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3. THE BIBLICAL ROOTS: THE NEW COVENANT
I place no value on anything I possess, except in relation to the Kingdom of God.
—David Livingstone
In his manifesto on the poor, Jesus declared his intention to “set at liberty those who are oppressed” (Luke 4:18). And as he went among people teaching and healing, he observed the many oppressions that bore down upon them. He sought to lift their burdens, and as he did he spoke repeatedly and vigorously of one of the greatest burdens they bore—the burden of providing for themselves against tomorrow.
He saw how people were broken by the effort to attain riches. He perceived their awful vulnerability in believing that it was their responsibility to provide for themselves, to watch out for number one. The Apostle Paul said that those who desire wealth have “pierced their hearts with many pangs” (1 Tim. 6:9–10). And Jesus observed the pangs that had pierced the hearts of so many, the pangs of striving for riches.
Jesus also saw how people were crushed by the failure to obtain riches. In his day it was considered a mark of God’s displeasure to be poor. And those who had failed to receive the goods of this world could not help feeling that somehow God was against them. Remember how baffled the disciples were when Jesus told them that a camel could slip through the eye of a needle more easily than the wealthy could enter the kingdom of God (Matt. 19:24)? This astonishment was due primarily to their belief that the wealth of the rich young ruler was a sign of God’s special favor upon him. No wonder they exclaimed, “Who then can be saved?” (Matt. 19:25). And Jesus perceived how bruised and trampled in spirit people were because they were poor and felt that God was displeased with them. Repeatedly he opposed this false and destructive doctrine, showing instead that in the economy of God, the poor, the broken, the halt were special objects of his blessing and concern (Matt. 5:1–12). By word and deed he sought to lift the burden of the discouraged and disheartened.
Jesus further saw the wearisome burden upon those who had gotten riches and were trying to hold onto them. He knew the cancerous nature of wealth and often warned of its dangers. He spoke of the “deceitfulness of riches” (Matt. 13:22, KJV). Riches are deceitful precisely because they lead us to trust in them, and Jesus saw that trap and the spiritual destructiveness which attends it. This was the burden that bore down upon the rich young ruler. Not only did he have great possessions, but more significantly, the great possessions had him. Of all oppressions, his was the most spiritually debilitating.
To all those weighted down by the burden of tomorrow, or some other burden, Jesus extends a gracious invitation: “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me; for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Matt. 11:28–30). Our task in the pages that follow is to seek an understanding of the teaching which undergirds this call to liberation, this summons to simplicity of life.
Christ the Center
The most radiant passage on Christian simplicity in all the Bible must be Matthew 6.1 It simply sparkles with joy and trust. Earlier, Jesus announced that the kingdom of God had burst upon the human scene. Hence we can live in a new, glorious inner liberty of alms-giving, praying, and fasting without any need for human approval. We can obey the trenchant command, “Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth” (Matt. 6:19). We can live lives focused upon stockpiling “treasures in heaven” (Matt. 6:20). We can be scandalously free from anxiety, because we are under the watchful eye of him who richly cares for the birds of the air and the lilies of the field. No longer do we need to bear on our backs the soul-crushing gentile burden of the world of tomorrow. With focused eye and centered heart we can freely “seek first his kingdom and his righteousness,” knowing that all things needful will be provided (Matt. 6:33).
Jesus teaches us with a negative and a positive command: “Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth,” but do “lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven” (Matt. 6:19). The “treasures” in view here are not just great riches, but all those things that we trust in and cling to. My boys, for example, when they were young, had some very special treasures. When I looked into what those objects were, I was frequently amazed, for they may have been only some shiny stones, or an odd-looking stick, or a pile of rubber bands. But for my children these were coveted treasures. Jesus is warning us that, no matter what our earthly treasures may be, we have to be very careful about holding too tightly to them, because they are bound to disappoint us and to keep us from living in the kingdom of God in the freedom and power we desire. He knows that we have an almost compulsive need to secure ourselves by means of earthly things but tells us not to do that, and proceeds to give three reasons why we should not amass earthly treasure but should store up heavenly treasure.
