Pure Religion [jessi]

“Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world.”

About four years ago, while volunteering for a child sponsorship organization, I was in conversation with a woman interested in sponsorship. On the point of filling out the proper forms, she asked, almost as an afterthought, if this organization had any dealings with the Catholic Church. This hadn’t occurred to me before. I quickly rifled through all the literature I had been provided—Mission Statements, and financial disclosures. None of these were stamped in 24pt font with “No Catholics Allowed” so I had to be honest and tell her that I didn’t know. They work with established churches in poor communities, and while they are an Evangelical organization, I supposed it was possible that they worked in conjunction with a Catholic church if that’s where there was a need.

She pursed her lips, thinking for a moment, and then unclicked the pen. She said (and these are her exact words—I still remember because they made me so angry), “I’d rather have a child not hear the gospel at all than have her hear about him from the Catholics.”

I would like to tell you that I drew myself up and looked at her with clear steady eyes, and told her that her money would give food and clothing and an education—not just a Sunday school lesson. That she was heartless and petty. I wish I had told her that she ought not to have heard about Jesus at all, if she was going to go around telling people about a white Protestant Jesus who only loves little children who go to Protestant churches. But I’m afraid my mouth gaped open, and the only thing that came out sounded like “uh-uhhnnn…”

Years later, that woman still embodies to me everything that is wrong with American Christians. She left me standing at my table while she gathered up her three precious kids, loaded them into her Ford Explorer, and drove home. A home that has electricity, running water, and food in the kitchen pantry. And somewhere, a couple thousand miles south and a little bit east, a little girl wasn’t learning about Jesus from the Catholics. I suppose it’s possible that this woman went home, checked out the organization online, satisfied her personal issues, and signed up. Maybe, but I doubt it.

I’m not here to argue about denominations—I feel pretty woefully ill-equipped to tackle that sort of thing. And anyway, the issue isn’t so much which group of Christ-followers you are a part of, but whether you are actually following Christ. One thing I’ve always liked about the Bible is how it constantly champions the underdog. In Leviticus there’s a whole section that shoots to pieces the idea that business isn’t personal—in sections across the board, dealing with everything from acceptable sacrifices to property ownership, there are exceptions for the poor.

Isaiah 58 is one of the most convicting things I’ve ever read, because it shows not only exactly where God’s priorities are, but also how far we fall short of his benchmark. It opens with God’s people upset that God doesn’t seem to be paying attention to an elaborate show of devotion, but God turns around and tells them that their display is a sham, and then tells them exactly what kind of repentance he wants to see:

Is not this the fast that I choose:
to loose the bonds of wickedness,
to undo the straps of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free,
and to break every yoke?
Is it not to share your bread with the hungry
and bring the homeless poor into your house;
when you see the naked, to cover him,
and not to hide yourself from your own flesh?

Bring the homeless poor into our houses? Who does this kind of thing? Not anyone I know. This is the part where I'm going to lose most of you. You'll stop reading because I'm going to make you feel guilty and angry, and you're going to justify in your head all of the reasons why you shouldn't rush out and become the next Greg Mortenson (no, seriously. Have you read Three Cups of Tea? The guy moves mountains all by himself). You have a family, a job, and other commitments. You tithe to your church, and isn't that all Jesus tells us to do anyway? A Christian slogan like “love God, and love people” is popular—google it, and you’ll get over 15,000 hits—but we tend to limit its meaning to the people in our established bubble. If no one within that immediate circle is poor, needy or oppressed, are we off the hook? I don’t think so. The world is full of hurting people, and we who live in the wealthiest nation are the few who have the resources to do anything about it.

Here are some of my favorites:

http://www.globalvolunteers.org/index.html
http://www.volunteermatch.org/
http://nothingbutnets.org/
http://www.one.org – I mean, come on! Be a part of Bono’s tribe!
http://www.compassion.com/default.htm
http://www.worldvision.org
http://www.redcross.org/

There are a billion ways to help, even if you don’t have the resources of Bill Gates, Oprah, or Bono. Get off your butt and start giving cups of cold water to the very least of these. I don’t care about your politics or your denomination. Jesus doesn’t, either.