Sara wanted help. She was 27 and dying. No self-respecting Christian would blatantly turn aside, and yet the cost of caring for Sara seemed overwhelming. She had ALS, a degenerative nerve disease that would soon kill her.
The rehabilitation institute had done everything it could to help her cope with what was happening so rapidly in her body. She wanted to go home to her apartment for a couple of weeks before spending her last days with her mother.
A nurse would be with her during the days, but Sara was terrified of sleeping. Her father had died of ALS in his sleep less than a year ago. She asked if some women from our church could stay with her at night.
Sara was not a Christian, but she had heard about our church from a co-worker a year ago—before her disease was evident. Jerry and his wife, Kathy, had stayed in contact with Sara as the disease progressed and was diagnosed. When they brought her to church, many people reached out to welcome her. One was Martha, a paraplegic who knew the agony of living in a body that did not function properly.
We could have sent Sara to a nursing home or encouraged her to move in with her mother sooner. Both options might have met our Christian duty, and they would have avoided disrupting anyone's schedule. But she had asked for our help.
Would Sara receive the Lord if we cared for her? Who could know? It wasn't even fair to toy with such an expectation. There was only one legitimate question. Sara had asked for our help; could we, would we give it?
Sixteen women volunteered to spend the nights with Sara in teams of two. In some cases the volunteers had to find care for their own children; they adjusted their schedules, dropped out of other church obligations, and agreed to live with exhaustion the day after their turns. Seventeen other people joined a support team to pray for Sara and the care givers. Little by little a way was found, and a will to help emerged.
The volunteers usually stayed awake while Sara slept. They calmed her panic when she awoke, communicated God's love to her, helped her talk about her impending death. They did every physical thing for her from feeding her to moving her foot to a more comfortable position. She was still able to talk and move her head. But there was always the possibility that Sara's diaphragm would receive no more signals to draw another breath.
The Long and the Short of Ministry to the Needy
The task of ministering to Sara seemed huge, but it also promised to be brief. Most of us can mobilize for short-term compassion. Ambivalence creeps in when it looks like we will be saddled with ongoing service to weak or disturbed people. How can a pastor hope to build a congregation of strong, mature saints if all the time and energy is devoured by needy people?
There is no lack of scriptural injunctions to receive and serve the poor, weak, and needy. Jesus "came to seek and save the lost" (Luke 19:10), "to preach good news to the poor," etc. (Luke 4:18), and our very salvation is tied to how we serve the least of Jesus' brothers (Matt. 25:34–46). But we usually expect those needy people to be quickly transformed into the strong and mature. What happens when they are not? What should we do when we foresee that the needy are likely to remain needy for a long time? How do we engineer a "balanced" congregation?
Our church happens to be divided into small groups of about a dozen people each. Every group has a designated pastoral leader plus a couple of assistants. In filling out these groups, we have traditionally selected mature support people to help add stability. Then, into that context we could invite new Christians or weak, needy, even disturbed people.
It's been a good model, but our categories haven't always worked. The lines of distinction are not so neat. The strongest and most successful among us are at times very needy. And those we view as basically needy have come through with gifts just when we needed them most.
Martha, for instance, was one of the primary organizers for the ministry to Sara, even though Martha is confined to a wheelchair. Her handicap has developed in her a strength of character and compassion unequaled in many people. Michele was another of the organizers. And yet she is a single parent who has received much ministry from others in the church.
In more recent times we have been paying less attention to who is or isn't "needy" and more attention to spiritual gifts. The biblical analogy of the church as a body indicates that each member has a vital role, each member needs all the other members, and those members who appear less comely are actually to be most highly esteemed.
Recognition of spiritual gifts still enables us to be careful when organizing small groups, but it does not see ministry as a one-way street.
Intolerance of the Weak and Needy
In spite of agreement among many pastors concerning what we ought to do, it is sometimes hard to welcome the weak. We fear that if we really open our arms, we will become a magnet for overwhelming numbers of needy people. Love is so rare in this world that there is some cause for that concern. At Reba we have not been able to incorporate all the people who come to us. We can't put everyone in a small group.