The first reason is that this world is a very uncertain place (Matt. 6:19–20). There simply is “no hidin’ place down here.” Now, these days we may not have a problem with moths and rust corrupting our treasure, but it is certainly difficult to find a situation where inflation does not “break in and steal” it. Jesus is forcing us to see that, regardless of how secure our treasure may be, it will ultimately fail us.
The second reason Jesus points to is the fact that whatever we fix as our treasure will take over our whole life: “For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also” (Matt. 6:21). He was not saying that the heart should or should not be where the treasure is, but that it will be.
There is no option in this matter: our whole mind will be fixed around our treasure. When Jesus said that “no one can serve two masters,” he did not mean that it was unwise to serve two masters, but that it was impossible. If our treasure is in our bank account, or an educational diploma, or any other earthly thing, our mind will not be on God.
Jesus illustrates this fact in the most profound way: “The light of the body is the eye: if therefore thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light” (Matt. 6:22, KJV). If all within us is honed down to the single treasure of Christ and his kingdom, then we are living in the light of simplicity. The ancient term “single eye” has a rich connotation that our English has difficulty capturing. It refers both to a single aim in life and to a generous, unselfish spirit. The two ideas have such a close connection in the Hebrew mind that they can be expressed in a single phrase. Singleness of purpose toward God and generosity of spirit are twins. The single eye is contrasted with the “evil eye,” which is a Semitic expression for a covetous nature.2
Jesus lived in this singleness of purpose with God so perfectly that he could say without embellishment that he did nothing of his own accord ( John 5:19). His words were the words of the Father; his deeds, the deeds of the Father. And, astonishingly, he calls us in our own small way to enter this unity of purpose. He invites us to the life of the “single eye” through which the entire personality is bathed in light and unity. With our eye focused on Christ the Center, we are to live with glad and generous hearts. This is simplicity.
The third reason Jesus gives for not laying up treasure on earth is that provision has already been made. The birds of the air and the lilies of the field all witness to an order in the kingdom of God, in which adequate provision is made for everyone and everything. God provides for us according to our needs, just as he does for the plant and the animal life.
Jesus is not telling us to refrain from making provision. We miss the point of the teaching if, when the family gathers for supper, we announce, “Now, the Bible says to take no thought for supper, and so we haven’t.” No, we work, but we work in faith, not in the anxious concern of distrust. On a practical level it is at this point that the nagging problem of “faith versus works” is resolved. We live centered in trust and faith, and all our action and work arises out of that center. It is not fear and anxiety over tomorrow that prompt us to work, but obedience to the divine command. We make provision as it seems right and good ( just as the birds do), but what comes to us is not so much the result of our labor as it is the gracious gift of God. We live the carefree life of unconcern for possessions in the midst of our work.
When this spirit of trust pervades all of our efforts, we understand the unwisdom of borrowing evil from tomorrow. No longer distracted by concerns for tomorrow, we seek first Christ’s kingdom and his righteousness. The focus of our thought, speech, and action is Christ the Center.
Identification with the Poor
The life of Christian simplicity is necessarily tied to a concern for the poor and defenseless. We cannot live at the divine Center for long without being compelled to care for our neighbor. For Christ, love of God and love of neighbor were two sides to the same door—we must do both to get through the door. And like the Samaritan, we soon discover that our path often leads to the bleeding and broken of humanity.
Perhaps no book in the New Testament gives a more sustained and passionate plea for the disadvantaged and dispossessed than the Gospel of Luke. Luke is the Gospel of the poor, the voice of the voiceless. Any statistical accounting would demonstrate that Luke gives the most attention to the poor and needy. But beyond sheer scoreboard count, it seems that Luke has a special sensitivity to the hurting and the helpless. This Gospel, then, provides us with a valuable departure point in understanding the New Testament summons to simplicity.
