How should I respond to the poor?

I was told that as students here at the Washington Journalism Center we were going to talk about this as a group at some point, but I figured I might as well get the thoughts rolling right now.

If you spend any time at all walking the streets of DC, chances are that someone has asked you for money. Maybe it’s the skinny old man in front of 7 Eleven, the old woman at Union Station who needs money for a bus fare, or the guy on the corner of 12th and F St. with nothing but a sleeping bag and a cardboard sign. In any case, it happens quite often.

I don't think there's one absolutely right blanket answer that we can give and be done with it. Poverty is much more complex than that. I mean, there’s a whole publication (Street Sense) devoted to poverty and homeless issues just in DC, not to mention the countless worldwide mission agencies, rescue missions, relief efforts, books, and a lot of Bible passages.

Perhaps I’ll get to a systematic approach to poverty later. For now, consider two recent situations I encountered.

Last week, I was walking to the gym after a long day at my internship. A heavyset black man with shoulder length dreadlocks, no older than his thirties, was standing on the street corner next to the gym asked me if I could spare some change. Sick with a cold and not in the best of moods, I brushed him off and went in to work out. When I came out he was still there, and he called out to me again. A flare of compassion, or perhaps pity, at his persistency stopped me from brushing him off again. As I started to reach for my wallet, I asked him what he was going to use the money for.

“Um, to get some beer,” he said sheepishly.

His response startled me. I appreciated his honesty and even felt some pity at the sight of his pleading face, but it didn’t help his case.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “but I don’t think that’s something I want to help you with.”

I started to turn away, but in a last ditch attempt, he pointed to my water bottle.

“Is that wine?”

“No it’s cranberry juice,” I said.

And that was the end of it—an easy decision on my part. I quietly congratulated myself on the discernment and wisdom I had shown in giving to—or rather, not giving and therefore not hurting—the poor.

The week before, I was walking through the city in Northwest, a few blocks away from the White House and the heart of business and news in DC. A rough-looking man stepped out from underneath the entrance to a building into my path. Naturally I slowed down, so he shook my hand and started introducing himself.

“Hey brotha’ how you doing…”

I’ve come across my fair share of people asking for change, but I was taken aback by this man’s boldness. He told me about how he had been in prison (the exact number of days, in fact) and how he had gotten out and was ready to turn over a new leaf—to do the right thing. He wanted a few bucks to go to McDonalds and get something to eat.



Just got out of prison.

Says he’ll do the right thing.

Has the humility and boldness to ask for help.

What do I do?

I’ve promised myself many times in that past that I would always take advantage of a situation like that. When someone comes up and asks for money, take him out to the nearest fast food place. What better way to share the love of Christ with this man than to not only provide for one of his physical needs, but to actually sit down with him and get to know him a little bit? I hadn’t had dinner yet myself, I was done with my internship for the day, and I didn’t have any pressing homework to do.

But I did have an intern bible study at Capitol Hill Baptist Church that evening. Well, actually it was intern bowling night with the bible study group—the only fun group activity that they had planned for the semester. It would be a great time of fun and fellowship and a good chance to get to know some people in the group better. They were leaving at 7:30 sharp, and I had to walk straight back if I wanted to be on time.

On the sidewalks of downtown DC at 6:55 in the evening, I found myself facing an ethical dilemma, and I had to decide on the spot. I probably bounced back and forth between the two sides three times in the twenty seconds it took the guy to explain himself.

On the one hand, my time with the church is precious. I’m only hear three and a half months, so every Sunday service and every bible study counts when it comes to getting plugged in at a church. There’s nothing like spending time in fellowship with the people of God, and I think one could argue that it’s spiritual suicide to try to live the Christian life without being part of a local church.

On the other hand, who knows what’s going to become of this guy? Who knows if another Christian will ever cross his path again? What is he going to eat, or where is he going to sleep tonight? What if he doesn’t have any friends or family to go to?

