The old adage, “Charity begins at home,” is not a trite sound bite. The home should be the school for life, and anyone who would love others must first love his brother. Sweet reasonableness, common (increasingly uncommon) kindness, and old-fashioned charity need to be practiced in everyday experiences of life before they can be shown to strangers.
Richard Sheridan quoted the phrase critically in The School for Scandal: “Rowley: I believe there is no sentiment he has such faith in as that ‘charity begins at home.’ Sir Oliver Surface: And his, I presume, is of that domestic sort which never stirs abroad at all.”
But charity isn’t a homebody. The One whose secret name is Love left home to come to this forlorn planet that had cut itself loose from its Maker. Charity walked the rough roadway from Bethlehem to Nazareth, from Nazareth to Jerusalem, and on to Gethsemane, Gabbatha, and Golgotha. Love starts at home but can’t stay home when it knows there is need outside its door.
“Love has a hem to its garment
That reaches the very dust;
It reaches the stains of the streets and lanes,
And because it can, it must.”
Charity has fallen on hard times. Somehow it has come to mean heartless big business disguised as a nonprofit corporation for its own benefit; or supercilious, well-publicized acts of self-promotion demeaning to the recipient; or merely a means of salving the consciences of overindulgent Westerners. But in Bible thinking, it is a code word for love, for sacrificial living which bears itself out in sacrificial giving. It is Godlike, a sampling of the ultimate, indescribable Gift who wrapped His giving in flesh and ribboned it in the scarlet of His own precious blood.
The Western church is surfeited with wealth. Even the poorest among us would be members of the upper class in many countries. Yet how seldom do we hear exhortations such as these: “Godliness with contentment is great gain. For we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out. And having food and raiment let us be therewith content. But they that will be rich fall into temptation and a snare, and into many foolish and hurtful lusts, which drown men in destruction and perdition. For the love of money is the root of all evil: which while some coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows. But thou, O man of God, flee these things; and follow after righteousness, godliness, faith, love, patience, meekness” (1 Tim. 6:6-11).
Do we plead that we are not guilty of the love of money, that we have been abundantly blessed without seeking for such bounty? Paul does not allow us to escape: “Charge them that are rich in this world, that they be not highminded, nor trust in uncertain riches, but in the living God, who giveth us richly all things to enjoy; that they do good, that they be rich in good works, ready to distribute, willing to communicate; laying up in store for themselves a good foundation against the time to come, that they may lay hold on eternal life” (1 Tim. 6:17-19).
We are not called to judge how others are handling their stewardship, but we are to assess our own. Is there need among the household of faith elsewhere in the world? Tremendous need. Are there dangers in sending provisions to Christians in Third World countries? Of course. We do not wish to foolishly do damage to believers’ dependence on the Lord, to make them look West instead of looking up in time of need. We understand the dangers of making “rice Christians” who profess salvation only for handouts from gullible churches. We can unwittingly cause power struggles in foreign assemblies by placing resources in the hands of some. And we can cause those benefitting from our largesse to look like capitalists or even western spies in the eyes of oppressive regimes. Yes, there are problems, but…
Someday will the Master have to say, “Inasmuch as ye did it not to one of the least of these, ye did it not to Me”?