Luke alone records Mary’s Magnificat, with its lovely magnification of the Lord. Its very beauty may cause us to miss its strong advocacy of the lowly and needy:
He has shown strength with his arm,
he has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts,
he has put down the mighty from their thrones,
and exalted those of low degree;
he has filled the hungry with good things,
and the rich he has sent empty away. (Luke 1:52–53)
The birth story itself is told with stark simplicity in Luke: the obedience of Mary, the humility of a manger, the faithfulness of Simeon and Anna. How often we have marveled at God’s choosing unpretentious Bethlehem and simple shepherds as the court scene for the regal birth. Perhaps God is teaching us something central about the nature of the Gospel life in the way his only begotten son was born.
Consider the simple counsel John the Baptist gave the common folk: “He who has two coats, let him share with him who has none; and he who has food, let him do likewise.” To the tax collectors he urged honesty: “Collect no more than is appointed you.” To soldiers he counseled contentment: “Rob no one by violence or by false accusation, and be content with your wages” (Luke 3:11–14). The point of the instruction is its elementary nature—small, simple items that accent the welfare of others.
Again, Luke alone records Jesus’s proclamation at Nazareth with its tender advocacy of the poor and oppressed:
The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives
and recovering of sight to the blind,
to set at liberty those who are oppressed,
to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord. (Luke 4:18–19)
Note the helpless nature of each group—the poor, the captive, the blind, the oppressed. Certainly this shouts to us something of the burden of Jesus Christ. Certainly it must also be the burden of all who follow him.
The beatitudes of Luke are distinguished by their pointed economic perspective: “Blessed are you poor…. Blessed are you that hunger…. Blessed are you that weep…. Woe to you that are rich…. Woe to you that are full…. Woe to you that laugh” (Luke 6:20–21, 24–25). The poor, the hungry, the sad are contrasted with the rich, the full, the happy. It is as if all those classes of people we feel are unblessed and unblessable are showered with special honor. And as if that were not enough, those people we would consider to be well off have woes pronounced upon them. Blessings upon the poor, woes upon the rich.
Do these beatitudes mean that God has no concern for the wealthy and self-sufficient? Is God opposed to people of means? The moment we pose the question we sense its absurdity. Deep down we know that God’s love is indiscriminate. But how are we to understand these beatitudes? Clearly Jesus was making use of the common Jewish teaching technique of hyperbole to accent God’s identification with the weak and the destitute. There is a special divine caring for those who cannot care for themselves. In these beatitudes, Jesus is expressing his burden for the bruised and broken, and he invites us to share that burden.
This tenderhearted compassion for the defenseless is again seen in Christ’s instructions to his dinner host to invite the poor, the maimed, the lame, and the blind when he gives a banquet (Luke 14:12–14). The purpose of inviting such folk, of course, is not to get one’s name in the social register, but because they need help.
Luke’s account of the rich man and poor Lazarus underscores the same perspective (Luke 16:19–31). The rich man was not an evil person as we normally think of evil. He had not caused Lazarus’s poverty, at least not directly. He did not even chase Lazarus away from his gate, as many of us might be tempted to do. He merely ignored him. But that was the great offense! According to Christ, torment in Hades is a just recompense for the failure to respond to the plight of poor Lazarus.
Following a luncheon with Jesus, Zacchaeus exclaimed, “Half of my goods I give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I restore it fourfold” (Luke 19:8). Honesty, generosity, and concern for the poor belong together. It was this act alone that caused Christ to remark, “Today salvation has come to this house” (Luke 19:9).
The Epistles express the same concern. According to the Apostle Paul, the Jerusalem council urged those ministering among the Gentiles to “remember the poor” (Gal. 2:10, but see also Acts 15:35). Former thieves are to learn to labor with their hands in order to “be able to give to those in need” (Eph. 4:28). Even widows are to be characterized by generosity to the afflicted (1 Tim. 5:9).
