Christian Karma

Several years ago, it might have looked like I had it all together. 

Our organization was thriving. In the wake of Muhammad Yunus’ Nobel Peace Prize for his pioneering work in microfinance, many churches began looking for ways to become engaged in similar models.

With only a handful of organizations focused on Christ-centered microfinance, HOPE International suddenly appeared on the map and in Google searches. Our fundraising budget grew 700 percent, and as HOPE rapidly expanded from 3 countries to 16 counties, I began traveling extensively year round.

Yet while I was seemingly giving my life to God and serving the physically poor, internally I could sense that I was heading in the wrong direction.

Worse, it felt as though God wasn’t keeping His end of the bargain:

He was supposed to give me peace that passes understanding. I was frazzled, running as fast as I could to keep my head above water.

He was supposed to set my feet upon a rock. I was slipping. At work, I was buried under my email inbox and travel prevented me from spending quality or quantity time with my kids.

He was supposed to protect my family. My wife was emotionally pulling away and creating a life that didn’t include me.

He was supposed to lead me beside quiet waters. I had to deal with a kidnapping, robbery, and murder in the places where we operated.

This is not how the Christian life was supposed to work.

I thought God and I had a deal—what I sow, I reap. What I give, I get in return. Since I was doing so much good, why wasn’t God blessing me for all my sacrifice?

This idea - Christian karma - is probably one of the oldest and most dangerous lies facing those striving to do good.

Christian karma reduces Jesus to some sort of cosmic genie.

If we rub the oil lamp correctly, God answers our every call. We do good works, but we do them in an effort to manipulate God into doing good in return. In so doing, we might look like we’re sacrificially serving God, yet be completely self-centered in the process.

If we do good to gain leverage over God, our good works become less about Him—and all about us.

Eugene Peterson, author of The Message, describes it perfectly:

We’ve all met a certain type of spiritual person. She’s a wonderful person. She loves the Lord. She prays and reads the Bible all the time. But all she thinks about is herself. She’s not a selfish person. But she’s always at the center of everything she’s doing. “How can I witness better? How can I do this better? How can I take care of this person’s problem better?” It’s me, me, me disguised in a way that is difficult to see because her spiritual talk disarms us.

You see, our default is to make our service about us.

Every generation needs to destroy this dangerous myth.

This philosophy isn’t new. Consider the story of Job, thought to be the oldest book in the Bible.  We often think Job is about suffering. It’s not. Though Job’s losses are incredible, the key question playing out on earth is—Is God just?

At the heart of the question is a central concept to Christian karma: If God doesn’t give us good in return for our good, then can He really be good?

As a righteous man, Job’s friends reasoned that he should have been rewarded by God. But it was (well-disguised) heresy.

The conclusion of this book is simple: Job did good. God allowed Job to suffer. God is good. Job never found out why he suffered. Most times, we don’t either. It’s time to stop pretending that just because we do good, that only good will happen in our lives.

Christian karma fails to sustain a life of faithful service.

The movement of love and good works is on the rise. But I wonder if we are heading towards a crisis where an increasing number of people are disillusioned in their service and with God.

A faith based on Christian karma will always disappoint.

The most powerful antidote is to constantly remember why we serve. It’s not to gain leverage over God. It’s not for the purpose of making a name for ourselves or creating a successful organization. It’s out of a heart posture of gratitude to a God who knows we aren’t perfect, who recognizes that we are a mess, and who still washes our feet.

Ultimately, the only lasting motivation for service is simply to remember that we love simply because He first loved us.