Take Advantage of Me

Every Sunday, I take the exit off the highway towards my church, and at the stoplight, there is always at least one man either panhandling or selling newspapers. I rarely have cash, so I don't often give them money or buy a paper, but the sight challenges me every time. I've talked to many people, both Christian and not, who have various rationales for whether or not they should give money to panhandlers. I think the argument that fascinates me most is that you don't want to be taken advantage of—that you want to make sure your money goes to good use.

Lately, I've been wondering if maybe we are called to be taken advantage of by others. I don't know exactly where he says this, but Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a German pastor-theologian who died in a Nazi concentration camp and is a personal hero of mine, said that this is the case. He said that we serve a God who allowed himself to be taken advantage of to the point of being crucified, and, as people living in the shadow of the cross, we should not cling to our pride so much that we fail to participate in the crucifixion by taking up our own cross.

This has come up for me a lot lately because I've gotten myself into some situations and relationships where I sometimes wonder if I should feel taken advantage of. Last summer, I taught music at a new kids' program at my church, and I formed bonds with several of the children that lasted past the summer, particularly with a few who live near me. One brother-sister combo who went to the camp live in a challenging home situation and have begun to look to me for all kinds of support. Most recently, this has meant that several times in the past few weeks I have been woken up around 7 a.m. by a phone call from my 12-year-old friend asking for a ride to school because she missed her bus. More than once, when I've dragged myself out of bed to go pick her up, one or more of her 6 siblings has also begged a ride.

Something in me starts to resent the early-morning phone calls and the gas I'm using driving these kids to school, but I can't quite feel that way. For one thing, I can see a tendency of the haves to exercise power over the have-nots, even—and especially—when the haves do something good for the have-nots. Good deeds might be done out of a selfless desire to follow Christ, but if we are frustrated when we don't see gratitude or when handouts aren't used "correctly," we have moved from serving to controlling. When we dictate the terms of our justice and charity, it becomes simply another means of maintaining the status quo and socioeconomic inequality.

I'm 21 years old and I have my own car. I attend one of the most prestigious universities in the country. My parents love me and continue to support me financially and otherwise. I can't pride myself in having these things that others don't; and, in fact, I believe that I am obligated as a Christian to share my various forms of wealth with others without micromanaging the ways in which that plays out. As long as I live in a society that makes a 12-year-old immigrant girl one of the downtrodden, I will get out of bed at 7 in the morning to drive that girl to school.