For the Sake of Compassion

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A while ago, I went temporarily stale on the NIV. I had read it so much that my mind was just skating over the surface; it wasn't fresh any more. So I went and bought a New American Standard New Testament for a change.

Sure enough, the change in viewpoint helped me learn some new things about the Scriptures. And one of those things set off a train of thought which led, indirectly, to this article.

I was reading through Luke when a phrase in 11:41 struck me. The NIV, I knew, said that if the Pharisees, instead of trying to clean the outside of their dishes, gave what was within 'to the poor', it would be clean for them. The NASB, on the other hand, said 'give that which is within as charity'. My interest was caught. I have just enough Greek to cause trouble with, so I went to my Greek tools and looked up the word. It derives from the word for mercy, kindness, compassion, or pity.

It's interesting how the leading evangelical Bible translation fails to put across this implication, and the leading alternative one doesn't do that much better. Everyone knows, of course, that it's more important to evangelicals whether you're sleeping together than whether you're sleeping in a ditch; but this brought to mind other, earlier reflections on the idea of compassion.

A while ago, a friend and I were talking with the (American) leader of a charismatic ministry on a university campus. I mentioned an insight I had gained from the healing of the crippled beggar outside the temple in Acts chapter 3, the first miracle after the Resurrection and Ascension: that, when speaking of the incident before the Sanhedrin, Peter and John claimed very definitely to have healed the man as an act of kindness, a morally good act. (A different word is used, but the man was asking for alms - the compassion-mercy word - and they claimed to be giving him what they could, clearly meaning to answer this plea). The fact that it enabled them to testify about the power of Christ was secondary, not primary; they simply took this opportunity to preach as they would have taken any other. (I did not say this at the time, but it was parallel in this way to Acts 13, where Paul takes the opportunity offered by the synagogue leader to present 'a word of encouragement' to the congregation.) The charismatic leader, who had been talking about 'power evangelism', seemed mildly taken aback by this and said something to the effect that not many people would have thought of that, by which I took him to mean that nobody he'd ever met had considered the issue that way.

I continued to think about this from time to time, for instance when I talked with a pastor whose church was about to institute social service programmes, and he mentioned that this would give them credibility to be able to preach the Gospel; when I heard and read other mentions of 'power evangelism'; and when I read the Scriptures. Reluctantly, I have come to the conclusion that the evangelical church, and the charismatic church, are enthusiastically doing what they consider the right thing, but not because it is the right thing; only because they think it will be effective. We are certainly not doing it out of a heartfelt compassion.

How serious is this? To a fact-oriented person like me, it seems more important, initially, that something be done well and have good results than that it should be done for the right reason. And since the Protestant church has been strongly fact-oriented from its foundations in the Reformation, this attitude is a common one, especially among academically trained, professional 'clergy'. But this doesn't seem to be what the Scriptures are saying.

Jesus has some extremely scary words on just this topic. "Watch out," he says, "for false prophets" (Matt 7:15-23). We immediately expect something about doctrine; after all, false prophets proclaim false doctrine, right? Definition of a false prophet. Well, let's read on. "They come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly they are ferocious wolves." OK, they seem straight, but they're not. How do we know we've got one? "By their fruit you will recognise them. Do people pick grapes from thornbushes, or figs from thistles?" Ah, that's clear enough; it's what they do that singles them out. If people are doing what's right, they're all right.

Or are they? Let's look down a couple of verses further on. 'Not everyone who says to me, 'Lord, Lord,' will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only he who does the will of my Father in heaven." Very clearly, it's what you do that counts, right? Next verse. "Many will say to me on that day, 'Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and in your name drive out demons and perform many miracles?' Then I will tell them plainly, 'I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!'"

Hang on. All of a sudden, doing God's will isn't just a matter of performing the right actions. Even spectacular actions in the name of Jesus. False prophets are defined by something different again. They are not known by Jesus because, although they did all the stuff, there was still something missing. John White, himself now a 'power evangelism' exponent, remarks on these verses, '. . . do we or do we not belong to him? The question is a solemn one, for in my ears I hear querulous voice of the future pleading, "Lord, did we not organize rallies in your name and in your name bring thousands to the Exhibition Hall? Lord, did we not put on a television show that brought in thousands of dollars for your cause?" And for some of these the answer will be, "Depart from me, you workers of iniquity, into outer darkness. For I never knew you."' (John White, The Golden Cow, Marshall, Morgan and Scott, 1979, p 138.)

Let's throw the contextual net wider, and move back to verse 12 of the chapter, Matthew 7. "So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets."

Why 'so'? So what? Back up further. Jesus is talking about his Father's generosity to us as a reason for right action towards others. He mentioned something like that before, didn't he? Yes, he did, in 5:43-48. We are to be loving towards our enemies in order to imitate our Father in heaven, who does good to both the righteous and the wicked. He immediately goes on to talk about giving to the needy; not openly, to excite admiration (for you personally or for your church, ministry, or other collective label) but in secret.

