There are two ways to read the gospel. Is God working to
rescue the poor, the oppressed, the enslaved, or is God working through them to
save everyone else?
Today is Jonathan Daniels feast day—the anniversary of his
martyrdom. On this day in 1965, he and several other people who had been
arrested in Hayneville, Alabama, made their way from the squalid jail cells
where they had been held to a convenience store. Standing behind the door was
an unemployed highway worker with a shotgun. As the man prepared to fire,
Jonathan Daniels pulled sixteen-year-old Ruby Sales, who was standing in front
of him, out of the way, and he was hit by the blast of the gun.
Where was God in that moment? Was he in the hands of
Jonathan Daniels, who saved the young woman from death? Was he in the death of
Daniels, who gave his life for something he cared so much about—a cause he
considered inextricable from the work of the gospel?
It’s easy for me to think that God’s work is reaching down
to life those in need out of their poverty and bringing them to a life that
looks more like mine—rich, secure, happy. But I think that misses the point. My
premise of salvation is built upon the belief that my life is good and their
lives are bad. (Where is Randy Newman when you need him?) But the story of
scripture reminds us over and over that there is a holiness in the struggles of
the underclass. They don’t just reveal God to us as they depart their place of
struggle, but they show us God’s face in the midst of their pain.
Mary’s song says it all. She does not sing of the one-day
salvation God will offer. She proclaims that God has shown strength, that he has
scattered the proud, that he has
lifted up the lowly and filled the hungry. No, that doesn’t mean it’s all
finished yet, but it does mean that God has already shown us his salvation. He
has already demonstrated his love. And it’s not in “moving on up.” It’s in the
realization that God is in the poverty, that God is in the tragedy, that God is
in the shotgun blast.
We should stop dreaming of salvation as the moment when God
makes the world look like the lives we already lead. If you want to see salvation,
go to Hayneville. If you want to see salvation, go to the soup kitchen, go to
the bread line, go to the chicken plant. If you want to see God at work, start
with the poor, hungry, outcast, and oppressed. Their salvation isn’t achieved
by bringing them to us. Our salvation lies with them.
I'm making my way through Andrew Root's Relationships Unfiltered, the more practical version of his book Revisiting Relational Youth Ministry, which grew out of his doctoral dissertation (an application to youth ministry of Bonhoeffer's incarnational theology, if I understand correctly). In both, he argues that the field of youth ministry ought move away from a relational ministry of influence toward a relational ministry of place-sharing. In other words, he argues that youth ministry ought to move beyond fixing our neighbor into being present in and sharing the suffering of our neighbor. His book is helping me in my effort to remove the words "so that" from my ministry, as much as I am able (e.g., organize great trips so that the youth come to Sunday school, bible study, etc.).
ReplyDeleteAll of that is to say this post made me think that the same argument is applicable to mission and the church's work with the poor, hungry, outcast, and oppressed. Are we called to fix the poor, to influence them *so that* their lives are more like our lives of privilege? Or are we called to do as much as we can to share in their suffering and see God in our relationships with each other? Is it ministry for or ministry with?
Anyway, great post. Clearly very thought-provoking.