Prophets are rare today. Traditionally, they expose our blind spots, unclog our deaf ears and rub raw our calloused hearts. Mostly, these pesky truth-tellers enlarge our world’s vision. Prophets point us to God’s kingdom, awaken our consciences and stir our compassion. This challenging prophetic function is largely unappreciated by the church and the world. As a result, prophets often fight their friends and love their enemies.
Looking upward, reaching outward
A prophetic “word from the Lord” jolts us awake. Prophets practice the cross-shaped Christian gospel, sensitizing us to look upward and outward. When we see, by faith, God’s saving grace in Christ, then we’re moved, by gratitude, to reach out as neighbors. Christ’s cross shows love in action, mercy and compassion at its best. An easy faith is no longer possible. Cross-shaped believers love as God loves, bear others’ burdens as Christ did, and live his Kingdom’s core values.
Bob Dale
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God’s prophets see the invisible, hear the inaudible and speak truth at great risk. How can believers rooted in the Judeo-Christian heritage look up, reach out and amplify our prophetic message now? From many biblical stories, three events — Exodus, Pentecost, and the Sheep and Goat Judgment — focus life on God’s kingdom love.
Exodus’ scar
The Hebrews never healed from Egypt’s scars. They couldn’t. On their bodies and in their souls, they forever bore the marks of captivity. As slaves and underdogs, they remembered the pain and powerlessness of being forced to make bricks without straw. Isolated from home places, they lamented burying their dead in an alien land.
The memory of God’s deliverance from suffering triggered the Hebrew’s concern for others. Consequently, after the Exodus, they cared for widows, orphans and strangers at their gates (Deut. 27:19; Job 31:16-17; Ps. 146: 9), reflecting God’s care for them. This merciful impulse remained the Egyptian captivity’s legacy and became embedded in the Christian movement. Compassion from the Exodus scar later produced hospitals, orphanages, penitentiaries and hostels, a legacy of caring witness to other scarred people.
Pentecost’s pattern
The Hebrew care practices took on new power in the Christian community after Pentecost. The early believers ate and worshipped together, shared all they had, lived their faith publicly, and gained the respect of their non-Christian neighbors (Acts 2:42-47; 4:31-37). Ironically, the first scandal in the fledgling church was Ananias and Sapphira’s counterfeit compassion (Acts 5:1-11). And the first conflict in the emerging church involved unequal care of widows (Acts 6:1-6). The Pentecost pattern is clear. In God’s name, we care for those who can’t care for themselves. In God’s spirit, we protect the vulnerable and powerless.
Luke, Acts’ author, had emphasized the same needs in his Gospel. More than other Gospel writers, he championed persons on the margins — the poor, women, outcasts, and foreigners. Remember Luke’s compassion hero? A Good Samaritan (Luke 15: 11-24). Maybe Luke, the only Gentile writer in the Bible, knew viscerally what it was like to be an outsider. Luke understood fully that God’s love reaches far beyond nation, race or gender. God’s circle of care includes all of us, the royal and the redneck.
Judgment’s ledger
Jesus’ story of the Sheep and Goat Judgment is the most unsettling Bible passage for the compassion-challenged. Picture the end of time, when all are gathered and judged by the King’s straightforward standard:
“I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me” (Matt. 25:31-46, RSV).
Judgment’s final criterion was exactly the same for the righteous and for the cursed: “… as you did it to one of the least of these … you did it to me” (Matt. 25:40, 45, RSV).
The “I” and “me” pronouns in this story become very personal. The measure of our lives is whether we serve the Incognito Christ, God disguised in everyday human needs. Nothing heroic is required. The heavenly ledger simply records whether or not we care for the hungry, thirsty, stranger, naked, sick and imprisoned. For the story’s King, that’s enough.
It’s disturbing that both the blessed and cursed asked the same haunting question, “When?” Neither group deliberately sized up needs. Both groups followed their hearts. The blessed helped without calculation. The cursed apparently didn’t see the needy at all, a high cost for silencing prophets.
Are there folks at our doors who are hungry and thirsty, in sick beds or cells, in need of clothes or hospitality? From Matthew 25, the riskiest answer is, “I don’t see any.”
Readying prophets
The Scripture has spoken. Now, it’s our turn to speak to our congregations. Remember that prophets consistently contrast faith and culture. Just as consistently, they call their churches to counter the culture with distinctive faith. But what if the culture becomes ministry’s measure for churches? What if churches simply find a local interest, theological or not, and meet it? Then, intended or not, faith becomes comfortable, and Christ’s narrow way is forfeited. When congregations mirror culture, prophetic voices are muted, and the gospel’s ethical edge is dulled.
Thrice-born prophets
It’s not enough for Christians to be kind-hearted. Prophecy is a gift and a calling from God. A Baptist prophet of an earlier era called for “thrice-born” believers — first born physically, then born again in Christ, and finally reborn to live out God’s love in action. “Thrice-born faith” energizes the Gospel’s practical applications. “Pure religion,” as James describes it, moves us beyond empty faith to “visit the orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world” (James 1:27, RSV). Thrice-born prophets are God’s contrasting servants amid a self-centered culture, champions of compassion.
Thrice-born prophets stir hearts and raise horizons. They give us hope-filled ears for the King’s invitation, “Come, O blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world” (Matt. 25: 34, RSV)?
When have you broken silence and raised your prophetic voice in concern for the marginalized, powerless and needy? When did you see Christ in others and reach out in practical ministry? Prophetically, the “blessed ones” leaven our churches and the world. Thrice-born prophets model the conviction, compassion and hope of God’s kingdom. We can too. We must. Now.
Bob Dale (bobdale40@yahoo. com) is a leader coach in Richmond and a retired seminary professor and denominational worker. He also is a trustee of the Religious Herald.