I don’t usually write deeply personal posts at Daily Honesty Box. In a sense they’re personal, in that my passion for the church to live a life worthy of her calling comes straight from my gut. And I don’t mean “the church” as in something “out there”; I mean me, you, everyone who calls Jesus their Lord – all of us, as individuals and collectively as Christ’s body, his tangible presence on earth – aka the church.

This post is the first in a series of personal reflections, entitled “Getting Real Hurts”.

As I walked home from Starbucks earlier with my dog, Chappie, I thought about how hard it is to be a follower of Christ in our materialistic, self-obsessed culture. Please don’t laugh! I’m not about to launch into a pity-party. I am thankful for God’s provision. But I want my life to matter for Jesus. I don’t want to buy into the lie that how I invest myself post-salvation doesn’t really matter, since my place in Heaven is assured. I believe it is, but I also believe that what I do from here to the end of my earthly life can either honour Christ’s sacrifice or cheapen it.

In a paradoxical way, our relative affluence in the west makes true sacrificial living more difficult. For example, I sponsor a World Vision child. I’m sure my involvement in her life is having a positive impact. But really, $40 taken from my bank account each month isn’t a sacrifice. I still have a nice place to live, plenty of food to eat, clothes to wear, etc. I get this haunting feeling sometimes that sponsoring a child who lives in abject poverty, halfway across the world, is something I do more for myself than for her.

Why do we have so much in the west, while the majority of the world lives in squalor, struggling from day to day just to stay alive? Isn’t there something obscene about the juxtaposition of our plenty with their lack? Yet, I’m as guilty as the worst materialist out there. I love technology; I have all kinds of really cool tools and toys. Just the other day I was looking at a gorgeous Taylor acoustic guitar at a local music store. I already have a Taylor, by the way, but this was a higher-end model, made of exotic woods with beautifully detailed inlays. To be honest, though I’m writing this post, I still might trade in my current model and buy the beauty I lusted after the other day.

Puts a slightly different spin on Paul’s familiar lament in Romans 7:18-21:

I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it. So I find this law at work: When I want to do good, evil is right there with me.

I’m not saying that money & possessions are inherently evil, but they can be a serious stumbling block, blinding us to different ways of living that could help alleviate global injustice and poverty for real. The more I think and pray about it, the more I realize that the two go hand in hand. We are not supposed to be of this world, though we live in it. Does Jesus mean we should walk around with an air of superiority, thanking God that we’re not like those sinners down the street? Or does he mean that our choices and priorities should line up with the Kingdom of God, not the kingdom of the world?

Imagine, for example, if the church in the west got together and decided to set aside their doctrinal differences, sell most of the church’s real estate, and channel the resulting millions into finding a solution to global poverty. We could think of it sort of like Paul’s collection for the Jerusalem church, who were crippled by terrible persecution and famine.

I know, you think I’m a feeble-minded simpleton, right? It’s much more complicated than that, you chide. Is it? Or have we made it complicated? If our priorities were in line with God’s, the idea would sound quite sensible. God’s way is not complicated. Following Christ is not complicated. Jesus tells us that if we want to be first in the Kingdom of God, we need to change and be like little children.

Anyway, this post won’t be neatly wrapped up and concluded, because I don’t have answers to the questions I raise, but I know God does. And I know that getting real hurts, but it’s worth it. The narrow road Jesus talks about is not comfortable and easy. It involves asking ourselves and each other tough questions. It entails giving more than $40 a month, 10% of our income, or whatever measure of our own righteousness we unconsciously cling to. The narrow road is the one that leads to the cross. It’s the place where giving all we have out of our poverty is what honours God the most.

As Jesus looked up, he saw the rich putting their gifts into the temple treasury. He also saw a poor widow put in two very small copper coins. “Truly I tell you,” he said, “this poor widow has put in more than all the others. All these people gave their gifts out of their wealth; but she out of her poverty put in all she had to live on.” (Luke 21:1-4)