1.  Caring for the created world.

A few years ago I saw a movie titled “Food, Inc” about the food industry. It’s pretty rough in its presentation of how we mass produce our food – especially chickens and beef and pork. The images of pigs so large they cannot move in their pens and chickens so heavy they cannot stand is not pleasant.

Did you know?

– Chickens are being raised in half the time they were in 1950s (49 days vs. 3 months), but even in half the time they are ending up twice as big (thanks to growth hormones, among other things)

– People like white meat so scientists have managed to redesign the chicken to have bigger breasts.

– A Tyson Chicken farmer says the chickens never even see sunlight – they are kept day and night in chicken houses with no windows.

– When chickens (with the help of growth hormones) grow from a baby chic to a 5.5 lb chicken in 7 weeks the bones can’t keep up with growth – which means some can’t handle weight that they are carrying so when they try to take a few steps they fall down.

– Corn is cheap (and also helps make the chickens fat quickly) so it has allowed us to drive down the price of meat – over 200lbs of meat per person per year would not be possible without this diet of cheap grain.

Upton Sinclair wrote The Jungle in the early years of the 20th century about the meat packing industry in Chicago. It was a revelation about how animals and workers were treated. As he said later, “I aimed at the public’s heart, and by accident I hit it in the stomach.”

“They had chains which they fastened about the leg of the nearest hog, and the other end of the chain they hooked into one of the rings upon the wheel. So, as the wheel turned, a hog was suddenly jerked off his feet and borne aloft. At the same instant the ear was assailed by a most terrifying shriek; the visitors started in alarm, the women turned pale and shrank back. The shriek was followed by another, louder and yet more agonizing–for once started upon that journey, the hog never came back; at the top of the wheel he was shunted off upon a trolley and went sailing down the room. And meantime another was swung up, and then another, and another, until there was a double line of them, each dangling by a foot and kicking in frenzy–and squealing. The uproar was appalling, perilous to the ear-drums; one feared there was too much sound for the room to hold–that the walls must give way or the ceiling crack. There were high squeals and low squeals, grunts, and wails of agony; there would come a momentary lull, and then a fresh outburst, louder than ever, surging up to a deafening climax. It was too much for some of the visitors–the men would look at each other, laughing nervously, and the women would stand with hands clenched, and the blood rushing to their faces, and the tears starting in their eyes. Meantime, heedless of all these things, the men upon the floor were going about their work. Neither squeals of hogs nor tears of visitors made any difference to them; one by one they hooked up the hogs, and one by one with a swift stroke they slit their throats. There was a long line of hogs, with squeals and life-blood ebbing away together; until at last each started again, and vanished with a splash into a huge vat of boiling water. It was all so very businesslike that one watched it fascinated. It was pork-making by machinery, pork-making by applied mathematics. And yet somehow the most matter-of-fact person could not help thinking of the hogs; they were so innocent, they came so very trustingly; and they were so very human in their protests–and so perfectly within their rights! They had done nothing to deserve it; and it was adding insult to injury, as the thing was done here, swinging them up in this cold-blooded, impersonal way, without a pretense at apology, without the homage of a tear. Now and then a visitor wept, to be sure; but this slaughtering-machine ran on, visitors or no visitors. It was like some horrible crime committed in a dungeon, all unseen and unheeded, buried out of sight and of memory.”

Of course, you can go to the extreme and follow the underlying theme of the movie “Noah”. The world would be better off without us.

But for me, this is caring about the place I live and not so much caring for the entire created world. There is not much I can do – other than give money – to activities around the world but what can be done where I live to care for the created world? I like the way Wendell Berry put it when a woman who had just heard one of his readings exclaimed, “I just love the environment.” Berry, in his 80-year-old Kentucky drawl, says he wanted to respond, “No, you don’t. We tend to name the things we love.” He’s right. Names change everything.” It’s better to be particular in these things and not global.

The Christian conservation ministry, A Rocha, has been around for years but it is only just now that the conservative evangelical community is listening to them – and that is mostly a result of changing generations. Millennials care as much or more about the environment as they do adequate parking. We were just out in Los Angeles and went to services at Mosaic in Hollywood and I can assure you they care far more about amplifiers and large speakers than they do adequate parking. Back to the point.

A Rocha has developed a curriculum for churches based on Robert Campbell’s book: You Are Here: Right Down To The Dirt.

“The question that must be addressed, therefore, is not how to care for the planet, but how to care for each of the planet’s millions of human and natural neighborhoods, each of its millions of small pieces and parcels of land, each one which is in some precious way different from all the others. Our understandable wish to preserve the planet must somehow be reduced to the scale of our competence—that is, to the wish to preserve all of its humble households and neighborhoods.”

The same is true for the place. It is good to care about the environment, but caring for “the environment” is like wanting to reach 500 nameless, faceless people with the Gospel. It is part of God’s plan for the local church to care for the specific and named local stream, birds, fish and trees. You are God’s people in the right place for the job. You can know the people and the place where you live, you can know its unique glory and specific troubles. You can know your neighbors, theirs stories, their hopes and their pains. You can bring the good news of Jesus and the new life that Jesus gave you to them in a way that no one else can. You can know the meadow and the creek and the animals that live in them, the challenges to their survival. You can help. You can put people and place back together. This is the kind of impact that a local church can have that no one else can have because God has placed us. This is why it is such good news that you are here.”

What can be done here to care for God’s created world?

