After returning his commission to the Continental Congress at Annapolis, Maryland, George Washington hastened home and arrived at Mount Vernon on Christmas Eve, 1783.  He returned to the life he preferred and loved – the life of a farmer.  He was as successful at the head of a plantation as he was at the head of an army or a nation.  Washington was a genius of practicality, diversifying his crops, and his money-making endeavors successfully, and before anyone of his contemporaries did.  He expected the same kind of practicality and efficiency from his employees.  But, practical man that he was, he also understood that not everyone possessed his self-control, and self-possession.

           Washington had a gifted gardener at Mount Vernon named Phillip Bater whom he discharged not long after returning in 1783, because of Bater’s chronic drunkenness.*  A few weeks later when Bater humbly reapplied for the job Washington drew up a probationary agreement, which allowed for certain periods of excessive alcohol consumption.  Phillip Bater was not, at any time to “suffer himself to be disguised with liquor, except on the times hereafter mentioned…(he will be allowed) Four dollars at Christmas with which he may be drunk 4 days and 4 nights; 2 dollars at Easter to effect the same purpose; two dollars at Whitsuntide to be drunk 2 days; a Dram in the morning, and a drink of Grog at dinner or at noon.”  This compromise evidently worked, for no other reference of his being fired for drunkenness is recorded.

            Part of me really admires Washington for managing Mr. Bater’s alcoholism this way.  He was allowed three binges a year (did you notice they are all scheduled for religious holidays?), and two doses of the hair of the dog that bit him every day in between.  But, of course, this was only managing an addiction, not conquering it.

            When it comes to the “sin which easily besets” I imagine we all have tried, do try to self-diagnose, self-medicate, self-accommodate, make probationary agreements with ourselves – which is a way of conceding to sin.

            God does not expect that we will be sinless (I John 1.5-2.2) but He does expect us to triumph over sin (Romans 6).  He expects this of us because He has redeemed us from sin (I Peter 1.18), and provides continual cleansing from sin (I John 1.7).  This process of cleansing – sanctification, is accomplished by God Himself (Hebrews 2.11 10.10, I Peter 1.2).  When Jesus tells us in Matthew 5.48, to be “perfect, as our Heavenly Father is perfect,” he is calling us to a life dominated by righteousness, not by sin.  It is a life God Himself accomplishes in us.

            Such a life cannot be accomplished if we make arrangements to accommodate sin.  A sin conceded to is a sin not repented of, and thus remains a sin unforgiven.  In James Hilton’s grand book, Lost Horizon, an idyllic community, Shangri-La, is discovered tucked away in the Himalayas.  They enjoy an idyllic life by observing moderation in all things – even truth telling, marital fidelity, and sobriety.  Shangri-La is the kind of place where Phillip Bater would be given his beer money.  Shrangri-La is a fiction.  So is the notion that accommodating sin is ever the right thing to do.

            God expects us to be more than conquerors.  “How shall we who are dead to sin live any longer in it?” (Romans 6.2).

*General Washington’s Christmas Farewell, by Stanley Weintraub, Free Press 2003. Pp.145-146

It was Christmas Eve and retired trooper Bob Welch was alone at home now as his kids had long since grown up and were gone from the house and his wife had passed away. The holiday season is good for bringing to mind old memories of past seasons and as he sat in his easy chair, he began reminiscing about some of those long past Christmas Eves.

He said that his wife usually did most of the holiday things for the family as he was usually working. One of those memories was the Christmas Eve when he was dispatched to the scene of a terrible accident wherein a woman was killed. And then he was tasked with having to make the "next of kin" notification. (Trust me, this is one part of the job you do not relish having to do)

He drove to the family’s address and knocked on the door. A little girl about 4 years old answered it and said, "I’m Sue McKay." He asked if her daddy was home and after a pause, she said "my daddy ran away." She wanted to know if he was Santa Claus because her mother had told her if she stayed in bed, Santa Claus would come and bring her a doll.

