04/07/2026
There was a time, not long ago, where communities would come together and help people who were struggling. Kindness and Service isn't a religious or government responsibility. It's up to each of us to support our family, friends, neighbors, and strangers when we are able to.
This doesn't mean give to the point of self harm, or to expect others to take care of you when you're capable. Give when you can, love often and always be kind. The peace you give, may turn out to be your own peace as well.
The Church, the Poor, and the Truth We Need to Tell
“I was hungry and you gave me food…” (Matthew 25:35)
There is no way around it. Caring for the poor is not optional for the church. It is at the very heart of the gospel.
Jesus makes it unmistakably clear. The prophets echo it. The early church lived it.
So when people say the church should care for the poor, I don’t disagree. I say: Yes. Absolutely. Without hesitation. But then we have to tell the whole truth.
Because some voices go further and say that the church alone should carry that responsibility—and that any role for government somehow reflects a lack of faith. That’s where we need both clarity and honesty.
Scripture itself does not place the burden in one place alone. Families have responsibility (1 Timothy 5:8). The church has responsibility (Acts 2–4). And governing authorities, however imperfect, are given a role in ordering life together for the common good (Romans 13).
Even in ancient Israel, care for the poor was not left to charity alone.
There were systems—gleaning laws, Sabbath practices, Jubilee—that were woven into the structure of society itself.
In other words: The biblical vision is not just generosity. It is justice.
And when we move from scripture into the world we actually live in, the scale of the challenge becomes impossible to ignore.
In our nation today, aid to the poor—through programs like Medicaid, Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, and the Earned Income Tax Credit—amounts to hundreds of billions of dollars each year, roughly 10–15% of the federal budget.
That’s not theory. That’s math.
Now compare that to the church.
All churches combined in the United States receive a fraction of that in total giving—and only a portion of those resources goes to direct aid.
Which means this: Even if churches gave everything they had, it would not be enough to replace what is currently being done at a national level.
That is not a failure of faith. It is a matter of scale.
And if we are honest about what would happen if churches tried to take this on alone, the picture becomes even clearer.
Churches would be overwhelmed almost immediately. Core ministries—worship, pastoral care, discipleship—would begin to erode. Clergy, already stretched thin, would carry an impossible burden.
And perhaps most troubling of all, care for the poor would become uneven and inconsistent—strong in some places, nearly absent in others—especially in the very communities where the need is greatest. Because the areas with the most poverty are often the places with the fewest resources.
So let’s say this as clearly and faithfully as we can: The church is called to care for the poor. And the church must never abandon that calling.
But the church was never meant to carry that burden alone.
No amount of charity—no matter how sincere or sacrificial—can replace the need for just systems that address poverty at its roots.
So this is not an either/or question.
It is not church or government. It is church and government. Along with families, communities, and a shared moral responsibility.
The church feeds the hungry. The church walks with the vulnerable. The church bears witness to compassion in flesh and blood.
And the church also speaks—clearly, courageously—calling the larger society to reflect justice, mercy, and dignity for all.
Or, as the prophet reminds us: “Do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God.” (Micah 6:8)
That is not political. That is biblical.
And in a world of deep need, it is also necessary.