We do not do things for others to draw attention, for any purpose whatever; though if it does, we should be prepared to use that opportunity just the same as any other opportunity to let others who are listening know about Christ. The reason we do it is to imitate the character of God. For, as John Piper explains in his book Desiring God, if we truly love God and think, as is in fact the case, that his character is to be admired above all others, won't we want to develop that same character?

Which raises some questions about the assumptions behind 'power evangelism', and in fact evangelism generally. There doesn't seem to be much emphasis on building godly character within this movement as a whole. (This is not to deny for a moment that many within it are of godly character; only to question if this is a result of their involvement and one which can be expected in others converted into the movement and nurtured within it). The underlying idea, perhaps introduced partly throught the involvement of C. Peter Wagner and other church growth experts, seems to be that the primary function of the Church is to attract people to it, and that miracles and healing are a means to this end.

I would question both of these assumptions very strongly, saying instead that the primary function of the Church is to be the Body of Christ on Earth, the living, visible representation of what God is like; and that this is not best demonstrated by miracles and healing as such but by demonstrations of compassion, with this means not being necessarily the best.

The proponents of 'power evangelism' claim that Jesus and the Apostles modeled their approach, working mighty 'signs' to draw people to God. The opponents of 'power evangelism' have questioned these assertions, sometimes, I think, convincingly. I don't want to enter into the question of whether miracles are for today; I'm in three minds (yes, no and maybe) on that one and am not prepared to tie myself down to an opinion. On the one hand, I have never seen convincing practical evidence for New Testament miracles- complete, instantaneous, permanent healings of organic illnesses (not simply imbalances in the internal systems, such as headaches, which can be 'healed' psychosomatically) - being regularly performed today under credible conditions, although I have had second- and third-hand reports of occasional instances. On the other hand, I differ from many conservative theologians in that I see no indication in Scripture that such things may not occur today. My personal inclination would be to prefer that they did; but honesty precludes my claiming that they do in the absence of evidence.

At the same time, I have difficulty with John MacArthur's 'sign-writing' theory, as well (my term for it), which claims that miracles occurred simply to attest to the reliability and divine origin of revelation, and that when revelation was completed (at the completion of the New Testament) they ceased, having no further function. Briefly, I would point to the 'writing prophets', notably Isaiah, Jeremiah and Ezekiel, who wrote a great deal but can only muster one unambiguous objective miracle between the three of them (the sun going back ten steps on the stairway of Ahaz, Isaiah 38:8), and compare them to those prophets of an earlier age, Elijah and Elisha, who performed many spectacular miracles but did not themselves contribute to the canon of Scripture.

No, my theory of miracles (and I restrict it to the New Testament until I'm sure one way or the other, but the principle has modern application) derives largely from the incident recorded in John 4 of the royal official's son. This man begged Jesus to come and heal his sick son, and he was tested with a similar statement to that with which Jesus later (in John 6) admonished the crowds who followed him because he had multiplied the loaves. '"Unless you people see miraculous signs and wonders," Jesus told him, "you will never believe."' The man's reply showed his true motivation; he already believed, what he wanted was healing for his child. 'The royal official said, "Sir, come down before my child dies."

'Jesus replied, "You may go; your son will live."' (John 4:46-50.)

The phrase is not used here; but it is frequently found in other, similar passages where sick or needy people have implored mercy: 'And Jesus had compassion, and healed them.' Frequently, he forbade people to speak of their healing. He was not doing it to draw attention to his message. It was part of his message of a God of compassion.

Enough, I think, of charismatic-bashing for the moment. Let us turn to the conservatives.

While the campaign against the Homosexual Law Reform Bill was going on in New Zealand, a passage in Ezekiel gave me considerable food for thought. It is part of a long address to unfaithful Jerusalem personified as an adulteress, and says, 'Now this was the sin of your sister Sodom: She and her daughters were arrogant, overfed and unconcerned; they did not help the poor and needy' (Eze 16:49).

What a perfect description, I often thought, of many of those protesting against the legalisation of what they, without having considered this Scripture, thought to be the 'sin of Sodom'. In conjunction with Romans 1, this verse helped me to understand that homosexuality (though a sin) was not the cause, but rather one of the symptoms of God's judgement upon the Cities of the Plain.

In case you have ever wondered, Romans 1 tells you why the first commandment, to have no other gods before the One True God, is first. It is because this is the basic sin; turning from the greatest being in the universe and his moral perfections invokes one of those moral perfections: his terrible justice. He judges us in the worst way possible, by ratifying our desire to be free from his control. And we start down the ramp that leads to death. (See further 'Helen's Face in Hell'.)

