My response to: “It’s Not the Government’s Job to Help the Poor—It’s the Church’s!”

I’ve heard this phrase all my life—inside churches, outside churches, online, in political debates: “It’s not the government’s job to help the poor; it’s the church’s job.”

I’ve been hearing it more and more lately from fellow Christians, especially in reaction to critiques of the so-called “Big Beautiful Bill” and the estimated harm it will cause to millions of Americans in the coming years. The sentiment is always the same: if the church would just do its job, we wouldn’t need the government to care for the vulnerable.

On the surface, this argument sounds virtuous. It champions personal responsibility, spiritual authenticity, and the role of the church. But the more I hear it, the more I find myself asking a deeper theological question: Do those who say this actually apply it to the Bible?

What About God’s Commands to Nations?

Do they believe God was wrong to give the entire nation of Israel laws specifically designed to protect the poor, the widow, the orphan, and the immigrant (Deut. 24:17–22; Lev. 19:9–10; Ex. 22:21–27)? Those were national, governmental commands, not just moral suggestions for individuals or religious communities.

Do they believe the prophets were out of line when they rebuked kings and rulers—those in governmental power—for failing to uphold justice and protect the poor?

“Woe to those who make unjust laws,

to those who issue oppressive decrees,

to deprive the poor of their rights

and withhold justice from the oppressed of my people, making widows their prey and robbing the orphan.” (Isaiah 10:1–2)

“Do what is just and right. Rescue the oppressed from the hand of the oppressor. Do no wrong or violence to the foreigner, the fatherless or the widow.” (Jeremiah 22:3)

The prophets didn’t just speak to religious communities. They spoke to whole societies—and especially to those with political power.

Did Jesus and Paul Support Public Welfare?

Jesus himself affirmed paying taxes to both Rome and the Temple (Luke 20:22–25; Matthew 17:24–27), even though both funded public goods and religious services. The Roman Empire, while far from just, did provide roads, aqueducts, grain distribution, and forms of what we would now call “social services.” Jesus never said, “Don’t support that—it’s the synagogue’s job.” He simply said, “Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s, and to God what is God’s.”

Likewise, Paul urged Christians to pay taxes “because the authorities are God’s servants, who give their full time to governing” (Romans 13:6). This wasn’t blind allegiance to empire—it was a recognition that governing institutions have a role to play in restraining evil and promoting the common good.

Did the Early Church Retreat from the Public Good?

Not at all. The early church supported the poor and rebuked corrupt leaders. They also called the powerful to account. Read the Book of Acts, and you’ll see public confrontations with governing authorities—alongside radical generosity within the community.

And historically, Christians in America have been deeply involved in shaping public policies to help the poor and oppressed:

• The abolition of slavery

• Child labor laws

• Civil rights movements

• Women’s suffrage

• Advocacy for fair wages and working conditions

Were those believers wrong to push for change at the governmental level? Were they abandoning the church’s role, or living it out?

The church is the church when it seeks to empower the most vulnerable. The church ceases to be the church when it seeks power for itself.

Can the Church Really Do It Alone?

Having worked in full-time ministry for most of my life, I say this with conviction: the church cannot meet every need on its own. Not because it lacks compassion, but because poverty is complex, and human need is vast.

Are churches prepared to fully replace public education? Public health systems? Infrastructure, food inspections, emergency services, environmental protections, disability support, elder care, and disaster relief? Are they willing to shoulder the full burden of long-term mental health care, chronic illness, refugee resettlement, or rural hospital closures?

Will those who claim “it’s the church’s job” actually step up and meet the vacuum left behind when public services are gutted?

Most churches are already stretched thin. Most pastors are bi-vocational. Most benevolence funds run out quickly. It’s not a lack of will; it’s a lack of capacity. This isn’t failure—it’s simply reality.

God Works Through More Than the Church

Here’s the theological flaw in this whole argument: it assumes God only works through the church.

But God works through all people, all institutions, and all structures to bring about justice, mercy, and flourishing. Even those outside the faith. Even governments.

“The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it” (Psalm 24:1).

A nation’s laws, when just and righteous, can be a tool of divine mercy. The very idea of the “year of jubilee” (Leviticus 25)—a mandated economic reset to protect the vulnerable—is precisely the kind of structural, institutional justice modern Christians claim should be off-limits to governments. Yet Jesus himself invoked it in his first sermon:

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me… to proclaim good news to the poor… to set the oppressed free… to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” (Luke 4:18–19)

This wasn’t just personal charity. It was a vision for society-wide transformation where the needs of the poor and oppressed were prioritized.

A Lack of Imagination—and Compassion

This rigid “either/or” thinking—either the church helps or the government helps—reveals a serious lack of imagination, and worse, a failure of compassion.

Why not both?

Why not encourage every human institution to act justly? Why not call the government, business, media, education, and the church to pursue the common good for all people together? Why assume that government aid is inherently corrupt or spiritually inferior?

Jesus never said for his followers to prevent governments from helping the poor. He simply called them to love their neighbor as themselves.

The Witness of the Early Church

History reminds us just how far we’ve drifted from our roots. In the early centuries of the church, radical care for everyone—not just fellow believers—defined Christian identity.

In ancient Rome, most religious groups only cared for their own. Christians, by contrast, shocked the empire by caring for all in need, regardless of status or belief. This drew people to the faith in droves.

Even Emperor Julian, no fan of Christians, lamented this in a letter:

“The impious Galileans [Christians] support not only their own poor but ours as well. Everyone can see that our people lack aid from us.” (Letter to Arsacius, c. 362 AD)

Christian compassion was not factional. It was radical, indiscriminate, and sacrificial. That’s what made it revolutionary.

So, What Are We Known For Now?

Today, many Christians are known not for insisting that someone help the poor—but for resisting any institution that dares to try.

Why would we want to be remembered for that?

If a law helps the hungry eat, helps the sick receive care, helps the prisoner find dignity, helps the elderly live in peace, or helps the planet heal—shouldn’t we celebrate it, even if it’s not “the church’s job”?

Isn’t that what love looks like?

Scripture, history, and common sense all point to the same truth:

Helping the most vulnerable is everyone’s job.

The church should lead the way—but never stand in the way.

So let’s retire the tired phrase: “It’s not the government’s job.”

Let’s replace it with a better one:

“It’s everybody’s job. And as followers of Jesus, we should be the first to say yes.”

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