Finding Generosity in Hard Relationships

Written by Erin Richer

I have these relationships in my life that have driven me to therapy.

People toward whom I feel utterly incapable of feeling any amount of kindness. One speaks overly affirming words to my face while verbally destroying her own family members in practically the same sentence. I’m ashamed to say it took me far too long to realize she does the same to me with others. I’ve lost all desire to share anything with this woman—including my time, and especially my heart.

Another woman makes connection impossible yet seems to desire it greatly. No matter how much of myself I offer, I get nothing in return except a sense of silent judgment. I want so badly to stop offering any of myself because it leads to no benefit to me. Yet she pursues and I can’t shake the feeling there’s a reason—something uncomfortable into which I’m called to lean.

Another provides many opportunities to serve her with little interest in me. This is exactly the kind of relationship from which I typically run. But again, something’s drawing me to stay close and lean in.

Needing to work through these complex feelings aloud, I diligently sought a counselor versed in Psychology yet committed to the faith. My questions are complicated and, quite frankly, it’s my theology that has me stuck.

I share about these things in therapy with the caveat that I know what boundaries are, but therein lies the conundrum: I don’t want to just be mentally healthy; I want to be more like Christ.

Judas often comes to mind as a challenging illustration of Christ and boundaries. Jesus shared everything with Judas, including His last supper. In fact, it’s at this last supper, three years into ministry together, and long after Peter declared Jesus “Messiah, Son of the Living God,” when Judas is still addressing Him merely as “teacher” as the others call Him “Lord.” Jesus never ostracized him or offered him anything less than the other twelve. 

But He knew. 

This is the passage that tells me “healthy boundaries” are not exactly the standard I hope to reach. And yet I do see evidence of boundaries in Scripture, the most poignant and clear being that the Father owns the rights to the Kingdom—a very real, yet unseen boundary exists between His holiness and our unholiness; one that, apart from the work of Christ, we could not cross. And so I wonder…

How? What is this supposed to look like? What do I in-real-life do when I know I’m going to be betrayed, when I feel certain there’s no benefit to me in a relationship that God has clearly placed in my life? These are the questions I ask my counselor in therapy. And I’m relieved when she offers me no psychological push-back but rather room to wrestle. She knows, as I know, the standard for which I’m reaching is where true life lies. Honestly, I’m not sure she has the answers I’m hoping to find. But I appreciate the affirmation of her tear-pooled eyes and space.

And so… as He often does… God brought me face to face with the answer in Luke 6. I’ve read it at least fifty times before. You have, too. This is why my favorite part of this passage is verse 27: “To you who are ready for the truth, I say this…” There’s so much grace in that preface. 

I was never ready for the truth He drops hard here until now. They are illogical answers to impossible questions. They are His reply to how to sup with Judas, how to spend three years of ministry with twelve men who will abandon Him in His darkest hour, and who quite frankly, are partially—perhaps even mostly—in it for notoriety and their potential placement in what they think will be an earthly kingdom. I lay before you Jesus’ call to generosity in Luke 6:28-36. It’s really a few of the highlights that stood out to me from the Message version. 

When someone gives you a hard time, respond with the supple moves of prayer for that person. If someone slaps you in the face [or backstabs you], stand there and take it… If someone takes unfair advantage of you, use the occasion to practice the servant life. No more payback. Live generously…

…Help and give without expecting a return. You’ll never—I promise—regret it. Live out this God created identity the way our Father lives toward us, generously and graciously, even when we’re at our worst. Our Father is kind; you be kind.

The generosity of Christ supping with Judas comes from the fact that there was an impenetrable (by us) boundary between us and God, and Christ chose to surrender not just His boundary but His entire self in an unfathomable reach of generosity because He loves us even in our backstabbing, judgmental, deceitful, in-it-for-ourselves states. My mind cannot comprehend this kind of love because it’s other worldly. I haven’t the capacity. Christ the King—knowing Who He is and to Whom He belongs—obliterated the boundary between us and God by submitting Himself to ridicule, mockery, human spit, beatings, and ultimately, murder. 

As it turns out, it’s not a boundary-less life I’m chasing at all. It’s a complete crucifixion of my flesh and all to which it feels entitled. 

Here’s the thing about generosity. You can only be generous with something if you first have it to give. We can only surrender ourselves, if we have a self to surrender. To be ready to hear this call to generosity, indeed the the hardest of Jesus’ teachings—the highest of His callings—we must first unwaveringly know our value and identity. No one else gets the head nor heart space to cause us to question it. Do we know that we know that we know this truth: We are in Christ, we have been set apart as both holy and righteous, adored by the King of King and Lord of Lords, called to be a people separate from the world. We are seen through and through and called “Beloved.”

Yet here it is… we are also called to the world, to be His representatives here on earth and to love the world as Jesus did—to lay it all down. It is by the power of His Spirit alone that we lay down, not our boundaries, but our very lives, and let those people He brings into our space—regardless of how they take advantage, abuse, and disrespect us—returning all of it with the supple moves of prayer, generosity, and by-His-grace-alone-miraculous-love, knowing that He has called us specifically to be in their life. By His Spirit, we can see them through and through and call them, “Beloved.”

For me, this season seems more about God pulling back the curtain on my selfish heart—revealing the impossibility of the transformation I desire. Not to condemn me, but rather to bring me to a place of desperation. It’s tempting to be discouraged. Even when I do things to intentionally live generously, they are still acts of fleshly obedience—often a righteous act from my wounded, unrighteous pride. I don’t feel close to acting out generosity from my genuine self. However, even though I can see how hopelessly far I have yet to grow in living generously, my hope beats strong.

So, for those of you who are also ready for the Truth in Luke 6, here’s your invitation to walk this way with me: In those relationships to which we know He’s called us, when He so gently nudges our flesh to reveal our selfish hearts… When He points to moments that we gave expecting a return, or offered ourselves in hopes of receiving a piece of another, of guarding our hearts for fear our pride won’t be protected… Let’s agree to rest in trust that He is who He says He is, we are who He says we are, and He will do in us what He said He would do. 

In our obedience of confession and repentance we are His workmanship who He created for a purpose and for His glory. He will finish this work He’s begun. If we truly desire it, He will make us more genuinely generous. He will make us more and more like Him. All glory to our gracious and generous God.

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