Hypothetically speaking

Let’s say, hypothetically, you are presented with a choice of sponsoring a Syrian refugee family or supporting a missionary family that works in a Muslim country. What do you do? On the one hand, the refugee family is going to be living on your doorstep because your prime minister has committed to bringing 25,000 refugees over. The family needs your immediate help to integrate well into your way of life. The family has been through horror and bears scars. This may be the first time this family has had any interaction with a Christian, and now they could be surrounded by loving, faithful Christian people. What an opportunity to show Christ’s love to the very people deemed our “enemies.” If you work at the relationship and the language, you may have the opportunity to talk about Jesus, something that may never have happened in the life of this Muslim family. They may never have seen Jesus at work in people’s lives. Of course, you run the risk that the young boy in the family may come to your country with a chip on his shoulder and some day turn radical and kill someone. Yes, that might be a risk. And it’s only one family. And there are others out there more eager to help. And there are so many needs begging for attention. And there’s that home reno you’ve already budgeted for.

On the other hand, here is a missionary family set on going overseas to a country where they will be surrounded by Muslims. They will have the opportunity to speak to any number of families, and they will be intent on bringing them to Jesus. They will be doing their utmost to “go and make disciples of all the nations.” They will serve the spiritual needs of a population instead of driving people to English classes and finding them family doctors. In the light of eternity, this is a no-brainer.

The things of this world will grow strangely dim:
moonscape photographed by China National Space Admin.

Or is it? The very fact that these two opportunities are presented as an either-or choice is problematic. It’s like asking if you want to spend time with your husband or your kids. You do both. It can also be symptomatic of a very, very old heresy called Docetism. Docetists, like gnostics, viewed the material world as hopelessly polluted and of no eternal value, an unqualified “This world is not my home” sort of view, a “The things of earth will grow strangely dim” sort of view, so they didn’t invest in learning about it or taking good care of it or learning its history. None of us Evangelicals live to this extreme. We are excellent at helping people. But sometimes we live shades of this heresy. A friend just said to me today in refutation of sponsoring refugees, “Sometimes we get distracted from our main mission…to go and make disciples.”

This world is not my home:
moonscape photographed by China National Space Admin.

This could be a shade of Docetism, which denies the Incarnation. When Jesus became a man, he placed infinite value on every human quality, on every molecule of our earth, on every atom of our universe. God took on the cosmos as his home, “moving into the neighborhood” as Petersen puts it, and when he did that, he made all the world worthy of care and redemption. There is zero dichotomy between caring for people’s souls and caring for people’s stomachs, because God made both, incarnated both, and redeemed both. Always both. Jesus didn’t turn away from people’s suffering in order to care for their souls. Nor did he heal people to gain an audience for his message. Paul even set aside his church planting ministry to take money to Jerusalem to feed hungry people. It was always both for them. It is impossible to “go and make disciples” unless those disciples truly “obey all that I have said,” which includes, “Love your enemy; do good to him that hates you.” “Where were you when I was hungry? Where were you when I was languishing in a prison- refugee camp? Depart from me. I never knew you.” It’s always both. We are called to make disciples of Jesus who worship him by loving his creation and his creatures. Here. Now. There are many, many things to distract us from the Kingdom of God, but human suffering is not one of them. It’s usually something much closer to home.