Better Than Charity

Ever feel like life just isn't fair? 

In a world of brokenness—where it’s so hard to get ahead and where the powerful thrive and the vulnerable get left behind—our instinct is to do something.

And if we’re going to do something, we have a tendency to make that “something” an action that feels generous. We see a need and want to fill it. And we want to feel good about doing it.

Wanting to make a difference is good. But not all “help” actually helps. Sometimes, it hurts the people we want to help.

I've Been in This Work for a While

Since 2003, I've had one foot firmly planted in the world of affordable housing. That’s over 20 years working to ensure there are housing options for everyone—whether through working with local, state, and federal government to defend the first rung on the ladder of homeownership, building and renewing affordable, LEED-certified homes for first-time, low-income buyers at Habitat for Humanity, or recently helping restore an entire portfolio of affordable rental housing at ICCF Community Homes. As a volunteer on the Wyoming City Planning Commission, I get to consider housing projects of all shapes and sizes.

I promise I’m not trying to brag—I just want you to know I’m not speaking from an ivory tower. I’ve got some skin in the game. I've lived this work. It's a calling. I've seen our West Michigan housing crisis from every angle. And it's pretty awful.

Today, our church assists families facing housing crises by meeting emergency needs—food, hygiene items, kids' clothes, household basics. We allow people living in their cars to sleep overnight in our lot. This week our air-conditioned building doubled as a cooling center. We're in the thick of it.

But the system is broken. When 2-1-1—the system designed to connect people to resources—tells someone, "Sorry, we have no housing for you, the waiting lists are all closed, try calling local churches," desperation grows. 

We get calls every day for rent help, and when churches tell people “we don't have funds to cover rent,” those churches sometimes end up blasted on social media: “This church doesn’t care about the community.”

I get it. If I were facing eviction, I’d be angry too.

At Buck Creek, we take every call seriously. Each caller is prayed for by name. And through our partnership with Love In The Name of Christ (INC) South Kent County, we try to connect them to equipping and long-term solutions. But no individual church in the 616 can pay for all the housing needs our neighbors face. The math just doesn't work.

But here's what those calls reveal: much of what passes as "help" in our culture is just a band-aid. All this experience has taught me something crucial: the version of “helping” much of the church is drawn to will simply make the giver feel good—and it may address a real symptom—but it doesn’t break the cycle of brokenness. In fact, sometimes it keeps people stuck.

We're Called to More Than Charity

At our church, we don't do a lot of handouts. Sound cold? I get it. Hang with me.

The reason I say we don’t do a lot of handouts is because our calling is deeper than charity.

What is charity? Scraps from our table. Old clothes that don’t fit anymore. “Spare” time. Basically, charity is leftovers. And charity gets you a tax credit. That’s not what Jesus wants from us: our leftovers. His standard is “dying to self”, “carrying a cross daily” and “loving our neighbor as we love ourselves.”

The Bible says God has entrusted us with the ministry of reconciliation (2 Corinthians 5:18–19). That means we’re not just here to fix surface problems but to see people reconciled to the Father and to one another. Transformation is our goal. Redemption. And, ultimately, flourishing.

As Lois Tupyi writes in Redemptive Compassion:

“True compassion moves beyond providing for basic needs to addressing the root causes of poverty and brokenness. It's not about a transaction; it's about transformation.”

It’s easier to do the stuff that feels good and doesn’t really make a difference than to do the hard stuff that takes time, energy, and resources. It’s easier to stay at a safe distance than to be proximate. Relationships are harder than transactions.

Handouts have their place in emergencies—and if we ever turn our back on someone facing tragedy, we need to repent. But if we also turn our back on the heavy lifting required to see true change—walking with people, addressing root causes, and being agents of reconciliation—then we must repent for that too. To ignore this calling is to turn our back on our Christian identity.

Paul reminds us that true help dignifies work:

“Let the thief no longer steal, but rather let him labor, doing honest work with his own hands, so that he may have something to share with anyone in need.” —Ephesians 4:28

He also taught the principle of personal responsibility:

“If anyone is not willing to work, let him not eat.” —2 Thessalonians 3:10

This isn’t harsh—it’s loving. It preserves dignity.

The early church in Acts 6 didn’t hand out food randomly. They created systems of support that maintained dignity and accountability and it was rooted in relationship. That’s what love does.

Charity vs. Reconciliation

Too often, charity is well-intentioned but ultimately disempowering. As Robert Lupton warns in Toxic Charity:

“When we do for those in need what they have the capacity to do for themselves, we disempower them.”