That night, he went against the rules and did not call Child Protective Services. Instead, he took her home to his wife who cleaned her up, put her into bed and then wrapped up a doll for her to open the next morning. She was later adopted by a loving family and they moved away from the area. He said that he had never forgotten that Christmas Eve and little Sue McKay.

He recalled working another Christmas Eve in a severe blizzard and he happened upon a family who’s car had slid off the icy highway into a ditch and was stuck. He said that it was by "the grace of God" that he happened to come down that road and find them that night, very cold and very scared. He took them to a motel where they were able to spend the night safely.

Then he remembered one other rainy Christmas Eve when he found a homeless man standing by the highway trying to catch a ride. It seemed pretty apparent that he’d never get a ride on this night so he picked the man up and took him to a diner down the road and left him where he could get dry and warm and gave him $5 to get some food.

He said that it’s strange when later you’re all alone and you get to thinking about those past occasions and about all that you’ve done with your life. You think about God, and your wife, and your family. About the job and the career you had and you ask yourself, "Was it worth it all? Did I do good? If I could live my life over, would I do it the same way? "

Then he heard a knock on his front door. It’s late, who could possibly be at his house? He answered the door and had a sudden fright as he saw a uniformed State Trooper standing there with a solemn appearance. His immediate thought was, "Oh no, who has died tonight?" It briefly crossed his mind that maybe this was some sort of "pay back" for some of the wrongs he’d done in his life.

Then he noticed the trooper was a girl and she smiled and held out her hand and at the same time he saw a tear run down her cheek. She said, "I’m sure you don’t remember me, but God bless you. I’m Trooper Sue McKay."

I have to admit that I got emotional when I heard that story as all of us who spent a career in law enforcement can relate to a lot of tragedies, especially while working on holidays. But, the reason I chose to use this story is to use it as sort of a parable. To lay it alongside our lives, so to speak.

Read more: No Good Deed....

          Last week Teresa and I were stuck, seemingly forever, at Midway Airport in Chicago. It seemed like a hundred thousand others were sharing our entropy and panic.  We all stood in lines for three and four hours to book flights that were immediately cancelled.  Some flights had pilots but no crew, crews but no pilot, crews and pilots but no aircraft. I thought, “I’ve read Dante and this would be a better 7th level of hell than the one he described.” So many flights to Dulles had been cancelled that we booked one to Raleigh, NC. “Just get me east of the Mississippi, South of the Mason/Dixon Line, and out of Chicago…” I begged.  We got out pretty quickly, compared to others – we only had four flights cancelled and got on the only flight out of Midway to Dulles for three days. Some folks are there still – like that guy Tom Hanks played in Terminal.

            Many guys in my line of work would get a really entertaining monologue out of the experience and inject it with just enough pathos and brief scripture references to justify it as a sermon.  I’ve always been leery of feigning the voice of Spaulding Gray or Garrison Keillor in the pulpit – but I think there was one preacher from the past who would have really mined this experience for some weighty nuggets of truth.

            Max Cleveland was the first preacher whose preaching I remember.  He was the preacher at the Ceredo (WV) Church of Christ when I was in elementary school.  He looked like Martin Van Buren (with shorter hair) and had a voice as big as Paul Harvey’s.  What I remember about him was how vivid he was. He did a sermon against smoking cigarettes one time and, holding a piece of chalk up he kept saying, “Why would you be a slave to something this small?” Once, using the same piece of chalk he said, “I’m going to draw a hypocrite.” Then he made one point on the chalk board and said “That’s just about the size of a hypocrite.”

            If Max were preaching that sermon, he would have pointed out how all us weary travelers had it better than most people in the world – we had heat, potable water, secure surroundings.  Think of the refugee camps around the world and those who are without clean water – think of the thousands in that very city who were cold, hungry, and afraid. Max would have preached that.

            Max would have told us to think about how we were all trying to get out of what we considered a hellish situation but most folks seem eager to run headlong into actual hell.  Max would have preached that, too.

            Finally, Max would have preached that unlike the flights out of Midway Airport – so uncertain, so easily cancelled, so dependent on the human factor –our salvation is sure. Unlike the travelers who have to keep checking the board to discover the status of their flight, we may know that we are saved.

