You don’t take Jesus to the margins. He’s already there

I once heard someone suggest that the teachings of Jesus are startlingly obvious – once you’ve turned everything on its head. This is best seen in the Sermon on the Mount, where Jesus flips the world’s values upside down. 

The world says the powerful have it all together, but Jesus says: “Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth” (Matthew 5:5). The world values the wealthy, but Jesus says: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 5:3).

Our society honours success, strength and self-sufficiency. But God’s kingdom begins with those who come empty and know they need help.

I’ve spent 25 years working among those in prison, on the streets, in addiction or poverty. The people that society discards – but Jesus says are blessed. This work comes with risks. One is the tendency to put myself at the centre of the story and develop a saviour complex. There have been times when I’ve handed out a meal, a piece of advice or the offer of a listening ear with pride in my heart. As if I’m the one who has come to fix or rescue. 

When our help slips into treating people as projects, it can unintentionally hurt more than it heals – and it misses the heart of it all. It’s easy to speak of ‘the poor’ in general terms. It’s harder to learn someone’s name, sit down and hear their story. Gustavo Gutiérrez once said: “Have a heart for the poor? What are their names?” That question still haunts me – especially when I see someone on the streets.

We may think we’re bringing hope. More often, we’re the ones receiving it

Jesus never kept his distance. He ate with outcasts, welcomed the rejected and calls us to do the same. The longer I’ve walked with those battling addiction, stuck in the justice system or facing homelessness, the more I’ve realised just how much they have to teach me.

I’ve seen joy in places where joy shouldn’t grow. I’ve watched faith that clings to Christ with everything it has. In people who’ve lost everything, I’ve seen a dependence on God that puts my own to shame. I’ve learned more about humility by sitting in recovery circles than in sermons. I’ve witnessed greater courage in prison than in most of our pews. We may think we’re bringing hope. More often, we’re the ones receiving it.

Somewhere along the way, our helping becomes our worship. As Jesus said: “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me” (Matthew 25:40). I’m becoming increasingly convinced that he meant it literally. 

This is one of the  mysteries of the kingdom: Christ is present in the poor.When we serve those left behind with love, we meet him. And when we come humbly, we stand on holy ground. Not just giving but being changed. We don’t take Jesus to the margins. We find him there.

So, if you want to meet Jesus, go to where he already is. Whether you volunteer in a soup kitchen, run a food bank or just show practical love to a homeless person, this type of ministry is more than charity. It’s worship. It’s serving Christ himself.