But there are other, more insidious reasons for repelling the weak and needy.
1. We don't want to turn off the successful and the gifted. Modern marketing philosophy tells us a congregation filled with well-tailored executives and professionals will probably attract similar people. After all, who wants to associate with losers?
When I look around on Sunday morning, I usually see eight to ten young people from Grove School, a live-in program for those with mental disabilities and special needs. The same number of older adults wander in from Ridgeview, a local sheltered-care home. Several are in wheelchairs.
I admit I squirmed the day a man rolled in in his wheelchair wearing a big floppy hat with campaign and PTL buttons all around it. Lavender and chartreuse feathers hung down in his eyes, and a dirty serape was thrown over his shoulders. He smelled from ten feet away, and on the back of his chair was a bag with what looked like a bone in it. A sign on the bag read, "In case of seizure."
I couldn't prevent the worry that something embarrassing was going to happen, and I wondered how often our ragtag assembly offended the more refined visitors.
2. We want a powerful, transforming religion. Spiritual success can become more important than physical success. Is our faith powerless if so many of our people are needy, crippled, and even sinful? It's easy to feel that way. Does our God reign?
A couple of Sundays ago, after a teaching on prayer, one member got up and suggested we should seriously pray for Sara's physical healing. Sara was not present, but did we dare take such a public risk before our children and visitors? What if God did not heal her? What if she died? Where was our spiritual power?
We did pray—a simple and direct request to our Father. We asked him to heal Sara and save her life.
We made no claims of knowing God's will, and we did not insist that he grant our request. But we let him know what we fervently wished.
3. We don't like to count ourselves among the truly needy. I have sometimes wondered if God leaves some physically handicapped people in our midst, unhealed, to remind us that we all are needy, but all able to give. That has been one of the impacts on me of the obviously needy people in our congregation. If that is the case, we owe them a great debt. Because, without a consciousness of our own weakness, we could lose our sense of dependence on God. And that would be disastrous.
But it is human nature to want to deny that dependency, and it can lead us to be intolerant of the more obviously needy.
Grandiosity, the Greatest Danger
Intolerance of the weak and needy can find another expression besides outright rejection. It can come out in a compulsive, fix-it mentality. Their lives must be turned around, quickly. We start playing God. Whether with radical measures to save a marriage, dramatic counseling techniques to rescue the emotionally disturbed, or high-pressure efforts to reform a sinning member, we barge on, drunk with just enough success to be oblivious to our error.
Finally, when our hearts are arrested and our eyes are opened to the folly of our over-intervention, we begin to search for understanding and guidance. I have found David's words comforting.
My heart is not haughty, nor are my eyes raised too high. I do not exercise myself in great matters nor in things too high for me.
But I have calmed and quieted my soul like a child quieted at its mother's breast, like a child that is quieted is my soul.
Let Israel hope in the Lord from this time forth and forever.
Psalm 131
We have been trying to learn a more modest sense of responsibility and, with it, the patience to live with what we cannot change. A situation like Sara's is helpful. Apart from God's miraculous intervention, Sara will die within weeks. There is nothing we can do about that. We are not called to save her life, and only God can save her soul. Our mandates are more simple: to care for her for a limited time and to share the Good News. How Sara responds is between her and the Lord.
Guidelines for Ministry
How can one minister best to those who are needy without getting top-heavy?
1. Be sure those who feel their need are welcomed. Some of us don't realize our own neediness, and because of that we expect to be welcomed wherever we go. Not so with handicapped people. If you don't really want them in your midst, they'll soon know it. Welcoming them can be as basic as providing ramps for wheelchairs or sign language for the deaf.
Our ministry to many of the emotionally disturbed and retarded people began simply-by a member who worked in their institution inviting them to church. We have encouraged members with interests in social service or medical fields. They are worthy occupations with many opportunities to befriend people in need.