            And he would have been right and Biblical on all counts.

The common perception by people – both within and outside of the religious world – is that churches are charitable organizations designed to help the poor. Denominational churches spend much time, energy, and money helping the poor. Those who are in need (or claim to be in need) often visit churches seeking a handout.

We are certainly to be concerned for the poor (Galatians 2:10; Ephesians 4:28; James 2:15-17) and, as we have opportunity (Galatians 6:10), help those with legitimate needs (cf. 2 Thessalonians 3:10 – “If anyone is not willing to work, then he is not to eat, either”). But the Lord’s church is not a charity. He did not design or ordain it to be one. Instead, He designed and ordained the church for another purpose that is far more important than mere benevolence.

When John sent some of his disciples to find evidence that Jesus was the promised Messiah (Matthew 11:2-3), one of the proofs that Jesus cited was that “the poor have the gospel preached to them” (Matthew 11:5). Jesus did not mention feeding the poor, clothing them, or giving them money. Instead, the proof offered to John’s disciples for Jesus’ identity was that the poor were taught the good news of salvation.
There is no record in the gospels of Jesus ever giving money to those who asked for it. Was this because Jesus lacked compassion? Of course not! Yes, there were times when Jesus fed the crowds that followed Him (Matthew 14:14-21; 15:32-38) – not because they were poor, but because they were present. But His emphasis was always on teaching. Because of this, many who were seeking free food “withdrew and were not walking with Him anymore” (John 6:26, 60-66).

When Peter met the lame beggar at the temple gate, he did not give him a handout, even though we might agree that this man was certainly one who would have been worthy of assistance. Notice what Luke records: “When he saw Peter and John about to go into the temple, he began asking to receive alms. But Peter, along with John, fixed his gaze on him and said, ‘Look at us!’ And he began to give them his attention, expecting to receive something from them. But Peter said, ‘I do not possess silver or gold, but what I do have I give to you: In the name of Jesus Christ the Nazarene—walk!’ And seizing him by the right hand, he raised him up; and immediately his feet and his ankles were strengthened. With a leap he stood upright and began to walk; and he entered the temple with them, walking and leaping and praising God” (Acts 3:3-8).

Peter did not give the lame beggar at the temple a handout. Instead, Peter gave him what he had – the power to heal him. We cannot perform miracles like this today. But why did miracles exist then? They were done in order to confirm the word spoken in the preaching of the gospel (Mark 16:20). So, after healing the lame man, Peter preached and many more than just this one man believed. Luke tells us that “the number of the men [who believed] came to be about five thousand” (Acts 4:4). Although it is not explicitly stated in the text, it is likely that the lame man was among the new believers since he was “with them” in the temple and “praising God” (Acts 3:8). Though this man had a legitimate financial need and could have used a handout from Peter and John, he received something that was far more valuable – the opportunity to hear the gospel of Christ.

Jesus said, “You always have the poor with you” (Matthew 26:11). Though we may want to help, we will not always be able to help the poor with their material needs. But who else will we always have with us? Sinners. They will exist in far greater numbers, too. We need to direct the efforts of the church, not to helping the poor, but to teaching the lost and building up those who are already saved.*

As individuals, we cannot help everyone we find who is in need or give money to everyone who asks for it. But we can teach them of the blessings of righteousness and the reward for faithful service to Christ.

None of what I have written in this article is meant to minimize the importance of benevolence (as it is practiced according to the New Testament pattern), or to say that we should be unconcerned with the plight of the poor. Rather, it is meant to remind us of what is truly and eternally important – the state of the souls of men. To help with this, what we need is not anything that can be bought with money. We need “the gospel…the power of God for salvation” (Romans 1:16). The greatest help we can give to the poor (and anyone else) is to preach the gospel to them.

The Lord does not expect us to give people everything they want. But He has equipped us to give them everything they need. While we can and should “do good to all people” (Galatians 6:10) through the work of benevolence, we must be ready to give the poor (and all men) what they truly need – the word of God “which is able to save [their] souls” (James 1:21).