Some might respond, “Isn’t this a false dichotomy?”
But I don’t think it is.
The church has a single, two-fold mission: to preach the gospel and to raise believers who are able and equipped to do the same. This mission thrives when the church—its many members—works together as one Body to carry it out.
Sometimes, though, a subtle shift happens. In our desire to meet real human needs—and those needs are real—the church can lose sight of her primary calling. Without even meaning to, we can slide into becoming primarily a humanitarian organization. Acts of compassion matter deeply. But when either individual believers or entire congregations begin to prioritize “good works” over gospel proclamation and discipleship, time, resources, and energy can be diverted away from the church’s central calling.
Preach the Gospel, Use Words?
The church is called to preach the gospel. That’s not just one task among many—it’s the one thing we are commissioned to do. Jesus described His own ministry as one of proclaiming the good news of the Kingdom (Luke 4:23; Matt. 4:17, 23), and as His followers, we are called to walk in His footsteps. This proclamation can take many forms—formal or informal, to friends or strangers, in synagogues or on street corners—but the mission remains the same: proclaim the good news of salvation in Christ.
But here’s the danger: when we shift our focus from Christ to merely human needs, we risk becoming centered on people rather than on the One who came to save them. That’s the difference between being Christ-ian and simply being human-itarian. Serving the poor, the sick, and the marginalized absolutely matters—but those good works should flow from the gospel, not replace it.
You’ve likely heard the phrase, “Preach the gospel, and if necessary, use words.”
But consider the extended version:
Preach the gospel, and if necessary, use words.
Feed the hungry, and if necessary, use food.
When you put it that way, the limitations of the original phrase become clear.
We can’t equate feeding the hungry with preaching the gospel. Both are good. Both are necessary. But they aren’t the same. Scripture says faith comes by hearing (Rom. 10:17). The gospel must be spoken, shared, proclaimed. We must “gossip the gospel.”
Unfortunately, when this distinction blurs, we start to see “mission drift.” Churches, ministries, and even entire institutions can lose their gospel focus.
A Historical Warning: Universities and Hospitals
Take, for example, some of the earliest universities in America—Harvard, Yale, Princeton. These schools were founded by people of deep Christian faith who saw education as a means of forming godly men and women for gospel service. Training ministers, missionaries, and faithful Christians in other vocations was at the heart of their mission.
But over time, many of these institutions shifted. Prestige began to take precedence over proclamation. Today, they are some of the most secular academic environments in the country.
Rod Dreher once shared a conversation with a Christian law professor from an Ivy League school who expressed deep concern about the future of religious liberty. This professor said that many of his colleagues at elite law schools not only aren’t religious—they don’t even understand what religion is, or why it matters.
In other words, the very institutions founded to train gospel workers are now producing leaders who are largely unfamiliar with or indifferent to the gospel.
The same can be said for hospitals. Many of the great American medical institutions—Mayo Clinic, St. Jude’s, Johns Hopkins—were born out of Christian compassion and gospel conviction. Their founders saw healing the sick as a way to serve others in the name of Christ.
But again, over time, many of these institutions became secular. Understandably, they sought to hire the best doctors and researchers—regardless of faith. In doing so, their original gospel motivation was slowly sidelined. Today, they continue to provide excellent and necessary medical care, but often with no remaining connection to the church or the message of Christ.
The focus on healing the body eclipsed the desire to proclaim the healing of the soul.
What’s the Risk?
Let’s be clear: humanitarian organizations are doing meaningful, often extraordinary, work. We should be thankful for them and support their efforts where appropriate (a topic for another time). But that’s not the end of our calling—it’s part of the means by which we live it out.
The church’s mission isn’t to meet material needs. It’s to proclaim the gospel of Jesus Christ and disciple those who respond.
When that mission gets flipped—when method becomes mission—we risk serious loss. Financial support for gospel work dwindles. Volunteers shift their focus elsewhere. Spiritual infants are left without shepherds. Those within the church who are hurting are often overlooked, while our best efforts and energy go outward.
We grieve over “church hurt,” lament shallow conversions, and wonder why there’s so little depth or discipleship—while our time, our money, and our calendars are being devoted to causes outside the household of faith.
Is it possible that it feels easier—perhaps even more noble or socially acceptable—to feed the hungry than to proclaim a gospel that confronts sin? The gospel, after all, can be offensive. It has always been a stumbling block. But it is also the power of God for salvation.
The world doesn’t just need good deeds. It needs a vibrant, faithful Church—rooted in Christ, centered on His gospel, and committed to raising mature disciples.
Mission and Method
The church is not called to be a humanitarian organization. It is called to proclaim the gospel of the Kingdom.
Mission: preach the gospel, make disciples.
Method: do good to all, especially to the household of faith (Gal. 6:10).
Let’s keep the mission central—and let our methods serve it well.