Remember the Poor
“Only, they asked us to remember the poor, the very thing I was eager to do.” – Galatians 2:10
In this short but powerful verse, Paul recounts the one reminder he was given by the pillars of the church after receiving their full fellowship and approval: Remember the poor. And he doesn’t respond begrudgingly or with hesitation—he says plainly, “the very thing I was eager to do.”
There’s more than one kind of poverty.
Economic poverty—when people lack the basic necessities of life: food, clean water, clothing, safety, shelter, access to education or medical care.
And spiritual poverty—when people live without hope, without the gospel, without the knowledge of the love and truth of Jesus Christ.
In the history of the Church, we’ve often treated these two types of poverty as separate causes—choosing one while forsaking the other. And that’s where the mission gets distorted.
Some church movements, particularly during the rise of the emergent and progressive movements, focused heavily on relief and development. And in many ways, praise God—they fed the hungry, built wells, launched clinics, fought injustice, and stood with the oppressed. Much real, tangible suffering was alleviated through this compassion.
But in many cases, they forgot the gospel.
People were fed, yes—but their souls remained starved.
Jesus was offered as an example of kindness, but not as the crucified, risen Savior.
They gave without strings, but also without truth.
On the other side of the coin, many in my own Reformed tradition have offered a feast of truth.
Theologically rich sermons.
Robust discipleship.
Generational faithfulness.
Sound doctrine that equips the spiritually hungry and anchors the soul in a world of chaos.
But how often has this banquet been set up inside walls that ignored the stomachs growling outside?
We taught people how to think rightly about God—while failing to visit the widow, care for the fatherless, or share the resources we’ve been so richly given.
This cannot continue.
We must stop choosing between gospel truth and gospel compassion.
We need both.
We must dig wells, yes—but we must also proclaim the Living Water.
We must feed the hungry—not to earn their conversion, but because Jesus told us to.
We must preach the gospel—not in a vacuum, but with hands and hearts that embody that gospel.
Imagine a church—truly eager to serve the poor.
The economically poor and the spiritually poor.
A church that doesn’t see this as a tug-of-war but as a double calling—to serve both soul and body, truth and love, head and heart.
What if we led with the gospel—and followed with open hands?
What if we discipled with depth—and still gave until it hurt?
Because the goal isn’t numbers. It isn’t praise. It isn’t cultural relevance.
It’s faithfulness.
Faithfulness to the mission Jesus gave.
Faithfulness to love our neighbors as ourselves.
Faithfulness to remember the poor—not out of guilt or obligation, but because we are eager to do so.
Church, let’s be known for both.
Let’s build churches and communities where the poor in spirit are blessed—and the poor in body are fed.
Let’s hold our Bibles in one hand and a loaf of bread in the other.
Let’s serve the way Jesus did—with truth on His lips and compassion in His touch.
Let’s remember the poor. And be eager to do it.
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