Not World's Apart
Macsyna King has broken her silence. Ian Wishart has confirmed that the pre-pub embargo has ended, and that we are free to "discuss away" as he put it. Below is a collage of thoughts about the underclass and King's role in it.
We know it exists, this underclass. We know that it is strong, vibrant and growing. It has all the malign life force of an aggressive cancer. To be sure, most of us know it in theoretical, not experiential terms. That does not make our knowledge necessarily wrong or inaccurate. In fact, King's account of her life from her parents right down to the present day will confirm just about every understanding of this terrible vortex.
Sadly, there is nothing here that surprises. But the power and value of King's auto-biography is that she gives it flesh and blood--suddenly, the underclass becomes human, tangible, real. We feel like we know her all to well.
We deny anyone reading her account not to have at least two gut responses. The first would be a profound sense of sorrow and grief at the self-inflicted suffering of a person made in God's image. The second would be an equally profound sense of identification. Every reader, at least every Christian reader, will find this truth gnawing at their vitals: if it were me, if I had been raised in the conditions of her childhood and her extended family, if I had been mercilessly beaten by my father in drunken rages, if I had been abandoned by my mother . . . . would I have been any different? Would the outcome have been divergent? The emphatic answer that comes back is in the negative. No, we would not--unless, unless God in His infinite mercy confronted us and stepped into our lives, no longer passing us by. As the Apostle Paul said to our Corinthian brethren, after documenting the sinful degradation of the Gentiles, "such were some of you, but you were washed . . ." (I Corinthians 6: 9-11)
It is precisely at this point the perspectives of Christians and Unbelievers diverge. Believers and Unbelievers alike can read King's account of her life lived in the Underclass and feel pity and compassion. In fact virtually the entire humanist apparatus of state--with all its organs, media, institutions, and bureaucratic agencies--professes pity for the Macsyna King's of this world. Pity oozes like designer sweat at the national gym.
Coupled with this pity is a deep sense of national guilt which must be expiated. Unbelief says if "society" had done a better job, if we had just educated (say) Macsyna's parents more effectively, or provided more social workers, or better home help, or more helpful social conditioning programmes on TV, or restricted liquor outlets in South Auckland--well, if we had just done this, we would have prevented King's degradation and suffering. Sure Macsyna has had a terrible life, but in the final analysis we--society--are to blame.
Unfortunately, for such as these, reading King's frank non-self-justifying account of her life will only make the problem worse. We predict, most confidently, that if Unbelievers take any notice of it at all they will be driven to yet another bout of orgiastic exculpatory expiation. The Underclass needs more from us--more money, more support, more education, more help, they will tell themselves. It is the inevitable, reflexive response of bleeding-heart liberalism, racked with guilt for what it has done to Macsyna King and her ilk. And it will only make matters worse.
Herein lies the profound difference between the compassionate pity of Believers versus pagans: the pity of the Gospel comes with a clarion call to all members of the Underclass to repent and believe upon the Lord Jesus Christ to be released from slavery. Without repentance and faith, there will be no genuine deliverance. Moreover, this "bad news-good news" Gospel comes freely, without guilt upon the brow of the one who brings it. The Christian is free to confront the members of the Underclass with their own responsibility and culpability and accountability before the Living God, because the Christian, unlike the modern liberal, does not believe he is part of the cause. And in this "hardness" there are the seeds of life. If it be true that God is holy, and that we have sinned against Him; if it be true that He would have compassion upon us and deliver us if we would turn away from our Unbelief and seek His mercy--if these things be true, there is hope, real hope, genuine grounds to hope. The past--the degrading, enslaving past--can be broken up; all things can be made new.
Incidentally, one of the "boons" of being in the Underclass is that evil is transparent and its consequences are everywhere to hand. In that sense the members of the Underclass are closer to God than the smug, effete, self-satisfied liberal who believes in his own intrinsic goodness. The Gospel offering deliverance from sin often has immediate relevance to such people. Christ did not come to call the smug liberal--even if he be guilt stricken over what "society" has done. The Physician does not deal with the "healthy".
Does this mean that Christians will not endeavour to help those in the Underclass who cling to their evil ways? No, and yes. It's just that Christians remain profoundly realistic about how ineffectual and potentially damaging such help will likely be, without repentance and faith on the part of the recipient. Yes, we can spare a dime for the alcoholic. But we know it will likely do much more harm than good in the long run. Christian charity tends to be far, far more discriminating than humanist charity being driven by guilt and the need to expiate it.
There is one other characteristic of Christian charity that makes it worlds apart from the charity of guilt and pity. When all is said and done, Christians know that they are nothing more than beggars telling other beggars where they can find bread. Macsyna King has done us a great boon--reminding us so vividly and powerfully of this truth. Not that there is a hint in her account that she intended to do so--which makes it all the more compelling.
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