October 18, 2025 by: Matt Smethurst

Beware of Being “Middle-Class in Spirit”

It’s no secret that professing Christians who are passionate about justice can be wary about justification, and those passionate about justification can be wary about justice.¹ The latter danger is something Keller both lamented and understood. Justice talk has often been co-opted by theological liberals who’ve left the gospel behind. That’s a tragedy and a danger. But the solution isn’t to avoid the subject altogether. Because Scripture is clear about God’s love for justice, we don’t have to reengineer orthodoxy in order to value it.

But how does grasping justification—God’s declaration that a sinner is righteous before him, through faith alone—naturally lead to justice? There are a few ways. First, rightly understanding justification brings about an awareness of the lengths to which Jesus Christ went to rescue you. God’s character is so holy—his law so righteous and pure—that nothing less than the death of his incarnate Son was sufficient to save you from his just wrath. That’s how soaring the standard is. Justification, therefore, presupposes an enormously high view of God’s commitment to justice—which will inevitably affect our own.

Second, grasping justification changes our attitude toward the needy. “Blessed are the poor in spirit,” Jesus promised, “for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (Matt. 5:3). Spiritual poverty and material poverty are not identical; the former spans economic classes since it’s about humility rather than money. Nonetheless, there is a connection—hence Jesus’s comparison. The spiritually poor have, like many of the materially poor, exhausted their own resources. They know they’re bankrupt.

Poverty of spirit, in other words, is the death knell of condescension. Even if you are financially stable, the gospel moves you to admit that when you’re looking at a destitute person, you’re looking at a spiritual mirror. So beware, warned Keller, of being “middle-class in spirit.” As a pastor, he found that “those who are middle-class in spirit tend to be indifferent to the poor, but [those] who come to grasp the gospel of grace and become spiritually poor find their hearts gravitating toward the materially poor.”²

Finally, God’s justifying grace has the explosive power to change not just our attitude toward the poor but also the attitude of the poor. The Lord Jesus came, in fulfillment of Isaiah’s scroll, proclaiming good news to the poor (Luke 4:18; cf. Isa. 61:1). While that doesn’t mean his gospel is irrelevant to the rich, it’s good news only to those who have come to the end of themselves. Think about the logic of James 1:9–10: “Let the lowly brother boast in his exaltation, and the rich in his humiliation, because like a flower of the grass he will pass away.” The statement is startlingly paradoxical. Keller observes,

James proposes that the well-off person who becomes a believer would spiritually benefit by especially thinking about her sinfulness before God, since out in the world she gets nothing but acclaim. On the other hand, the poor person who becomes a believer would spiritually benefit by especially thinking about her new high spiritual status, since out in the world she gets nothing but disdain.³

The gospel of Jesus Christ contains incomparable power to dignify those the world ignores. The last thing the disadvantaged need is a press release that reads, “Behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people: God helps those who help themselves!” The gospel is infinitely better news. As Keller remarked at a conference, “Give the self-help thing to the poor, and you’re going to destroy them. Give the gospel to the poor, and you’re going to transform them.”⁴ No wonder widows, slaves, and the poor—the scum of Roman society—flocked to Christianity. They’d never heard a message like it.

As surely as justification precedes sanctification, God’s great intention is to declare us just—and then make us so. Operating as if justification has little to do with justice, then, is like operating as if faith has little to do with deeds.⁵ Such logic was inconceivable to the biblical authors.

Evangelism and Social Action

In a section of Generous Justice titled “Doing Justice and Preaching Grace,” Keller deploys characteristic nuance to shed light on this discussion—particularly the relationship between word ministry (evangelism) and deed ministry (justice and mercy).

He first warns against conflating the two: “Doing justice can indeed lead people to give the message of gospel grace a hearing, but to consider deeds of mercy and justice to be identical to gospel proclamation is a fatal confusion.” Keller instead exhorts us to see them as existing in an “asymmetrical, inseparable relationship.”⁶ The phrase is clunky but careful.

Tim Keller on the Christian Life

Matt Smethurst

Matt Smethurst distills over 40 years of Tim Keller’s teaching topic by topic—drawing from popular books to lesser-known conference talks, interviews, and sermons—to present practical insight for generations of readers eager to grow in their walk with Christ.

Evangelism and justice are biblically inseparable. The gospel produces genuine concern for the poor, and deeds of justice can open the door for the gospel message. The relationship is symbiotic: “Justification by faith leads to doing justice, and doing justice can make many seek to be justified by faith.”⁷ But what about the asymmetrical part? Keller explains that while both aspects are important, even necessary, they are not so in the same way. There is a unique priority on evangelism given its eternal significance: “Evangelism is the most basic and radical ministry possible to a human being,” he contends.

This is true not because the spiritual is more important than the physical, but because the eternal is more important than the temporal. . . . If there is a God, and if life with him for eternity is based on having a saving relationship with him, then the most loving thing anyone can do for [their] neighbor is help him or her to a saving faith in that God.

After providing several scriptural examples, Keller challenges us to grasp the balance he carefully holds in tension:

If we confuse evangelism and social justice, we lose what is the single most unique service that Christians can offer the world. Others, alongside believers, can feed the hungry. But Christians have the gospel of Jesus by which men and women can be born again into the certain hope of eternal life. No one else can make such an invitation. However, many Christians who care intensely about evangelism see the work of doing justice as a distraction for Christians that detracts from the mission of evangelism. That is also a grave error.

Evangelism and justice are biblically inseparable.

Differences in theology, temperament, and experience mean that potentially every Christian—and even every congregation—will be prone to one of these errors more than the other. None of us is perfectly balanced. Some might tend toward a heart for evangelism at the expense of justice, and others toward a heart for justice at the expense of evangelism.

Keller’s message here is twofold. First, we shouldn’t separate what God has joined together, as if we know better.  You aren’t more sensitive to a given danger than God is (though it’s possible you’re more paranoid). But second, we must remember: Not all dangers are equally harmful since not all doctrines are equally weighted. If you’ve been missing the importance of justice, sound doctrine is right there to correct you. But if you lose sound doctrine, what you’re calling justice is likely unworthy of the name. This is why evangelism must remain the leading partner in the inseparable union. In 1992, three years after its first gathering, Redeemer Presbyterian launched Hope for New York to mobilize funding and volunteers for organizations meeting physical needs in the city. “The world isn’t accustomed to a church that cares just as much about expositional preaching as it does about justice for the poor,” notes Collin Hansen. But from the outset at Redeemer, those goals were “theologically inseparable.” Far from viewing mercy ministry as a distraction, Keller knew it would help skeptical neighbors see the good news of Jesus as plausible. “Conversion growth looks like accruing power,” explains Hansen, “unless those converts sacrifice to meet the needs of their neighbors, regardless of whether they share faith in Jesus.”  Yet even while seeking a balanced approach, Keller kept the priority on proclamation.  This, of course, bears significant implications for discussions about the mission of the church.