2.  The second part of the lesson is on being financial stewards – caring for the resource of wealth.

I like to think about it as two stories in Scripture: The Rich Fool in Luke 12 and The Parable of the Talents in Matthew 25.

In the first, the fool says, basically, “Look at me. I am so fat I can barely move in my pen. I wonder if I should build a bigger pen?” In the end he loses his soul…and his life. As I’ve said before, he stopped living long before he was dead.

In the second, the productive servant becomes a part of God’s work in the world. It’s about accomplishment and not accumulation.

Think of money as paint. It is something to be used and not simply stored up. We can use it in three ways:

– Paintball – it’s a weapon.

– Graffiti – it’s a way to mark what you own for the world to see. It’s a way to send a message about status, privilege and position.

– Art – it’s creative and long lasting. It produces a genuine good for generations.

Again, I would ask the question, “What can we do where we are to use money creatively and become partners in God’s work in this community – and not simply larger?”

3.  The third part of the lesson is caring for the poor. We could spend a whole lesson on any of these three!

For this, we can turn to the story of the sheep and goats in Matthew 25.

I like the way Ray Stedman teaches this story.

“The reaction of both the sheep and the goats to the Lord’s words is one of stunned surprise. They are completely taken aback by what he says. It is clearly evident that both groups expected a different basis of judgment. As they were being divided into one group or another they doubtless felt they knew the reason for the choice. Surely the sheep would feel that the basis was that of faith. There would be ringing in their ears all the great and marvelous words of Scripture declaring that justification before God is by faith alone. Can’t you see them waiting to come before the King, each one nervously reviewing his testimony, trying to recall the exact wording of the great promises on which he would rest all his hopes for this moment?

But the strange thing is, not one is ever given the chance to say a word. The issue is already settled. Each person is simply told to which group he belongs.

“Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’”

But of course the issue really is one of faith. The sheep are asked to take their place on the right hand of the throne because all through their lives their genuine faith has been producing its inevitable fruit of good works. Unthinkingly, unconsciously, born of love for Jesus Christ, they have been responding to the pleas and the needs of those about them. They kept no records, they expected no praise. For them it has been a glad privilege. They were unaware they were doing anything unusual, but found a real delight in meeting the needs of others. There was no hardship involved. They felt it was a continuing joy to be permitted to minister in Christ’s name. But not one deed performed in that way has ever escaped the eye of their watching Lord. There is no need for him to examine them. They had laid up abundant treasure in heaven.

But the goats are equally surprised. They, too, are caught off guard by this basis of judgment: “Then they also will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not minister to you?”

Yet they may have guessed even more closely than the sheep the true basis for judgment. Very likely they are sure that it is good works. They know that God is interested in the poor, the down-trodden, the oppressed, and they are all ready for him. Already they have been making long mental lists of the many times they have ministered to those in need about them. They can recall detailed descriptions of what they did. They can total up large sums of money given, complete with income tax receipts. No doubt the amount of money so expended is terribly impressive, for as someone has remarked, it takes a great deal of philanthropy to deodorize a fortune! They have even put in long hours working for charity, fighting for racial equality, or protesting sub-standard housing. To these self-justifying persons the King replies: “Truly, I say to you, as you did it not to one of the least of these, you did it not to me.”

In other words, each has practiced a particular form of behavior for so long that it has become a character trait and invisible to them. Those on the right stopped being aware of their attitude and actions long ago and have become kind. Those on the left have given but never become kind. They have kept score and meticulous records but their hearts have not changed. Giving to a non-profit that does good things is not the same as making these things part of your nature and character.

The attitude of the Church toward the poor has changed over thousands of years. It has moved through stages.

I read an essay years ago by Suzanne Roberts on the relationship between poverty and the Church from the earliest Christian community to the 19th century. It is the process she calls the “secularization of charity” and it is occurs in six stages:

– First the majority of Christians were poor and shared what they had.

– Second the Church glorified the poor and those who chose poverty.

– Third the Church cared for the poor and included them in the community.

– Fourth the Church and society began to discriminate between the deserving and undeserving poor.

– Fifth the Church and society began to treat the poor as dangerous and poverty as a curse.

– Sixth the Church and society came to see poverty and the poor as a problem to be fixed by a new form of charity that would be more objective and efficient. We must eliminate poverty altogether.

You can see where that leads. The war on poverty becomes a war on people in the end.

I’m not a bleeding heart. In fact, I think the Jewish philosopher, Maimonides, was right in his eight step Ladder of Charity:

1. The lowest: Giving begrudgingly and making the recipient feel disgraced or embarrassed.

2. Giving cheerfully but giving too little.

3. Giving cheerfully and adequately but only after being asked.

4. Giving before being asked.

5. Giving when you do not know who is the individual benefiting, but the recipient knows your identity.

6. Giving when you know who is the individual benefiting, but the recipient does not know your identity.

7. Giving when neither the donor nor the recipient is aware of the other’s identity.

8. The Highest: Giving money, a loan, your time or whatever else it takes to enable an individual to be self-reliant.

The story of the sheep and the goats is not about salvation by good works. It is not about the importance of giving to non-profits that take care of the poor for us. It is about our becoming people who are compassionate, kind and attentive ourselves.

So, what can we do where we live to do that?

What can we do here in Tyler to care for creation, to be creative and productive with our wealth and to care for the poor in such a way that our very natures are changed?