Our ministry to Cambodian refugees began simply by sponsoring one family. When we invited them to church, they came, and even though we could speak no Khmer and they could speak very little English, they soon invited their friends, who invited their relatives, and on and on.
A wife and mother contributed many hours, and over a summer, a student spent full time establishing a relationship with the first family. Now there are eighty Cambodians coming regularly, and forty-three adults have been baptized and have joined the church. One of our retired men devotes most of his time to our Cambodian population. We didn't plan a ministry to Cambodians. They came and stayed because they felt welcome.
2. Share the task. Any difficult ministry will fizzle and possibly burn out the person trying to carry it if it is not shared.
3. Create a community. Part of sharing the task is to make sure the church really functions like the body of Christ. People need to support one another, know their different gifts, and be free to use them. This comes from being together.
One night I was awakened at 3:30 a.m. by the doorbell. I opened the door to find a body sprawled on our steps. I yelled to my wife, "Neta, call the police!" We have a lot of crime in our city, and my first thought was that the woman was a rape victim. A great bruise was appearing on her bloated face. A moan assured us she was alive.
Then Neta said, "It's Pat! Look, Dave—it's Pat!"
She was right. Pat looked so bad I had not been able to recognize her. In a complete daze, she began to try and get up. We helped her into the house.
She was drunk, totally stoned.
Pat is an alcoholic. For years she had been part of our church, and dry. Then she spent a year in Europe. When she returned, she avoided the church, and we couldn't really engage her.
But in her great need, as she ran down the dark street, she knew help was available. When she fell and smashed her face, she crawled to our door. Because many in the church have moved into our same neighborhood to build a ministry environment, she could have gone to the six-flat next door, the family four doors down, or any of a dozen other homes on nearby streets. Almost anyone who comes in contact with the church soon learns where our houses are in the neighborhood, and they know they are welcome at any of them.
Today, with the assistance of AA, Pat is dry again, and she is renewing her relationship with the Lord.
4. Squander your resources. Modern industry and business have taught people to be costeffective. Do our efforts produce tangible returns? Sometimes in the church we worry too much about that.
For example, we have a church supper each Friday evening. Not all members come, but it is an enjoyable time of fellowship that enhances our experience of community. However, in the last year or so, more and more people from the Ridgeview Sheltered Care Home have been coming. Some of these folks also come to worship, but there are several who only take advantage of the free meal.
For them it is a chance to "go out" for an evening. They show no interest in the Lord, they are uncouth, drink up the coffee before others get their share, and spill things without cleaning them up adequately. I suppose we could ask them to help in the meal preparation or clean-up, but it would probably take more supervision than it would be worth.
Some of us were about to propose some method of restricting their participation or requiring something in return-even if it was just church attendance. But then we were reminded of Luke 14:12–14, where Jesus said, "When you give a dinner or a banquet, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your kinsmen or your rich neighbors, lest they also invite you in return, and you are repaid. But when you give a feast, invite the poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you. You will be repaid at the resurrection of the just."
5. Avoid being manipulated. The last big fight Neta and I had was sparked by a needy man manipulating me.
Our family was ready to leave for a short evening at the library when the phone rang. When I answered, Les said he had to talk to me immediately. He really had something on his mind that he had to take care of. I said there was no way we could do it right then.
"It could be very important for you and several other people," he warned.
"Can you tell me briefly over the phone?"
"No. It's too serious to mention on the phone. "
"I'm sorry. I'm ready to walk out the door with my family."
"Where did you think that one up? How come you won't talk to me, Dave? Are you afraid of me?"
"No. You know I'm not afraid of you, Les."
And I wasn't, personally, even though Les had once tried to punch me in the stomach. But Les is a very unstable character. He has frequently been arrested and institutionalized. And he has genuinely frightened children by entering people's houses, threatening and yelling. Once our children were terrified when he pulled a knife on our barking dog.
I did not want to take a chance that in his rage (whatever the cause), Les might show at our home the next day while I was away. It was then that I took a fateful short cut. Without checking my schedule, I said I would see him if he came by the next night at 7:30. Grudgingly, he accepted the plan.
