The Wrong Way to Approach the Poor
By Chase Miller
May 22, 2014
Chase Miller is a Christian impassioned (obsessed) with social justice, community development and dynamic, impactful ministry. Chase lives in Philadelphia and operates youth programming in Camden, NJ.... Read More
There is a heartening development within the mainstream Church of late: people are starting to take what Jesus said about the poor seriously.
Indeed, gone are the days when simply taking up a collection for inner city, rural, or overseas missions would suffice. Instead, Christians of all ages are rolling up their sleeves and getting far more hands-on in matters of poverty. We take mission trips, we volunteer in homeless outreach ministries, some of us even do advocacy work in our spare time. We are involved.
Yet as a new generation of Christians heeds God’s call to serve “the least of these” in our society, I feel that it is necessary to stop for a moment and reflect upon our approach to serving with those living in poverty.
To put it quite frankly, some of our perceptions towards the poor are somewhat outdated.
So before we rush in with righteous vigor to help the helpless, so to speak, we would do well to dispense of some archaic lenses through which we view poverty. Trust me, all parties involved will be better off for it. Here are some ways not to approach those in poverty.
Don’t Let Pity Be Your Motivation
Believe you me, the last thing that poor people need is your pity. Your friendship? Absolutely. Your prayers? Without a doubt. The problem is, when we approach someone with pity and then stay at that level, there is never any mutuality to the relationship. They remain a specimen, a project, if you will.
When we approach someone with pity and then stay at that level, there is never any mutuality to the relationship.
Look at Christ’s example of the Good Samaritan—his first response for the downtrodden man splayed across the roadway was indeed pity. That’s probably why he stopped in the first place. Yet the next phase of their interaction was far beyond pity. It was intimacy.
The Samaritan cleaned and bandaged his wounds, gave of his time and talents, and invested himself in the wellbeing of his newfound friend. Pity by itself allows us to keep people at arm’s length, never developing the reciprocity and meaningful exchange that characterize a real relationship.
Get Rid of Your Savior Complex
This leads to the next response to poverty, and it’s a complex one. Have you ever noticed that when people speak with children, they tend to change their tone and “talk down”?
We adopt that same tendency when encountering the impoverished of our world. Whether we have stopped to speak with a homeless man on the street, or are conversing with a local in a developing country, we adopt an airy sort of tone that—rather unintentionally, I’d say—sets up something of an intellectual hierarchy. The fancy word for this is paternalism.
When I first started living and working as an intern in the beleaguered but promising city Camden, New Jersey some leaders from our ministry held perhaps one of the most candid orientation sessions I’ve ever experienced. One of the Directors, a Camden native and now a friend of mine, stood up and said in no uncertain terms, “You’re not going to change Camden in just two months. No one is going to carry you off on their shoulders at the end of the summer.”
He continued, his tone blunt and honest, “And don’t look at it as you’re ‘bringing God to the city.’ God has been here long before you arrived, and He will be here long after you leave.”
In our passion and energy, we can mistakenly assume something of a “Savior Complex” when serving with the poor. Note the intentionally-inserted word “with,” which implies that the relationship is not one-directional, but collaborative.
There is only room for one Savior, and His name is Jesus Christ. We are merely His humble servants.
Don’t Let Fear Hold You Back
I grew up in and around Philadelphia, and am no stranger to perceived “no-go” zones in our cities and in our world. For many, especially Christians, we have ensconced ourselves in the safety of the suburbs to avoid the rampant dangers and violence of—gasp!—the inner city! Many don’t engage with the poor because, quite simply, they fear the poor.
Eleven o’clock news sound bytes such as “fatal shooting” and “robbery at gunpoint” grip the collective mindset and paint those living in poverty with an oppressively broad brush.
I am glad to say that this perception is beginning to die out, albeit slowly. When I tell people I work in Camden, the requisite eyebrow raise and muted response of, “Camden, eh?” is becoming fewer and more far between.
The millennial generation appears to making strides, and the old guard’s fearful ways of engagement—or lack thereof—is becoming a thing of the past. Though we are risking gentrifying long-term residents out of exponentially priced housing, at least the fence that fear put up is starting to come down, slowly but surely.
The Right Approach
Thankfully, there are ways to remedy this situation, to effectively shed the perceptions that we might impose upon the poor.
Serving with the poor is about partnership, about sharing, about mutuality and equity.
And the good news is that it doesn’t involve a three-point plan or anything of that sort. It’s something of a heart condition, an internal shift that changes the way we look at ourselves first, and then others.
The best summation I’ve ever heard of this change of heart came from Brian Fikkert, author of the book, When Helping Hurts. Sitting in his session at the 2013 Justice Conference, I heard Fikkert assert with much vigor that serving with the poor is about partnership, about sharing, about mutuality and equity.
He said, “It’s about us grabbing each other by the hand and saying, ‘Hey brother, I’m a beggar too!’” Indeed, in this heavenly banquet that Christ has prepared, we have all been given the same invitation, and we will all one day sit side by side in His presence.
We can overcome pervasive pity, condescension and fear when it comes to serving with the poor. It will only happen though when we realize that we all approach the throne equally before our Mighty God.