Window on the World

We the people

By John Halford

VERSAILLES, Indiana—One of the advantages of being a worldwide church—in fact as well as in name—is that it brings home events around the world in a personal way.

For example, what was one of the first things you thought about when you heard about the July 7 bomb attack in London?

It was probably something like “I hope none of our people are affected.” Then, on hearing the reports from England that none of “our” members or their relatives were killed or hurt, you felt a wave of relief.

Isn’t that rather selfish? Scores were killed and hundreds injured. Why should we feel even a little bit better because none of us were hurt?

Or think back to last December, when so many people lost their lives and livelihoods in the tsunami that swept across the Indian Ocean. Only about 500 members of our church live in the countries ravaged by the tsunami—about 0.00015 percent of the population. But when we heard the report that none of them were drowned we were relieved.

Some lost property, and our church sent generous relief to help them get back on their feet. It was the same when the hurricane hit Grenada last year, or the 9/11 tragedy.

Whenever or wherever a disaster hits, we immediately want to know if our people have been affected. And if they are, our church’s response is immediate and generous.

To focus concern on such a small number when so many are suffering seems rather self-centered, doesn’t it? Well, it can be, but it need not be. Let’s talk about it.

Very elect

Some religious people get caught up in their identity as the very elect or the only true believers, and their weltanschauung becomes distorted.

That’s a good German word for which we have no exact equivalent in English. It means how you view the world and its events. You can become so wrapped up with your group’s special role that everything and anything can only be seen from your perspective.

An unhealthy emphasis on the significance of “our people” can lead to some bizarre behavior.

Taken to the extreme, this way of looking at things can cause people to head off to the wilderness or up a mountain, armed with a shotgun and a few weeks worth of supplies to wait for the end. They are obsessed with their personal survival.

As we saw at Jonestown and Waco, this can have tragic consequences. Nowhere does the Bible condone that kind of exclusivism.

However, focusing on the needs of “our people” can help us make sense of an otherwise overwhelming situation, and motivate us to behave in a constructive way.

Getting it in perspective

Sometimes a tragedy can be so shocking that we simply cannot take it in. I have traveled on the trains like those blown up in London hundreds of times. I still can’t quite imagine the horror of the situation. But I can imagine one of my British friends caught in it. Some travel on the London Transport system every day. There were some near misses—but thank God no one I knew was hurt.

Likewise, I cannot imagine more than 150,000 drowned people. But I can imagine how I would feel if I heard that some of my Sri Lankan or Malaysian friends or their children had been swept out to sea by the tsunami.

I cannot contemplate whole regions devastated by floods—but I can picture the Galle Cricket Ground by the Indian Ocean in southern Sri Lanka, where I spent two happy and relaxing days two years ago with my Sri Lankan friend Mohan Jayasekera.

When I saw the pictures of where we sat enjoying the game now lying under several feet of water, and realized that almost certainly some of the people who shared the grandstand with us were dead, it helped make the tragedy personal. And it motivated me to want to help.

Giant centipedes

You can’t take in a massive disaster, but you can feel it in terms of people you know.

Christian writer G.K. Chesterton once pointed out that “[Jesus] did not love humanity, He never said He loved humanity; He loved men. Neither He nor anyone else can love humanity; it is like loving a gigantic centipede.”

Jesus did show his love for all people by how he treated those among his comparatively small circle of friends and acquaintances. We read of his relationship with Lazarus, or Mary Magdalene or his mother, and we know we can expect him to love us in the same way.

Before he was crucified he prayed not only for the people he had worked with, but also for those who would follow them.

We can take comfort from his patience with the quarreling disciples, his willingness to forgive the disloyal Peter or his gentle urging for Martha to get her priorities straight.

When, in the first century, the population of Jerusalem suffered from a famine, Paul worked hard to organize relief for “our people” there. The Jewish and gentile Christians had some doctrinal tensions between them, and Paul used the collection to develop a sense of unity and solidarity between the two (see Romans 15:25-27; 1 Corinthians 16:1-4; and 2 Corinthians 8:1-15).

He did not believe that the church members were the only ones who mattered—he taught that Christians must extend love to all people. But he was realistic: “Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people, especially to those who belong to the family of believers” (Galatians 6:10).

Loving everyone is a grand concept, but if that love is to be effective it needs to be focused. We can use our love of humanity as an excuse to avoid the responsibilities that come with close, personal relationships. People who claim they give to all charities often do not give very much at all.

Saying “I’m a Christian—I just don’t support any specific church” can be an excuse for avoiding the challenges of Christian fellowship. As philosopher Eric Hoffer said, “It is easier to love humanity as a whole than to love one’s neighbor.”

No solitary pursuit

Polecats and grizzly bears prefer to live apart from their own kind, but being a Christian is not a solitary pursuit. We need to belong to a group of like-minded people. And although those people should not think of themselves as exclusive, it is quite natural for them to consider each other in some ways special.

Some of the most remote tribes on earth had names for themselves, like Inuit or Ishi. And often, when the outsiders figured out the language, they learned that the name means simply “the people.”

We are no different. Although we know that the Body of Christ has many denominations, we still find ourselves referring to our own denomination as the church. And its members as our people. To slightly misquote James 2:18: “But someone will say: ‘You say you love humanity.’ Show me your love of humanity by what you do. I will show you my love of all people by what I do for those I know.”

So in a disaster, it is only natural for us to worry if our people are all right. Being a part of a denomination that is big enough to be worldwide, yet small enough to be a family helps us to focus our emotions and our compassion.

This can be encouraging for people caught up in difficult circumstances. Being one of our people can be lonely on a continent where you make up just 0.00015 percent of the population.

Knowing that you are backed by the concern, the prayers and if necessary the physical support of a worldwide family can motivate our people to reach out to those around them, who may find themselves truly alone and in need of support and friendship. Christian charity begins at home—but it shouldn’t stop there.

In Matthew 19:29, Jesus made an important promise: “Everyone who has given up houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or property, for my sake, will receive a hundred times as much in return and will have eternal life.”

We all have a part in making that happen. There are many lonely, needy people today. Many are closer than you might think.

God tells us he “sets the lonely in families” (Psalm 68:6). Maybe he could set some of them in your local branch of our worldwide family. So we the people must not forget to reach out to them, even as we reach out to our friends and fellow members on the other side of the world.