Now, sin is not only a personal matter, as the Old Testament demonstrates repeatedly. A whole nation, and not just the nation Israel but Gentile nations also, can turn away from God's perfections and incur his wrath. And inasmuch as we have turned from his perfect compassion, and his perfect justice, and his perfect holiness - which is not something quiet and lyrical that we can 'look into', as the gently lilting and so-enjoyable song puts it, and gaze on like a beautiful sunset; it is the sun itself in burning, purifying fury - inasmuch as we have turned from these, and turned to self-righteousness, and complacency, and materialism, and genteelly despising our neighbors and especially the ones who have less than us, and made God in our own image as a middle-class, middle-aged suburban bigot, we have sinned; and inasmuch as we have sinned, God has judged us, not by plagues of locusts, but by the evils which organically spring from self-righteousness, complacency, materialism, and genteel loathing: youth rebellion, anarchism, crime, faceless beaureaucracy, poor government, and mediocrity. And family breakdown, drug addiction, alcoholism, and homosexuality.

I found it fascinating to read two reports in the same issue of the New Zealand Herald, (13 September 1991) both quoting Auckland's Anglican Bishop, Bruce Gilberd. In the one which appeared on the front of Section 1, he condemned Government economic policy as having no compassion, no spiritual factor, and being a potential source of hurt in the nation and conflict between church and state. On the back of the same section, he was again quoted, this time saying that homosexuals should be welcomed into full participation in the Anglican Church. He said it was important to be careful to avoid 'selective literalism' when interpreting the Bible on this issue.

Now it seems to me that it is Bishop Gilberd who is interpreting the Bible selectively, seeing love as its only teaching and overlooking the teachings of holiness. But almost more importantly, he is missing the connection between lack of compassion - reflected in government, but originating in the people from whom the government is drawn and whom they represent in more than a constitutional sense - and homosexuality. A nation which lacks compassion is not reflecting the character of God. And if the church within a nation lacks compassion, how will the nation as a whole have it?

Part of the trouble is that we are trying to achieve things through organisations; and organisations cannot be compassionate. Only people can be compassionate. I was not surprised, recently, to hear that Presbyterian Support Services is having trouble with its employees, who accuse the organisation of treating them badly. Organisations will always tend to treat people badly and use them, regardless of the purpose for which they were originally formed. Partly, it is an inherent quality of organisations; partly, too, I think, it comes from the uncritical importation of secular management techniques (and, inevitably although not obviously, the ideology behind them) into our organisations in order to make them function 'better'. But it is an impoverished and dangerous definition of 'better' which does not include compassion.

I'm very, very frightened at the shallowness of the church in a time of hurting people, and especially since the church seems determined to pull these people in by any means. Nor am I alone; to quote John White again: 'For many years I have felt something was profoundly wrong with modern evangelism. So deep was my concern that at one stage in my life I was swept perilously close to permanent agnosticism. The uncanny resemblance between evangelistic campaigns and sales campaigns undermined my confidence in what the evangelists said. . . . Christ is not a product to be marketed, nor are those to whom you witness customers.' (The Golden Cow, pp 127, 135.) A church in my own country is going down this path - they have no cross in their auditorium, but a large banner over the stage proclaims their 'marketing image' (this is what they actually call it). It's reported to me that there is no cross in their preaching either. It doesn't sell.

But people will come in, drawn by the glitter - whether of healings or of food banks, it's the same in principle - and find an unreal church with easy answers to the hard questions, with a quick-fix prayer and a basic life principle for the most soul-wrenching, gut-ripping, heart-crushing struggles of life, with a plastic smile and a song full of cliches in a building with soft carpet and shiny electronics, where the world can be shut out and God shut in, boxed up small, issued in digestible packets of baby food with a false icon on each little box. One corollary to Murphy's Law says that you can't get anything clean without getting something dirty, but you can get everything dirty without getting anything clean. I'm not sure if that works in terms of redemption, but I'd like to rephrase it like this: You can't get anyone healed without getting someone hurt, but you can get everyone hurt without getting anyone healed. The church is attempting healing without hurt, and getting hurt without healing. Pastors are hurting, and nobody has compassion on them; do you have compassion on your doctor or your lawyer? And isn't it the same? They're just professionals. Christian leaders are hurting, and sinning, and their spouses are hurting, and they won't cry out because there is no compassion for imperfection; we have standards to maintain, here. Meanwhile, the church is enthusiastically applying John White's principles of producing a human conversion: make people anxious, induce guilt, destroy their judgment, repeat the same cliche over and over, encourage exhaustion. (The Golden Cow, pp 130-132).

The evangelisation of the world is urgent. But it seems to me that it is no good doing urgent tasks quickly and without thought. You will do them badly; and you will leave the next generation with a still more urgent task, magnified by the mess you have made, which they will have to clean up before they can even begin to plan how best to do the urgent task.

So can we maybe, this year, start letting go of our firm grasp of the wrong end of the stick? Cancel our evangelistic programme, cancel our spiritual gifts seminars, even cancel our social services 'outreach' if we dare, until we have looked, terrified and awestruck and glorying, into the character of the holy God enough to be able to do what we do for the sake of compassion.

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