Foreign Aid Is Retreating. The Church Must Not

Yahoo

12-02-2025

Medical Teams staff treats a hospitalized child as her mother looks on in Tanzania in 2024 Credit - Courtesy Medical Teams International
In a matter of weeks, we have witnessed what feels like a seismic shift in U.S. foreign-aid policy. Signaling the priorities of his new Administration, President Trump has paused nearly all U.S. foreign-aid programs for a comprehensive review while dismantling USAID in a way that has upended the international humanitarian and development ecosystem. While a waiver has been announced for select humanitarian programs, much of the infrastructure that has sustained vulnerable communities for decades now stands in limbo.
As the president and CEO of Medical Teams International, a faith-based organization that provides life-saving health care in crisis-affected areas around the world, I've seen firsthand what happens when external support for these communities in extreme vulnerability disappears. Health facilities close. Medicine stocks run dry. And millions of lives, already lacking access to the basic health care that human dignity requires, fall into even greater risk of preventable death and suffering. For those of us in the humanitarian world, it is tempting to see this moment as a crisis—perhaps even an unraveling. But history tells a different story.
In Dominion: How the Christian Revolution Remade the World, historian Tom Holland argues that the very concept of humanitarianism—the impulse to serve those in poverty, in need, and suffering—did not begin with modern governments but with Christianity itself. It was Christianity's radical claim that every human being, no matter how powerless, carries inherent dignity that upended the values of the ancient world. This idea was revolutionary in Rome, where power and strength were the coin of the realm. It remains revolutionary today, in a world that often prioritizes national interest over human need.
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We must acknowledge, of course, that the Church has not always lived up to this ideal. It has failed in profound ways throughout history—complicity in colonialism, alignment with power, moral hypocrisy among them. Yet, for all its failures, the Church has also done immense good. It has been a powerful force in caring for the poor, sick, and suffering, and—perhaps most importantly—shaped a world where even secular institutions assume that people in vulnerability and crisis deserve protection. The very foundation of our humanitarian ethic is rooted in a Christian view of human dignity.
Long before governments created and funded institutions like USAID, the World Bank, and the United Nations, it was people of faith who took up the call to serve. Christians built the first hospitals, led abolitionist movements, and pioneered global humanitarian work. In the slums of Calcutta, it was Mother Teresa, not a government agency, who nursed the dying. In war-torn Sudan, it was missionary doctors, not diplomats, who set broken bones and treated malaria. In refugee camps from Syria to Uganda, it is faith-based organizations—including my own—that continue to provide care where others cannot or will not.
There is no denying that U.S. government support has played an essential role in international humanitarian aid and development over the past century. Programs funded by American taxpayers have helped nearly eradicate polio, slow the spread of HIV/AIDS, and lift millions out of extreme poverty. But foreign aid has always been, at least in part, a political tool. Governments give aid largely in line with their strategic interests. When priorities shift, funding can disappear overnight.
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That is exactly what we are seeing now. Executive Order 14169 is not the first time a U.S. Administration has changed course on foreign aid, and it will not be the last. But the Church's call to serve is not subject to political cycles or government funding. Nor does it originate or terminate by executive order. The biblical command to love our neighbor—whether that neighbor is across the street or across the ocean—comes from God Almighty.
Martin Luther King Jr. once said, 'The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.' But that arc does not bend because of government programs, nor does it snap under the weight of their withdrawal. It bends because God's kingdom is advancing, and we are invited to walk in step with it.
If U.S. government support for humanitarian aid is retreating, then the Church must advance. Not simply to fill a void left by the withdrawal of the U.S. government, but to live into the fullness of the Church's calling and purpose:
1. The Church must remember its first calling. Jesus' teaching makes clear that feeding the hungry, caring for the sick, and loving those who are suffering is not a supplementary ministry of the Church—it is central to the Gospel. While it is remarkable that we live in a world where governments and institutions provide so much humanitarian aid, the Church must not outsource its calling. This means doing more—caring for the vulnerable in our own communities and going to the margins where suffering persists. But it also means giving more—for businesses, foundations, and individuals to give generously to ensure that this work is resourced, both locally and globally, despite potential cuts to government funding.
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2. The Church must continue to call leaders to righteousness and compassion. From the prophets of the Old Testament to the early Church and beyond, God's people have always been called to hold rulers and authorities accountable. The Church's role in caring for those in need does not absolve governments of their responsibility to do the same. This is not a zero-sum equation—governments and the Church are not competitors in caring for those in need, but partners. When political leaders turn away from the suffering, the Church must not only fill the gap but also challenge the retreat. We must remind those in power that foreign aid is not simply charity or a handout; it is a moral imperative and a strategic necessity. Programs that fight hunger, disease, displacement, and poverty are not only expressions of compassion but investments in a more stable, just, and peaceful world.
Historians like Rodney Stark and Niall Ferguson have chronicled how many of the institutions we take for granted—hospitals, schools, social services—were built not by governments, but by the Church. It was the Church that cared for plague victims when Roman elites fled. It was the Church that built the first universities in medieval Europe. It was the Church that championed human rights before governments enshrined them into law.
While decidedly imperfect, there is a virtuous legacy of the Church we inherit. And this is the Church's calling and purpose we must now reclaim.
The shifting political landscape should not shake our resolve. If anything, it should remind us that our work has never been about government funding. It has always been about answering a call higher than politics, responding to needs greater than our own, and trusting that justice will prevail—not because governments demand it, but because it is what God invites us into. The arc of the moral universe is long. And though governments may rise and fall, it is God who bends history toward His kingdom. The Church must not sit idly by and wait for that moment—we must rise up and meet it.
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