Charity is a core part of the church's mission to our nation and world. But what if our best efforts to help those in poverty actually drive their poverty deeper? Robert Lupton, founder and president of Atlanta's FCS Urban Ministries, argues that many popular forms of generosity and service are often toxic and destructive. In his new book, Charity Detox: What Charity Would Look Like If We Cared About Results(HarperOne), Lupton offers a roadmap for turning short-lived good intentions into lasting transformation. Bethany Hoang, founding director of International Justice Mission's Institute for Biblical Justice and co-author of The Justice Calling (Brazos), spoke with Lupton about stories of destructive charity and his vision for a new way of doing missions.

How does serving and giving become toxic?

We have a very involved and compassionate group of Christians in our culture who volunteer and give from the heart. In one sense, that’s something we can be proud of. We are a serving nation, a serving church, and our motivations are good. It’s just that we have been measuring our activities—how many people we see, how many food boxes we distribute, how many clothes we give away—instead of looking at outcomes.

The unintended consequences are sometimes destructive. When we do for others what they have the capacity to do themselves, we actually disempower them. We assume responsibility that was never ours to carry. And so the troubling message of Charity Detox is that we may be doing more harm than good, and folks who are well-meaning and operating from the heart have a very difficult time hearing that.

Over the years I have spoken with many leaders who have been wounded by critics. The story is usually the same: they ask to meet with me during a time of reflection on their life and leadership. After some small talk and a normal dialogue on leadership, we get to the heart of the matter. Sometimes that means I see how exhausted they are, and sometimes they end up in tears. It’s easy to spot a wounded leader.

1. They avoid people.
   When a wounded leader is hurt deeply, they avoid everyone possible. They are quick to “escape” conversations with others.

2. They are on the defensive.
   A wounded leader doesn’t let people in. They keep their guard up and are ready to defend their position on any issue in question.

3. They assume everyone is talking about them.
   Sometimes leaders don’t expect criticism, and when it comes from people you consider as friends, it’s a tough pill to swallow. To these leaders it feels like they don’t know who is for them and who is against them. As a result, they assume that there are critics in every group and that everyone is talking about them.

This weekend I uttered a word that made many people in my congregation cringe. It’s a word that has been known to make the strongest of women faint with fear, and the most stout-hearted men weep like newborn babes. That word? Budget.

I don’t know many people who get really excited about budgets. But I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t benefit from one. Living without a budget is like driving without a gas gauge, or getting dressed without consulting the weather, or eating your chicken without caring if it’s fully cooked. It might work out, but it’s a foolish risk.

As with every unfounded fear, ignorance makes the task before us seem more intimidating than it really is. So we’re here to help. Here is Brad Hambrick, our Pastor of Counseling, with a thoughtful primer on budgets, “Eight Definitions for a Misunderstood Document.” You can read the entire post here.

1. A budget is the numerical expression of an individual’s or family’s mission and priorities.

This does not mean we need to color code our budget according to “Love God; Love Each Other; Love the World,” but it does mean these categories should be on our mind as we do our budget.

This year marks the 75th anniversary of perhaps the most recognized and influential painting of the 20th century, the “Head of Christ,” by Covenanter Warner Sallman.

A 1994 New York Times article titled “The Man Who Rendered Jesus for the Age of Duplication” declared, “With the race for best-known artist of the century nearly over, Pablo Picasso and Andy Warhol are running neck and neck, with Andrew Wyeth a respectable third. But when the official tally is made, all three are likely to be buried in a landslide vote for Warner E. Sallman.”

The article continues that the “ ‘Head of Christ’ achieved a mass popularity that makes Warhol’s soup can seem positively obscure.”

The image has been reproduced more than 500 million times, yet Sallman lost the vote for best-known artist. “No one knows Sallman, but they know the ‘Head of Christ,’ ” said LeRoy Carlson, president of theWarner E. Sallman Art Collection. He travels around the country giving presentations on the artist.

Sallman first drew the image in charcoal in 1924 for the cover of the new Mission Covenant youth publication, The Covenant Companion. At the time, he titled it “The Son of Man.” After the drawing gained notice in wider circles, Sallman, who worked as a professional illustrator, painted the oil version in 1940, calling it “Head of Christ.”

In many ways, anxiety has served me well. It’s the energetic fuel in my tank. In my professional life, anxious energy drove me to do research for my undergrad thesis, complete my doctorate, and write a few books. At home, it keeps my house clean and gets my kids’ parties planned.

But as anyone who has felt the weight of anxiety knows, it has a dark side. Even at its best, it’s a bit like an annoying gnat—irritating and noticeable even if it doesn’t affect my life too much. At its worst, anxiety feels like being swarmed by locusts in one of the Old Testament plagues. It gets heavy and scary and overwhelming.

Several months ago I crashed. Everything about the day seemed typical. With a few final words of instruction to the babysitter, I jumped in the car, glanced at my phone to check the time, then let out a frustrated sigh because I was running behind. I turned on some quiet hymns and took a deep breath, waiting for my racing heart to slow down. But instead of calm, I felt my anxiety grow with underlying stress.

I realized that this was my life, going from one crisis of anxious discomfort to the next and trying to keep above the stress and exhaustion. And here’s the hardest part: I’m a psychologist and a counselor. I know better than most that there’s a better way to deal with anxiety. I spend my days helping clients with everything from basic worries to obsessive-compulvise disorder to disabling panic disorder...but often wasn’t listening to my own advice.

At the worst of my anxiety, I asked the obvious question: What if I actually did what I suggested to my clients? I had the theory down, but needed a radical revolution in praxis, my embodiment of that knowledge.