When “Personal Responsibility” Isn’t Enough: A Response to Josh Howerton on SNAP Benefits
This is a response to well-known and frankly problematic pastor Josh Howerton’s post about SNAP benefits. I included the main section I’m responding to, but you can read his full post here. My goal here is to respond to this particularly popular way of thinking that privatizes most all charity, not to propose an entire political or economic system.
Where I’d push back most is on the idea that all giving in Scripture was just voluntary or personal.
The Jubilee in Leviticus 25 was a radical reset built right into Israel’s law — debts forgiven, land returned, people set free. That wasn’t a suggestion; it was commanded. God was saying, “the land is Mine.”
So yes, generosity was personal, but mercy was also structural. There were guardrails in God’s law that kept wealth from being hoarded and the poor from being crushed generation after generation.
And honestly, whatever we’re doing right now in America isn’t working.
Over 19 million kids are growing up without a father in the home — and nearly half of those kids live in poverty. The U.S. has one of the highest child-poverty rates in the developed world — about 18%, compared to 5–7% in places like Denmark or Finland.
Gun violence and despair are rising while our social safety net keeps shrinking. And now, food-stamp cuts are set to hit millions more.
I’ve worked on the ground internationally — in Central Africa and in the inner city here in the U.S. — and the kind of poverty and despair we see here often shocks my friends from other developed countries. Whatever the cause, we can’t keep pretending that “a too-generous welfare state” is the problem.
Even Pagan Empires Understood This
Societies have known for thousands of years: if you don’t invest in people, your whole system collapses.
Even ancient Rome had the annona — a government grain dole beginning in the 2nd century BC — to make sure citizens had bread. It wasn’t motivated by compassion but by survival. They realized a starving population meant chaos and collapse.
Even Adam Smith, the so-called father of capitalism, said:
“No society can surely be flourishing and happy, of which the far greater part of the members are poor and miserable.”
(Wealth of Nations)
He argued that a society has to invest in justice, education, and basic provision — not to control the market, but to protect it.
And more recent history proves it: the Marshall Plan, the GI Bill, and countless social investments built stability and middle-class prosperity. Meanwhile, countries that built strong, well-designed safety nets actually lowered poverty without creating the dependency we fear.
The Church’s Role Is Central — But Not a sufficent replacement.
I absolutely believe the church should lead in caring for the poor.
American Christians give an estimated $150–170 billion a year through churches and religious nonprofits — an incredible amount of generosity. It’s also been shown that these front line points of service can truely save on operational costs.
But that’s still a fraction of the roughly $1.2 trillion the U.S. government spends on all social safety net programs combined. The church makes a real impact, but it’s simply not large enough to replace that entire framework in a nation of 330 million people.
And honestly, it shouldn’t be a competition. Many of the most effective efforts happen when churches and public systems work together — through food distribution, foster care, addiction recovery, reentry programs, housing support, refugee resettlement, and more. That’s partnership, not replacement.
You see this most clearly in the historic Black church.
For generations, Black congregations have been the backbone of social uplift — founding schools, hospitals, and mutual-aid societies long before the government offered any safety net. During the Civil Rights era, those same churches organized voter drives, job programs, and neighborhood cooperatives that changed the moral direction of the nation. I am thankul for the experiences I have had serving under majority black leadership in majority black churches and black church networks.
They didn’t try to replace government structures, but to partner with them — filling the cracks with faith, dignity, and persistence. That’s a living picture of what subsidiarity and grace can look like together: the Church meeting spiritual and relational needs, and the state creating the stability where that work can take root and grow.
What’s always struck me in those settings is how Black Christians often look at their struggling relatives or neighbors — not as “failures” or “trash,” but with the humble conviction, “There go I but for the grace of God.” There isn’t the same assumption that society is naturally bent in your favor, or that if someone falls behind it’s entirely their fault. There’s a deep awareness of shared struggle, grace, and community responsibility — the sense that my brother’s burden is mine too.
When our son in the ministry Dylan was serving in South Norfolk, Virginia, we helped set up part of their old building for a food pantry. There was pushback —mostly from conservative majority white churches. But we’ve taught our team here in Gloucester City that compassion has to have both heart and structure. Part of what the church is meant to do is “serve the poor.”
Every month our church provides literal tons of food to over 100 families. We target fresh produce — the hardest thing to afford near the end of the month. That effort takes a small army of volunteers, donated trucks, and a combination of church giving, nonprofit grants, and yes, some government partnerships.
Helping people in crisis isn’t just handing out food. It’s helping them get ID cards, housing, healthcare, and hope — walking with them until they can rebuild. That’s discipleship too. And to do that work well, you need real friendship, miracle power and material support.
My frustration is that many of the same voices who loudly critique the government for helping the poor — insisting the Church should take full responsibility instead — often belong to churches that are either deeply suspicious of that kind of ministry or only engage it on the margins. It becomes something they can point to as an advertisement or a way to create an oppertunity for their core congregation feel engaged, not something at the core of who they are.
God’s Design Has Always Been Both Personal and Structural
Biblically, this isn’t new.
God’s law paired personal compassion with systemic justice — the gleaning laws (Lev. 19; Deut. 24) required landowners to leave the edges of their fields for the poor and the immigrant. The “poor tithe” (Deut. 14) every third year redistributed wealth locally to care for widows, orphans, and strangers.
All of that was commanded — not optional — because God wanted mercy woven into the fabric of society itself.
That’s why I see a role for government too — not as a replacement for the church, but as an expression of God’s common grace.
Romans 13 calls governing authorities “God’s servants for your good.” That includes restraining evil, but also promoting the good: justice, peace, and human dignity.
A government that feeds the hungry, shelters the homeless, or helps families find stability is — in some small, imperfect way — participating in that good.
Nobody’s asking for some cut-and-paste theocracy from the pages of Leviticus into our modern democratic republic. But if we really believe Scripture reveals God’s heart for human life together, then its principles have to speak into how we form our society — not just our private virtue. The Bible’s concern for justice, mercy, and neighbor love isn’t a museum piece; it’s meant to shape how communities actually work.
The New Testament’s Radical Discovery of the Individual
The gospel introduced something the ancient world had never seen — a radical discovery of the individual.
Every person, rich or poor, slave or free, male or female, was called to a direct relationship with God through Christ. That’s the heartbeat of freedom.
But that revelation was never meant to morph into modern rugged individualism — the idea that “I don’t owe anything to anyone” and “I don’t need anyone.”
Biblical individual dignity doesn’t mean isolated independence. It means each person’s heart is awakened to love God and neighbor. When we read the Bible only through the lens of our political systems — right or left — we risk turning that freedom into greed and selfishness on the right and a self-definition untied from God, and what is healthy for the community on the left.
Our political solutions may differ, but to argue against mercy being woven into the very systems that govern us goes too far.
The Real Goal
I want to preach responsibility, work ethic, and generosity.
But let’s also tell the truth: the Bible’s vision of justice was never just “each person give privately.”
It was personal generosity and structural compassion working together.
When we get both right — when the church leads in mercy and the state acts justly — people flourish.
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