According to the Apostle James, the definition of pure and undefiled religion is “to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world” ( James 1:27). The wealthy are not to receive preferred treatment in the Christian fellowship ( James 2:2–9). If a brother or sister is in need, we are to meet that need rather than piously say, “Be warmed and filled” ( James 2:15). And John, the apostle of love, reminds us that if we close our hearts to the obvious need of another when we have the ability to help, we do not possess the love of God (1 John 3:17).
The Dangers of Wealth
The New Testament consistently and vigorously warns of the dangers of wealth. Many of Jesus’s statements on riches and caring for the needy come to us in staccato commands that frighten us. With seemingly reckless abandon, we are advised, “Give to everyone who begs from you; and of him who takes away your goods do not ask them again” (Luke 6:30). And again we are to “lend, expecting nothing in return” (Luke 6:35). If someone takes our outer cloak we are to surrender our coat as well (Luke 6:29). In terse, pointed language Jesus commands, “Sell your possessions, and give alms” (Luke 12:33). It was not sufficient for the rich young ruler to have an inner spirit of detachment from his possessions; he was commanded literally to sell everything if he wanted the kingdom of God (Luke 18:22). And with broad strokes the Lord declares, “Whoever of you does not renounce all that he has cannot be my disciple” (Luke 14:33).
If we are shocked by these strong words of Christ and try to retreat from his direct commands to his more general instruction, we find little comfort. To would-be disciples he warned, “Foxes have holes and the birds of the air have nests; but the Son of man has nowhere to lay his head” (Luke 9:58). He told the parable of the rich farmer whose life centered in hoarding and called him a fool (Luke 12:16–21). He counseled the disciples to travel light: “Take nothing for your journey, no staff, nor bag, nor bread, nor money; and do not have two tunics” (Luke 9:3, but also see Luke 22:36). Jesus said, “Take heed, and beware of all covetousness; for a man’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions” (Luke 12:15). He declared war on the materialism of his day. The Aramaic term for wealth was “mammon,” and Jesus condemned it as a rival god: “You cannot serve God and mammon” (Luke 16:13). Graphically, he depicted the difficulty of the wealthy entering the kingdom of God as being like a camel attempting to get through the eye of a needle. With God, of course, all things are possible, but Jesus clearly understood the difficulty because he saw the grip that wealth can have on a person.
The Epistles are characterized by the same uncompromising language. Paul declared, “Those who desire to be rich fall into temptation, into a snare, into many senseless and hurtful desires that plunge men into ruin and destruction” (1 Tim. 6:9). With embarrassing vigor James denounced the wealthy: “Come now, you rich, weep and howl for the miseries that are coming upon you. Your riches have rotted and your garments are moth-eaten. Your gold and silver have rusted and their rust will be evidence against you and will eat your flesh like fire” ( James 5:1–3). Earlier he had blamed killings and wars on the lust for possessions: “You desire and do not have; so you kill. And you covet and cannot obtain; so you fight and wage war” ( James 4:1–2).
Paul said that a bishop should not be a “lover of money” (1 Tim. 3:3) and a deacon should not be “greedy for gain” (1 Tim. 3:8). The writer to the Hebrews counseled, “Keep your life free from love of money, and be content with what you have; for he has said, ‘I will never fail you nor forsake you’” (Heb. 13:5). Paul called covetousness idolatry and commanded the Corinthian church to exercise stern discipline against anyone guilty of greed (Eph. 5:5; 1 Cor. 5:11). He listed greed alongside adultery and thievery and declared that those who live in such things would not inherit the kingdom of God. Paul counseled the wealthy not to trust in their wealth but in God, and to share generously with others (1 Tim. 6:17–19). The Spirit had stern words for the lukewarm church in Laodicea, which rested in self-sufficient ease: “For you say, I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing; not knowing that you are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked” (Rev. 3:17). Strong, powerful, stringent words indeed!