The bible study won out. I’d been looking forward to it for the past few days. Besides, it certainly wasn’t a bad choice, I reasoned. God calls us to both love the body of Christ and to love the poor and the loveless, and I could only choose one.

I wondered about that decision as I walked back to my apartment. I still wonder about it. I wonder if my rational was justified. Had I arbitrarily decided, if you will, between two equal options? Or did the entertaining and the easy route win out over the uncomfortable and the awkward?

As Christians, we’re called to love people, but what is love without sacrifice? Anyone can spare some loose change once in a while, but it’s a different thing all together—especially for people here in DC—to sit down in a McDonald’s for 45 minutes with an ex-convict, or to spend time getting to the root problem of a man begging for money so he can get a beer. We may really want to help these people; we just don’t always want to take a chunk out of our lives to do it.

That’s how I am, and it’s an easy attitude to justify. Everyone has a lot on their plate—we’ve got places to go and things to do, deadlines to make and appointments to keep. We need to spend time with our families. We want to do a good job for our employers by being knowledgeable and having network connections. We need to read the news. We want to spend more time with the church.

Did I make the right choice? Right now, I don’t know. It’s a tricky business. Even though we live in a sinful and fallen world, there are a lot of really good, legitimate life choices out there. The hard part is rising above the self-centered nature of our own hearts to decide which choice is best.

Comments

[Shayla Story]

Andrew as I was perusing through the site I came upon your post, obviously, and I think what you present is valid. I'm unsure if there is a 'right' choice when it comes to an issue like poverty.

While we're all called as Christians to love one another, and care for the poor, I think it's important to also realize that it may not be our strength. Love them, sure, but take full responsibility, that may not be the path you're personally supposed to take. We've all been blessed with strengths. Speaking, writing, loving, preaching, whatever the case may be, but we have areas that weigh heavier than others.

I've always had this personal struggle with not wanting to go into mission work. When I was in high school, people would always come to my church and talk about the importance of missions, needing to go out and make fishers of men. I'm not sure about others but I couldn't hook a fish even if I was the worm. It never appealed to me. I had friends who would jump at the chance to go travelling in Africa, or jump on the next plane to Russia and work with orphans. Don't get me wrong, my heart goes out to them, but now in my third year of college I recognize that's not where my passion lies. I think the same is true when it comes to dealing with the poor.

See Mother Theresa gave her life for the poor. I'm not sure if you've read up on this amazing woman, (you should, if you haven't) but her life wasn't easy. Every step of the way she was dealing with her own personal struggles, but felt called to this life-altering, heart giving cause. It was something that she didn't have to think about.

While your heart may strain for those that you see in distress, and for that it shows great character, maybe it's not your personal calling. What's wrong to you could be right to someone else. So I'm glad you opted to go bowling and build community with your church group. If God wants that ex-con to really be touched by His love, He'll open up tons of opportunities.

I know we've been told since youth that being a Christian is tough, and it's the narrow path. That you won't always be happy. Some Christians are miserable. But I don't think that's Christ's overall hope. Enjoy the gifts He's blessed you with. Life will be tough but it doesn't mean you have to give up everything you enjoy. So please acknowledge those that are homeless or poor, talk to them, heck, shake their hand, but don't second guess yourself. You're doing what you're suppose to do, what's best for you, and if the big guy upstairs really wants you to take that extra step, or share a meal, He'll grant you with another opportunity. I guarantee it.

[Abby Collins]

Shayla Story:
I agree with some of your statements. Being in a constant state of turmoil due to grappling with the moralization of every single situation is not good. One should live life and trust God.

But to lump loving in as a "strength" right in between writing and preaching? That just seems like a flat out shirking of responsibility. EVERYONE is to love. It is not something you have to be "gifted" with, and to view it as such is an easy out.

Also, although we were called to love our neighbors, let us not forget what the GREATEST commandment is: Love the Lord your God with all your heart, mind, and strength. Luke 10:27-28
Perhaps remembering this would dispel some of the moral grappling we find ourselves experiencing in the first place.