Giving that defeats poverty
Originally appeared on spirituality.com
If someone were poor, desperately poor, would inviting him or her to give away what little they had make them poorer still? Or could something enriching come from it? Could it even end their poverty? As I ponder these questions, I think of accounts I’ve come across in the Bible.
Consider this: the prophet Elijah, who regularly drew on his understanding of God’s power to remedy troubles, came across a widow so poor she was carrying out what she considered her last act. She was gathering kindling for a fire on which she’d cook a last meal for herself and her son. She expected them both to die.
What did Elijah do? He made a request that, at first glance, looks cruel. He asked her to give him bread first.
Was he really going to snatch their last morsel of food as they teetered on the brink of starvation? Or was there a higher message—one from God—that he aimed to get across: that God, the caring and loving parent of us all, has a message of assurance, a message of hope and of His ongoing care and provision for His children?
That message, which comes from Him to human consciousness everywhere, at all times, is woven throughout the entire Bible. It is spoken of in Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures by Mary Baker Eddy, a spiritual visionary who charted her own course out of years of poverty.
Mrs. Eddy wrote, “Christ is the true idea voicing good, the divine message from God to men speaking to the human consciousness.” Yes, Elijah lived long before Christ Jesus. But the message of the Christ is timeless.
When I read the story of Elijah and the widow, I see his request for bread coming out of a conviction that the divine message was real and transforming. There was enough—would be enough. The widow had come under a cloud of hopelessness. But somehow—and I think it had to do with the divine message of God’s care and provision getting through—her perspective changed.
And with that change of consciousness, her experience changed. Hope overpowered hopelessness. Instead of grimly anticipating poverty, starvation, and death, her view lifted, and her expectation brightened.
She complied with Elijah’s request. Suddenly, her store of food was not depleted but expanded. She had enough for Elijah, enough for herself and her son, enough for others in need. Giving defeated poverty.
Of course, the mere act of giving something away, as if it were a technique to get more, doesn’t in and of itself have any power to end poverty. But the change of consciousness where an individual gains a higher view of himself or herself as having something to give—as being the likeness of the divine Giver of all good—that does have poverty-ending power.
Was that what lay behind Elijah’s request? When Elijah asked for bread for himself, was he really aiming to lift the widow’s outlook, resurrect her thought to the altitude where she’d see herself not as impoverished, but as provisioned to give to others?
Would that same spiritual insight apply today? Nearly 30 years ago I lost my job. I couldn’t find work, and went broke.
As I was running out of savings, my sister and brother-in-law had me over every Sunday evening, fed me well, and sent me home with an enormous pot of soup that I nursed through the week, so I was at no risk of starving. But all my efforts to regain my footing professionally and financially failed. As the months rolled by, I hit new lows again and again.
A point that plagued me greatly was how self-centered my life had become. I wanted to give to others, but felt too poor to do so. The exception was the one hour each week when I taught a Sunday School class of teens. I don’t recall whether the story of Elijah and the widow was on my mind. But as I turned to the divine Giver, His message reached me and lifted me to a higher view of myself as His expression.
Then it occurred to me—I had something to give, and an avenue through which to give it. I knew a newspaper that ran a problem-solving column with a spiritual bent to it every day. I liked that it was always published anonymously. I sent something to the editor. He said it was okay and asked me to send more.
Before the second piece appeared in print (many others followed) I found a job, and remained employed for the next few years until I transitioned to my current career.
Thinking back, I believe that when my outlook lifted and I saw myself as having something to give, I didn’t have to focus on getting. I had what I needed—food, a roof over my head, a paycheck, a future. They were all there. Sure the “poverty” I faced was nothing like the experience of the poorest of the world’s poor. But I wonder: is the message of hope that came from God and rescued me applicable to anyone, no matter how extreme the need?
Stretches of hopelessness gradually gave way to moments of prayer-based conviction that God’s message of hope applied to me and to everyone. In the Bible story, Elijah had the conviction that God’s message of hope would lift the woman from hopelessness. In my story, in one sense, I got to be my own Elijah.
But how does that message of the Christ break through if there’s no “Elijah” around? What happens when it’s not just the hopelessness of those trapped in extreme poverty that needs healing, but also the hopelessness of well-off “first-worlders” who despair about ever winning the war on poverty?
A New Testament story—one I’d never before thought of in relation to fighting poverty—helped me sort this out.
After the crucifixion of Jesus, but before his resurrection was widely known, two of Jesus’ followers journeyed by foot to Emmaus, a small village about seven miles outside Jerusalem. They seemed overcome with hopelessness. Then the Master joined them. They were so sunk in defeat that they didn’t recognize him. They spoke to him about their hopes in the past tense: “We trusted that it had been he which should have redeemed Israel.”
Are well-off nations and individuals who need to lead the war on poverty anything like those disciples? Are they so overwhelmed by the enormity of the circumstances that they feel hopeless?
Remember: on their walk to Emmaus, the disciples felt hopeless when Christ was right before them. The message they needed was right there, and irresistibly broke in on them. That message of hope can lift aid workers higher to behold the needed resources, and give them the capacity to use them effectively.
Surely before Jesus’ departure, his words touched something so deep that the disciples’ hearts burned within them. Hopelessness vanished—and that’s important. Because a complete victory over poverty includes uplifting from despair both those who struggle and those who witness the struggle.
Nobody wants to be perceived as poor, ignorant, struggling. Those who’ve visited some of the most challenged regions in the war on poverty come back with compelling reports about how the locals are making entrepreneurial efforts, selling cloth, produce, and handmade goods. Underlying these efforts seems to be the conviction that they are not poor or hopeless, even though they look that way to many outsiders.
Perhaps this hints at the God-given capacity to give that each one of us has, no matter where on the planet we live. That’s what God’s message of hope—the message of the Christ—empowers each of us to express.
The divine Giver never fails. The spiritual solutions to poverty emanating from Him never cease. Consecrated prayer will benefit humanity as a whole.
The world has an overflowing arsenal of weapons for the war on poverty. While spiritual solutions are often overlooked, their contribution is uniquely valuable. Bureaucratic red tape can’t strangle spiritual solutions. Corrupt leaders can’t divert them to selfish ends. Since they originate with the divine Giver, He nourishes them.
If spiritual solutions to end poverty are to take root in daily life, however, you and I have a role to play. We must engage in ongoing prayer. I hope you feel inspired to do so—to take the “next step” in spiritual resolve, commitment, and follow-through. That will make a world of healing difference.
Awakening to ever-present supply:
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