We sense in these statements an uncompromising and frightening call to discipleship. They are words that do not admit to “easy Christianity” or “cheap grace,” as Bonhoeffer put it. But this is not the only reason they frighten us (and may I add, just so you understand, that I too am frightened by this fierce language). These words terrorize us because we read them as laws that are to be adhered to in every circumstance. Hence we see no way to limit them. But we simply must understand that the writers of the New Testament did not intend to give us a new set of laws. The limit inherent in all these teachings is built into the simple principle of love of God and neighbor. Dr. Dallas Willard has said, “Love is a well-reasoned concern for the good of all.”3 Love does not have tunnel vision. If I bring the needy into my home and destroy my own family in the process, I am driven by something other than love. These commands of Jesus must be understood within the broader context of the law of love. This biblical instruction is not meant to destroy us, but to set us free. It is the glad trumpet call of liberation to all who are oppressed by reputation, wealth, and power.
We must not overstate the New Testament criticism of wealth. Though far from rich, Jesus himself did not come from the poor masses of Israel. New Testament scholar Martin Hengel surmises that, as a carpenter, Jesus came from “the middle class of Galilee, the skilled workers.”4 The twelve disciples came from basically the same background. Zebedee, the father of James and John, evidently owned the family fishing business, which employed other laborers besides his sons (Mark 1:20). Matthew apparently held a rather prestigious position in the tax-collecting business before his call by Christ (Mark 2:14). Although they had left their regular occupations to follow Jesus, the disciples received support from well-to-do women, “who provided for them out of their means” (Luke 8:3).
Jesus was often among the poor, but he was also frequently in contact with the rich and privileged. More than once he was found dining at the banquet table of wealthy Pharisees (Luke 7:36, 11:37, 14:1). Joseph of Arimathea was both a wealthy man and a disciple of Jesus (Matt. 27:57). Also Nicodemus, who had come to Jesus at night and later became a disciple, evidently had considerable means ( John 19:39).
Jesus was so far from being a rigid ascetic that he was accused of being a glutton and a drunkard (Luke 7:34). The accusation was obviously a malicious smear, but it pointed to the fact that joyous celebration was an important element in his life. He could rejoice with a young couple in a week-long wedding festival and even provide extra drinks for everyone ( John 2:1–11). The Lord could allow the lavish expenditure of perhaps a year’s wages to be poured over his head and feet while the disciples grumbled about the needs of the poor (Matt. 26:6–12). The Apostle Paul could rest contented with much as well as little.
What we discover from the New Testament witness is the combination of a penetrating criticism of wealth with a carefree, almost lighthearted attitude toward possessions. It is a combination seldom found today.
The Incendiary Fellowship
When the life and power of the kingdom of God burst upon the human scene at Pentecost, it was the catalyst for a powerful expression of Christian simplicity. The infant Jerusalem church is eloquent testimony to that reality. Until Pentecost the disciples were a motley crew—bickering, backbiting, jockeying for position, always squabbling over who was to receive top billing. Unfocused, they did not know simplicity of life. But in the course of time Jesus had formed a community of people who would live in holy obedience (always the most distinguishing characteristic of simplicity). Finally a people had been gathered who, when God said, “Wait,” would wait, when God said, “Go,” would go, when God said, “Give,” would give. Rugged men and women who had been seasoned by many failures and some successes, imperfect and ignorant of many things, they were nevertheless a prepared people. And God said, “Wait.” Disciplined, obedient, simple, they waited. And the fire fell.
The report of the economic repercussions of that incendiary life burning throughout the fellowship still throbs with joy and freedom: “And all who believed were together and had all things in common; and they sold their possessions and goods and distributed them to all, as any had need” (Acts 2:44–45). The principle was that “as any had need” the others would share of their resources until the need was met.
There was a beautiful, almost unconscious integration of economic sharing with other Spiritual Disciplines, such as teaching and prayer: “And they devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers” (Acts 2:42). Barnabas became something of a paradigm of spontaneous generosity by selling a field to provide for the needs of the fellowship (Acts 4:36–37).
Please remember, we have no indication that what occurred in the early days of the Church was commanded or that it was even the right thing to do. This is not some pattern to be slavishly imitated. What we do see is an incredible freedom to experiment with practical ways to flesh out the meaning of love for God and neighbor. Under the authority of Christ these Spirit-filled Christians were freed to try new ways to love one another.
