What does ‘social action’ look like?

Having promised three posts on ‘social action’, here at last is the final instalment (Read Part 1 and Part 2.)

Part 3 has been difficult to polish off—not only because we are getting to the rough terrain of practical wisdom, but also because it’s so easy to be self-deceived. Am I wanting to play down what social action means in reality because, for all my lofty talk about love, my heart is in fact cold, and I don’t want to have to put myself out for others? Or am I wanting to play up social action because, for all my lofty talk about proclamation being central, I don’t in fact want it to be central, and would rather do something else instead—something that seems both more immediately useful and more acceptable in the eyes of the world?

In weakness and trembling, then, let me try six propositions on what ‘social action’ looks like for the average Christian:

1. It starts at our door.
   ‘Social action’ is really just godly Christian love in response to the needs that we meet every day. As James puts it, “If a brother or sister is poorly clothed and lacking in daily food, and one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace, be warmed and filled,’ without giving them the things needed for the body, what good is that?” (Jas 2:15-16). John says much the same in his letter (1 John 3:16-18). The chilling example of Lazarus and Dives in Luke 16:19-31 also comes to mind. You see a need, you open your hand and meet it.
2. It extends further afield.
   There is a special theological (or salvation-historical) background to Paul’s collection for the suffering saints in Jerusalem, but it is, all the same, an important New Testament example of contributing generously to the needs of others farther from home. Wanting to be generous and open-handed to others is a sign that we have been gripped by the gospel of grace (see 2 Cor 8:1-9). There are all sorts of ways that Christians can help and contribute to the welfare of others in our streets and our local communities, in our nations and in the world. Of course, the further afield we go, the less direct our knowledge of the situation can be, and the less able we are to offer concrete and effective help. It’s no accident that it has often been Christians who have gone and lived in places of great need, and set up aid societies and structures to help in those areas.
3. It’s all good.
   If our theological foundation (in parts 1 and 2) was correct, there is no meaningful distinction between helping others on a small scale (making a meal for a sick neighbour) and helping others on a larger scale (providing food aid for flood victims). We shouldn’t underestimate or despise the small, nor fail to take opportunities for the large when they arise. However, our ability to act in ways that really help others appears to diminish in proportion to the complexity of the problem and our distance from it. (In this light, it’s interesting to read Doug Wilson’s critique of NT Wright’s passionate argument that Christians must campaign for the abolition of third world debt.)
4. It’s variegated according to God’s gift.
   The ethical demand to love others and serve them is singular. Its outworking will be variegated because of the different people we each are, the different gifts we have, and the different circumstances, needs and opportunities that we confront. We will make different decisions at the level of what we think will do most good. We should not guilt-manipulate other Christians into one particular kind of social action and love, nor baptize our own political leanings into a call for other Christians to think and act as we do. I find it curious that in the US, evangelical Christians ‘getting involved socially and politically’ tends in the vast majority of cases towards the promotion of of ‘right-wing’ causes; in the UK and Australia, the opposite seems to be the case. So a poll of, say, Sydney evangelicals would, I think, find a majority pro Kyoto protocol, anti the Iraq war, pro FairTrade, pro relaxed entry conditions for asylum seekers, anti the former Howard government’s workplace reforms, and so on. A similar poll on similar issues in, say, Chicago or Dallas would, I suspect, turn up very different results.
5. Serving through politics is a valid and good secular activity for Christians.
   The nature and extent of political engagement and activity obviously depends on the society in which we live. The options for us would doubtless be different if we were living in first century Rome. We engage in the political structures and activities of our society as Christian citizens—by voting, by expressing a view, by running for office or supporting those who do. However, I don’t think ‘political engagement’ is a special form of social action, unless one is also prepared to include becoming a doctor or joining the army reserve as ‘social action’. I don’t think Christians have a special calling or responsibility to be involved in politics. Some of us will, and that’s a good thing. Some of us will become plumbers too, and that’s a valuable service to our society. And some of us will serve by setting up or working in relief agencies of different kinds.
6. Let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth.
   If we believe that proclamation is central to God’s purposes, let us give ourselves to it. Let its centrality be evident in our lives and ministries. But likewise, let us not simply talk about the value of loving others through social action: let’s give of ourselves cheerfully and sacrificially for the good of others, like the Christ who was rich beyond all splendour, but who, for love’s sake, became poor.