The term social justice just doesn’t work. It is so overused, it’s become painful on the ears and eyes. If I’m listening to a sermon, it is a trigger word for mind-wandering. If I’m reading a blog post, it merits an automatic click … away.
Most people who refer to social justice in a public message mean well. They mean very well. They mean to put an end to terrible, heartbreaking things like poverty and sex trafficking and orphanages. I want to end those things, too. I have no problem with such a vital message–in fact, the core message of our very lives should be that one day there will be an end to such grave injustice. Why, then, is the banner term for its remedy weak and useless? What does social justice mean, anyway?
- Social justice is vague. How will we know social justice when we see it happening? How will we know when we have achieved social justice? How much social justice will it take to make a difference? Can there ever be enough?
- Social justice is not a verb. What are we supposed to do in order to achieve social justice. Are we to be socially just? How do we do that? What does it look like? When someone refers to social justice, where is the call to action?
- Social justice is too big. I, personally, do not know how to make a dent in social injustice. Tell me what to do, and I will do it. Do I simply stay informed about all the hot areas of global injustice? Is that where I start? Where does its scope begin?
I propose we all stop using this limp and meaningless term. Instead, every preacher or blogger might consider using the phrase “doing the right thing,” which seems elementary on a page or a post but is quite complex in practice. Sure, it smacks of Beaver Cleaver, but its breadth is immense. Doing the right thing spans far wider than the specialized areas of suffering typically associated with social justice, although it includes them. Doing the right thing applies both to sex trafficking and to five o’clock traffic, so before we tackle the former, we’d better know how to handle the latter. We cry out against domestic abuse but then cuss out the guy who cut us off on the freeway.
“If you are faithful with little things,” Jesus said, “you will be faithful with large ones,” (Luke 16:10). Then he says the reverse is true. If we are not faithful with little things, then … well … Ouch. Truth hurts.
You see, everybody knows the worst day to wait tables is Sunday.
During my brief stint as a food server, I stood speechless, staring at the paltry tips when the church crowd came in for lunch. Some tables left no tip at all. I was making a whopping $2.75 an hour from the restaurant, therefore, I not only counted the tips, I counted on them. I smiled as big as I could and served with my whole heart to earn those tips.
Then one old guy in a Sunday suit left me a note: Here’s your tip … you have a great smile. But there was no money.
Look at us. We go after something as elusive as the poor while we miss ministering to the waitress who has been on her poor feet all day. It just isn’t right. Could it be that in our fervor to fell the biggest trees, we forget the forest in front of us?
Hear the simplicity of what I am saying: Social justice, if that is what you want to call it, starts in our own tiny sphere. Its beginnings are much smaller than we think. We cannot even attempt to make a move toward justice if we do not tip well in restaurants. The tip we give or don’t give says a lot about whether we are cheerful givers in more notable areas, as well.
What if we started tipping with wild abandon? Let’s try skipping the $1.50 Coke and the $7.00 appetizer and tipping an extra $8.50, instead. The “dinner extras” are the area to skimp, not the tip. Let’s tip more than they expect every time. Why would we ever be ordinary or average in this area of giving? God loves a cheerful giver and a cheerful tipper. They are one and the same.
I feel so strongly about the importance of tipping well, that I say, if any of us doesn’t have enough money to say thanks by tipping our server well, then we should stay home and serve dinner to ourselves. You and I will not be able to see the immediate effect of ten extra dollars toward a ministry, but we can and will see the immediate effect of ten extra dollars toward a tip. Kindness is the true currency. A generous (and even an undeserved) tip can affect a profound difference in the life of the man or woman who has served us. We must serve them back. This, my friends, is social justice. This is the right thing to do.
Do the right thing in restaurants. Do the right thing on the highway. Do the right thing in the classroom. Do the right thing in the office. Do the right thing in Wal-Mart (I know. It’s hard). Do the right thing at the mechanic. Do the right thing in the courtroom. Do the right thing in your home. Do the right thing everywhere you go.
Perhaps Solomon said it best. “Do not withhold good from those who deserve it, when it is within your power to act” (Proverbs 3:27).
Doing the right thing is within our power. Now act.