Isn’t this the model for us? Not a legal system, but a fresh freedom to discover what it means to live as Christ’s disciples together. And the caring we see in Acts gives us significant clues as to which direction the winds of the Spirit desire to blow in our day.
It is important for us to understand the interwoven connection between the fellowship’s economic liberality and divine power. In one breath we hear of “wonders and signs” being done by the apostles, and in the next breath we discover that “all who believed were together and had all things in common” (Acts 2:43–44). We read of the marvelous prayer meeting where the building shook and the people “were all filled with the Holy Spirit and spoke the word of God with boldness,” and in the very next verse we discover that “the company of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one said that any of the things which he possessed was his own, but they had everything in common” (Acts 4:31–32). As if that were not enough, the very next sentence once again takes up the theme of power: “And with great power the apostles gave their testimony to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and great grace was upon them all” (Acts 4:33). And the next verse echoes their generous sharing. And on it goes, back and forth, interwoven like a tapestry, braided together like a rope.
These passages are not meant to be a systematic theology, and I have no desire to squeeze some kind of normative teaching from them that is universally binding upon the Church. What I am trying to express is that these people were being taken over by the life of the Spirit, which transformed them at every point. They were living on a new level of experience. Signs and wonders and miracles of all kinds abounded. The power of the Holy Spirit was felt and seen. And in the context of that wonderful outpouring of God’s life, the sharing of resources was free and generous. And why not? People were being healed, relationships righted, servant leadership exhibited. To be quite honest about it, sharing is not difficult when the power of God is manifest in the midst of his people. His mighty hand and outstretched arm are there to sustain them. Who is there to fear? What better economic security could they have? And if there is ever any instance of deception, as was the case with Ananias and Sapphira, it is cared for quickly through spiritual discernment and the power of God (Acts 5:1–11).
Sometimes people find the joyous sharing of the Jerusalem church hard to believe. The reason is understandable: they have never seen anything like it in their own experience. But in my small way, and through my limited experience, I want to testify to this reality. When the dynamic presence of God breaks in upon a sufficiently prepared people, there is an unguarded sharing that is thrilling, almost frightening. I stress the need for sufficient preparation because, as with the early experiences of the disciples, it is possible to know mighty experiences of God’s power without those experiences having a lasting impact on the self-centered nature (compare for example, Luke 9:1 with 9:54). But when a people are gathered who live under the cross and in holy obedience, then the incendiary power of the Holy Spirit can ignite everything, including all economic relationships.
By now you may be wondering, []“Why all this talk about miracles, divine power, and spiritual preparation? Can’t we just get on with the business of simplifying our lifestyles without all the God-talk?” I answer that you are welcome to try, and God help you—because you will sorely need it. Although I deeply empathize with this “holy impatience” to get on with the task, the clear witness of Scripture is that something beyond good intentions and willpower is needed to transform our egocentric, greed-captivated personalities into an all-inclusive community of loving, sharing persons.
There once was a time when I urged simplicity of life upon people indiscriminately. I would cajole, shove, and push, and often they would indeed change their lifestyle; but I found that it was all quite destructive. I discovered that simplicity is just another anxiety-laden burden until people have experienced God’s gracious power to provide them with daily bread. Only as kingdom power breaks in are we free to live in trust.
Have you not found it so? Perhaps out of concern for the terrible inequities in the world, you have sought to open your heart and your pocketbook to needy brothers and sisters. Perhaps you have led the fight for certain causes of compassion in your church and community. You may even have attempted a common purse or some other form of economic sharing. But somehow, deep down inside, it all seems so dry and artificial. There is no oil of the Spirit to heal wounded relationships. Giving is done, but it lacks warmth and vibrancy. Like Moses of old you see the oppression of the people, but also like Moses you try the arm of flesh and find it failing you as it did him. For all the good that has been done, you have the uneasy sense that something central is lacking. Could it be that we need to follow the lead of the disciples, who through bitter experience were taught that their first priority was to seek hard after the kingdom of God, and who found that once baptized into its life and power they were liberated to care for one another in unprecedented ways?