But when I told Neta, she reminded me I had agreed to take care of the kids that evening so she could go to a practice for a special church program. Counseling erratic Les and overseeing two children at the same time simply wouldn't work. Bewildered, I froze. I had made my commitment to Neta, but Les had also extracted a promise from me. I knew him well enough to know that if I tried to cancel out on him, he would only become more irrational.
My fault in those times is to become silent until I think of a solution. Neta read this as not caring and as expecting her to accommodate her plans to my changes. It was a rotten evening at the library until we got things worked out.
I agreed to try and reschedule the meeting with Les the next day. God had graciously calmed his anger by then, and he went along with the change. I vowed not to let other people commandeer my appointment book in the future.
6. Be clear about sin. Including sinners in our midst is sometimes confused with approving their sin. This shouldn't surprise us, since it happened frequently to Jesus. But we can and should do certain things to prevent misunderstandings, especially when something more than our reputations is at stake.
A couple of years ago our family invited an unwed mother and her new baby to live with us for about six months until they could make more permanent arrangements. The young mother had repented of her sin and had received God's forgiveness. This was known and accepted by the adults in the church. The life we were able to provide Connie and her daughter, Brea, had almost all the benefits of a normal home. Neta gave a lot of physical help. There were hot, regular meals, laundry facilities, plenty of space, warm fellowship and support, and protection.
Our five-year-old daughter, who adored babies, was watching all this. One day she announced, "When I get big and have a baby, I don't think I'll get married."
We had a talk about how important daddies were, and it gave us the nudge to be more deliberate in our teaching about God's plan for the family.
The Rewards of Ministry
The fear that too many needy people in our midst may weaken our faith in a God who transforms and restores is like Peter's fear of walking on water. We may be afraid to try because we don't want to face the possibility of sinking. On the other hand, if we don't try, we can be sure we won't be present when God does work in mighty ways.
Last January a Scientologist family in our neighborhood was having severe financial problems. Their electricity was cut off; they were facing eviction, and they had just had a new baby when we discovered there was literally no food in the house. Tom McHugh's wallpapering business had for a long time been slowly slipping, but there was hope of recovery. Then the bottom dropped out, and they had no reserves.
Some church funds and personal contributions paid the back rent and got the electricity turned on. We organized to deliver hot meals-a custom we do among ourselves when a baby is born. (This made our help appear less condescending.) We also provided groceries for the shelves. It took time, but Tom found another job, and the family is slowly getting back on its feet financially.
To the McHughs, it was a direct miracle, a provision from the hand of the Lord. Scientologists believe failure is the greatest humiliation, the worst thing that can happen. The Church of Scientology, therefore, completely ignored them. But to the Christian, failure is no disgrace. Our church did not strive for an image of success.
The McHughs counted Jesus as their physical Savior, and they turned to him for their spiritual salvation too. They were soon baptized and are now active members of the church, giving to others.
Embracing those in need diffuses the horror of being weak and needy. Maybe the most frightening aspect of personal need and tragedy is the prospect of having to face it alone. But when we welcome those in need, we underline the message that it is OK to have needs; we all do, and we'll not forsake you when you face your hard trial. We're not God, and so we can't fix everything, but we can stand by each other.
When our daughter first saw Sara, she asked anxiously about her disease: "Will that ever happen to me?"
Last Sunday Sara was wheeled into our worship service to feebly give her testimony of her new faith in Jesus and to be baptized. Our Rachel leaned over to say, "Now I don't feel so bad for Sara, because I know she's going to see Jesus pretty soon."*
We have not resolved all our misgivings about the various bacteria that course through the body's bloodstream, and sometimes the more I ponder this condition, the less I think I have the prescription. But we have found truth in a children's song we often sing: "Love is something if you give it away you'll end up having more."
*The day after Dave Jackson mailed his article to LEADERSHIP, his daughter's s prediction came true.
Copyright © 1983 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.
