Prioritizing and living an incarnational life among the oppressed sounds like a beautiful idea. To reject the pattern of the world and choose to live among the forgotten, choosing to identify with the basic realities of the poor. There’s a certain idealistic beauty about choosing to share in both their sufferings and celebrations, to rejoice and mourn with others, making their situation – in all its brokenness and pain – our very own (Ro 12:15).
The problem with doing this as the incarnation is that it must be a constant process: it’s impossible to identify with the poor and become accepted in their community only on a part-time basis. Spending a few hours each week getting to know someone can be helpful to certain people, but it doesn’t go far enough. Even more, “service” to the poor without deeper involvement into their lives can be exploitative, a form of “helping” that eases the individual’s conscience (“I’m doing my part!”) without recognizing other, more subtle forms of oppression (as seen in participating in an unjust economic and social system), or by ignoring deeper issues that may address more root causes of poverty.
Compassion puts it well:
“Often we experience a strong desire to offer our services to our fellow human beings in need. At times we even dream about giving our lives to the poor and living in solidarity with those who suffer. Sometimes these dreams lead to generous actions, to good and worthwhile projects, and to weeks, months, and even years of dedicated work. But the initiative still remains ours. We decide when we go and when we return; we decide what to do and how to do it; we control the level of intensity of our servanthood. Although much good work gets done in these situations, there is always the creeping danger that even our servanthood is a subtle form of manipulation. Are we really servants when we can become masters again once we think we have done our part or made our contribution? Are we really servants when we can say when, where, and how long we will give of our time and energy? Is service in a far country really an expression of servanthood when we keep enough money in the bank to fly home at any moment?”
Jesus lived the example of the incarnational life: he chose to give up his prerogatives in order to identify with, and ultimately redeem, the oppressed and poor. To do that is an act of ultimate submission, of choosing not to follow his own desires: “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done.” (Luke 22:42)
As difficult as it may sound, living incarnationally means giving up control, of submitting to others and becoming a servant of the meekest. Part of living an incarnational lifestyle is the decision limiting ourselves – submitting to other people (and our sense of control over them) so that we can recognize they are made in the image of God and have the same inherent value that we do. Jesus’ observance, “whoever loses his life for my sake will find it,” (Mt 10:25) further develops this idea: when we give up control over everything it is ‘losing a life,’ abandoning our prerogatives to submit to needs of others. In losing ourselves, we gain a new appreciation and depth to our relationships with God and other people, thereby gaining a depth and a fullness to a life that is impossible to find on one’s own.
Jesus called them together and said, “You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be your slave— just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” (Matthew 20:25-28)
Posted by ericlange 
