Grace turns boasting upside down. When we live according to God’s grace (and especially according to His gift of salvation in Christ), we recognize that everything we have is a gift from God (1 Cor. 4:7); we can do nothing on our own (John 15:5); weakness is the way of strength (2 Cor. 12:10); all things work together for good for those who love God (Rom. 8:28); we live by faith and not by sight (2 Cor. 5:7); and whatever we do, we do for the glory of God (1 Cor. 10:31).

So much of our trouble in the Christian life involves the use of possessive pronouns. J.C. Ryle wrote in his Expository Thoughts on Mark: “The life of Christianity . . . consists in possessive pronouns. It is one thing to say ‘Christ is a Savior.’ It is quite another to say ‘He is my Savior and my Lord.’” In other words, everything we need for the Christian life is found in being able to speak about Jesus with possessive pronouns. But at the same time, we also get ourselves into trouble when we use possessive pronouns in other ways. We talk about my plans and my time and my rights, and we set ourselves up for disappointment and dissatisfaction when things don’t go our way. It is the problem of presumption, and at the heart of it is the old, stubborn struggle against pride.

Presumption is not a new problem. When the Apostle James wrote to Christians living in the first century, he warned them about dangers that continue to plague Christians in the twenty-first century—dangers such as a sharp tongue and a materialistic lifestyle and boasting about the future. James wrote:
Come now, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go into such and such a town and spend a year there and trade and make a profit”—yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes. Instead you ought to say, “If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that.” As it is, you boast in your arrogance. All such boasting is evil. (James 4:13–16)
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The call to visit widows and orphans in their affliction, to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, care for the sick, and visit the prisoner—in other words, the call to care for the weakest and most helpless among us—these are not optional duties for the Christian life. They are the calling of every Christian, and they are the evidence of a life shaped by the gospel. 

I once heard a pastor quoted as saying that no one wanted to fool with going to hospitals, or visiting nursing homes, or dealing with death. Hospitals are full of the sick, nursing homes are tough places, and nobody wants to think about death. Derek Kidner writes in his commentary on Psalms that it is ironic that “the more a person needs human support, the less he naturally attracts it.”

In fact, there are plenty of reasons for not reaching out to and caring for those who most need our care and attention. For one, it can be hard to find the time. The simple ministry of being with and listening to someone takes time, and, usually, it is time that is unscheduled and unpredictable. And when we take the time, we often find ourselves lacking words to say and not knowing what we should do. We feel a sense of helplessness and inadequacy when we are confronted with someone in grief and loneliness and fear. Sometimes our efforts might be overlooked or the other person might never know or remember that we were there at all. Then there’s compassion fatigue. And guilt—the guilt of not doing more, of not doing better. And so we stay away.
But what blessings are we missing when we stay away? In his letter to the Philippians, Paul requests help from his readers, but he says that his chief concern is not their gift itself but the blessing that God would provide for them through their gift: “Not that I seek the gift, but I seek the fruit that increases to your credit” (Phil. 4:17). The Philippians could have kept their resources to themselves, but they would have missed the opportunity to cultivate contentment, compassion, and generosity in their own lives. The same goes for us in our acts of ministry to the least among us. What better ways are there for us to grow in faith, to nurture godliness, and to learn how to face trials with courage than to walk with others in their times of need?
I was at dinner with some friends recently and someone asked the question, “What about your life now would have been surprising to you twenty years ago?”

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