From When Helping Hurts:

“One of the biggest mistakes we make… is doing things to them rather than with them. We end up perpetuating a cycle of dependency instead of breaking it.”

And from John Perkins:

“You don’t give people dignity. You affirm it.”

“There is no reconciliation until you recognize the dignity of the other… you have to enter into the pain of the people.”

Dr. Alvin Sanders of World Impact sums it up:

“Urban ministry done right is not charity; it’s about empowering people through discipleship to become who God created them to be.”

A Cross-Shaped Model of Help

Our model for serving others isn’t a transaction—it’s the cross.

In Luke 23, Jesus took the place of Barabbas. Barabbas was guilty. Jesus was innocent. Yet Jesus stepped into his punishment so he could walk free.

Barabbas didn’t leave that day as a charity case—he walked away with a future. That’s what the Gospel does. Jesus doesn’t just patch up our mistakes—He gives us a new name, new hope, and new dignity. And that’s what we aim for. Not quick fixes, but long walks toward lasting freedom.

What Does This Look Like?

We help in emergencies. If someone is hungry, we feed them. If they’re freezing, we give them a coat. Jesus fed the hungry and healed the sick—compassion meets immediate needs. But that’s not where we stop. We walk with people toward freedom.

One ministry leader shared the story of Cheryl, a single mom who asked for help with a utility bill. Instead of paying it and sending her on her way, they asked deeper questions: “What’s keeping you stuck?”

Through a long-term relationship, Cheryl joined a budgeting class, completed a job skills program, and eventually secured stable employment. She didn’t just get help—she got her life back. That’s the slow, patient work of redemptive compassion.

We aim to empower—not rescue.

These are not "projects to fix". They are our neighbors to love. In Rethinking Charity, Ismael Hernandez tells of a church that moved from “drive-by generosity” to economic mentorship—offering microenterprise coaching and civic engagement opportunities. It wasn’t flashy. But it equipped people to flourish as creators made in God’s image. Tools, not toys. Dignity, not dependence.

We aim for redemption. Our goal isn’t to make people dependent on us but to help them reconcile with God, discover their dignity, and live in freedom.

Micah 6:8 calls us to “do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God.” Justice isn’t tossing scraps from our table—it’s giving our neighbor a seat at the table.

This Is the Gospel in Action

We are God’s chosen agents of reconciliation (2 Corinthians 5:20). When we serve, we do it in a way that restores dignity and points people to the One who can set them free.

As When Helping Hurts puts it:

“The goal is not to make people dependent on us or our resources, but to help them experience the fullness of life that God intends—for them to be image-bearers, capable and flourishing.”

This is why we don’t do handouts. Because the Gospel offers something better: reconciliation, redemption, and true freedom in Christ.

We can’t solve the world’s problems. But we can make a world of difference in the life of the person God has placed on our path. And that usually won’t happen through “a day of service” with a cool t-shirt and a group photo. It usually requires relationship, vulnerability, proximity, and sacrificial giving of time, talent, and treasure.

And it’s rarely easy.

Next Step: Join Us

Let me be clear: we’re trying to figure this out. We’ve gotten it wrong, and we probably will again. But we’re stumbling toward Jesus. Falling forward. Together.

So if you want to make a real difference, partner with us—or with other churches and nonprofits committed to redemptive compassion. Support organizations like ICCF Community Homes, Love INC South Kent County, World Impact, and Reach the Forgotten.

Because as Dr. Alvin Sanders says:

“The local church is God’s plan A for addressing poverty. There is no plan B.”

That’s why we do this. Because we believe Jesus builds His church to carry the burdens no one else wants to. To step into messes that money alone can’t fix. To love people into dignity, freedom, and hope. To fill every crack and crevice with the Gospel. To love our city into greatness. 

A Final Challenge

Who has God placed on your path? Start there. Pray for them by name. Show up with presence, not just resources. If you want to see cycles of brokenness break, be willing to give your life away in relationship—just as Jesus gave His life for you.

If this resonates with you and you want to dive deeper, here are some essential books that have shaped our approach:

When Helping Hurts by Steve Corbett and Brian Fikkert
Toxic Charity by Robert Lupton
Rethinking Charity by Ismael Hernandez
Redemptive Compassion by Lois Tupyi
A Framework for Understanding Poverty by Ruby Payne

John Perkins Collection:
Let Justice Roll Down by John Perkins
With Justice for All by John Perkins
Restoring At-Risk Communities by John Perkins