Freedom to Surrender Our Rights
The attractive ability to surrender our rights for the good of others is central to everything about simplicity. This reality burst forth repeatedly in the experience of the early Christian community. It was based firmly upon the example of Christ, who, though rich, for our sakes became poor, and was “obedient to death, even death on a cross” (2 Cor. 8:9; Phil. 2:8).
Consider the compassionate manner in which the problem of the neglected Hellenistic widows was resolved (Acts 6:1–7). The Hellenists were Greek-speaking Jews who were quite different culturally from their Hebrew counterparts. Evidently in the rush of activities, the Greek-speaking widows were overlooked in the daily distribution of food and other goods. No doubt the oversight was completely unintentional, but it produced the potential for a serious split among the early Christians. But under the mighty power of the Spirit it was resolved in the most tender fashion. Wisely, the apostles refrained from arbitrating the matter and asked that seven men from within the Jerusalem church be chosen who were filled with the Holy Spirit and wisdom. So tender, so gracious was the spirit of this group that all seven who were chosen were from the aggrieved party—every single one of them had a Greek name! The Hebrew believers had given up their own rights. They did not have to have things their own way. They were released from greedy, self-serving one-upmanship. And because this freedom from self-interest abounded among them, the widows were cared for, justice prevailed, severed relationships were healed.
How heartening and how instructive! It is an example of simplicity of heart at its best. Perhaps, like me, you have often longed for an increase in this ability to lay down the terrible burden of always needing to get your own way. Often you have prayed for its enlargement among the Christian fellowship. Doesn’t our own failure make the Spirit-led experience of that pristine community all the more impressive? And the result is so uplifting: “And the word of God increased; and the number of the disciples multiplied greatly” (Acts 6:7).
This principle of giving way for the good of others is at the heart of Paul’s ethical teaching. He counseled the believers at Corinth that, whenever there was a grievance among them, they should give in to each other rather than disgrace the name of Christ by taking the matter to a court of law. He queried, []“Why not rather suffer wrong? Why not rather be defrauded?” (1 Cor. 6:7). And why not? Christ suffered wrong for us and we are called to “follow in his steps…. When he was reviled, he did not revile in return; when he suffered he did not threaten; but he trusted to him who judges justly” (1 Pet. 2:21, 23).
Paul had earned the credentials to urge the Corinthians to surrender their own rights for the good of Christ and his kingdom. He had done exactly the same among them. He had every right to receive financial support during the one and one-half years that he ministered among them. Pointedly he asked them, “Do we not have the right to our food and drink?…If we have sown spiritual good among you, is it too much if we reap your material benefits? If others share this rightful claim upon you, do not we still more?” Of course he did, and he knew it and they knew it. But he added, “Nevertheless, we have not made use of this right, but we endure anything rather than put an obstacle in the way of the Gospel of Christ” (1 Cor. 9:4, 11–12). Rather than take advantage of his legitimate claim upon them, he provided for his needs through tent-making so that the word of Christ might abound in Corinth.
Having given these two examples, I hasten to warn that they can be easily twisted and turned into a new law that binds rather than liberates. I hope we will resist the temptation. There may well be times when going to court is the right and good thing to do, and often support for Gospel ministry should be freely given and graciously received. Paul was not giving a law but setting forth a perception into exactly how we can prefer one another in love (Rom. 12:10).
For Paul, the reason for acquiring money was not to build a nest egg but so he could share with others in need (Eph. 4:28). He urged the Corinthian believers to excel in giving to the Macedonian relief fund for the Christians at Jerusalem (2 Cor. 8). James urged merchants to subordinate their buying and selling to the greater purposes of God. He wanted them to see that life was larger than business deals and accumulated wealth. He counseled perspective: “What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes” ( James 4:14).
