live. Their motive? It’s because of Jesus’ love. CHE is a gospel-based model and at its heart is the grand scheme of God: salvation made available for everyone who believes in Jesus Christ. The focus is on Jesus first and serving others next.
The CHE trainers told Ben they are seeing their neighbors “forgetting poverty.”
The disabling shackles of its hold on the people in their communities are falling away and communities are focusing on positive things. Focusing on the tools and the technology they have as well as their talents, they now declare the mobilizing truth: We can do all things through Christ..
Is there a more empowering truth? Is there a greater way to meet the physical, emotional, and educational needs of our neighbors than via the Spirit of Christ? What if true poverty was indeed a thing of the past?
Friends, Jesus has paid the price for your sins, has bought you back from its hold.Is your heart overflowing with gratitude? Are you kneeling in sacrifice and praise to Him? Have you received His compassion for the lost? Spending time with the poor, like Ben Thomas did—like Jesus did—reveals the poverty of all of us, makes us equal recipients of His grace and goodness.
This is why New Covenant Foundation exists—that we might go arm-in-arm with our Ethiopian friends, bringing the riches of knowing Jesus Christ as Savior to people who have not yet heard His name. Together, we will forget poverty and truly believe that through Christ we can do anything.