Both Peter and Paul encouraged the practice of hospitality, which as any homemaker knows often involves considerable inconvenience for the sake of others (1 Pet. 4:9; Rom. 12:13; 1 Tim. 3:2, 1:8). James made it quite clear that if we discover brothers or sisters who are ill clad and lack daily food, we must give them what they need ( James 2:14–17).
We are told in John’s first Epistle that Christ laid down his life for us and that we ought to lay down our lives for one another. John then proceeded to describe in a concrete way how we are to lay down our lives for each other: “If anyone has the world’s goods and sees his brother in need, yet closes his heart against him, how does God’s love abide in him?” (1 John 3:17). The question is obviously a rhetorical one. God’s love is made flesh through these simple, practical deeds in which we “by love serve one another” (Gal. 5:13, KJV).
Note how over and over the interest of others is the controlling principle. Banished is the obsession to demand one’s own rights. Uppermost is the good of the fellowship and the advancement of Christ’s kingdom.
The Scandalous Invitation
Jesus Christ and all the writers of the New Testament call us to break free of mammon lust and live in joyous trust. Their radical criticism of wealth is combined with a spirit of unconditional generosity. They point us toward a way of living in which everything we have we receive as a gift, and everything we have is cared for by God, and everything we have is available to others when it is right and good. This reality frames the heart of Christian simplicity. It is the means of liberation and power to do what is right and to overcome the forces of fear and avarice.
In our consideration of the Old Testament law of tithing, I promised to deal with the reason why none of the New Testament writers ever made the tithe the basis for Christian giving. That fact is quite conspicuous and quite startling, especially in the case of Paul. The relief fund for Jerusalem would have given him ample opportunity and reason to insist upon the tithe if he had wanted to make it normative. Why did Jesus, Paul, and all the apostles refrain from making use of that well-established biblical tradition?
Now that you have read through the New Testament witness to simplicity, and specifically its statements on wealth, the answer to that question is probably obvious to you. The tithe simply is not a sufficiently radical concept to embody the carefree unconcern for possessions that marks life in the kingdom of God. Jesus Christ is the Lord of all our goods, not just 10 percent. It is quite possible to obey the law of the tithe without ever dealing with our mammon lust. We can feel that our monthly check to our church meets the new law of Jesus, and never once root out reigning covetousness and greed. It is quite possible to tithe and at the same time oppress the poor and needy. Jesus thundered against the Pharisees, “Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you tithe mint and dill and cumin, and have neglected the weightier matters of the law, justice and mercy and faith; these you ought to have done, without neglecting the others” (Matt. 23:23). Mint, dill, and cumin were herbs of the kitchen garden, and hence any tithe on them would be infinitesimally small. How tragic to be meticulously trivial in the tithe and blind to justice and mercy and faith.
No doubt you noted that Jesus did not condemn the tithe as such: “These you ought to have done, without neglecting the others.”* The tithe is not necessarily evil; it simply cannot provide a sufficient base for Jesus’s call to carefree unconcern over provision. It fails to dethrone the rival god of materialism. It can never bring the freedom and liberality which are to characterize economic fellowship among the children of the kingdom. Perhaps the tithe can be a beginning way to acknowledge God as the owner of all things, but it is only a beginning and not an ending.
When Jesus watched the voluntary offerings made in the temple treasury, he was moved by the sacrificial gift of the poor widow. What was it about her giving that touched him so? Jesus’s comment on that simple act was, “For they all contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, her whole living” (Mark 12:44).
Her giving had a certain reckless abandon to it. She evidenced an undivided devotion that fulfilled the command to love God with all the heart, soul, mind, and strength. In fact, in Mark’s Gospel this story follows closely on the heels of the two great commandments, as if to be a commentary upon them. A simple act, but one that crystallized the Christian witness. Here was a woman free from idolatry to mammon, devoid of greed and avarice. Here was a person in whom extravagant giving exceeded prudent thrift. Here was a widow, helpless and defenseless, who had learned to trust the Father in heaven for her needs day by day, one who sought first the kingdom of God and his righteousness. Dare we follow her lead?