The Maricarmen case once again confronts us with an uncomfortable question: is it enough for something to be legal for it to be fair? From an evangelical perspective, private property is legitimate, but it can never be separated from responsibility, mercy, justice and love for one’s neighbour.

The image of Maricarmen Abascal, aged 87, being carried out on a stretcher from the house in Madrid where she had lived for 71 years is difficult to look at without asking questions.

ÚLTIMA HORA | Maricarmen es desahuciada de su casa al cuarto intento y todavía no sabe dónde se irá a vivir https://t.co/1yh2xxCgKQ

Álvaro García pic.twitter.com/0JDg2YGy4L

— EL PAÍS (@el_pais) September 23, 2026

Naturally, behind this lies a legal process, contracts, landlords, rights and a court ruling that must be respected. A democratic society needs laws and legal certainty.

But Christianity raises another question. Not just: Is it legal? But also: Is it fair? And yet another, even more uncomfortable one: What do we do for our neighbour when the exercise of the law leaves them with nowhere to live?

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Of course, the Bible does not provide property legislation for 21st-century Spain, but it contains principles clear enough that we as Christians cannot look on indifferently at a society in which having decent housing is becoming an unattainable dream for thousands of families, young people, pensioners and workers.

 

Housing is not merely an economic asset

From a biblical perspective, a house is never just a few square metres.

 From a biblical perspective, a house is never just a few square metres: it is home, security, remembrance

It is a home; it is security; it is family and a sense of belonging; it is memories and remembrance… it is the place where children are brought up, where the elderly are cared for, where strangers are welcomed, where meals are shared, and where people build a significant part of their lives.

That is why it is significant that one of the great aspirations for peace in the Old Testament is described precisely in this way: “Everyone will sit under their own vine and fig tree, and no one will make them afraid” (Micah 4:4).

The biblical image of a reconciled society includes a safe place where people can live without fear.

When a family spends a disproportionate share of its income on rent, when a young person with a job cannot become independent, when a mother fears each month that she will be unable to pay her rent, or when an elderly person ends up being evicted from the home where they have spent their whole life, we are not merely facing a housing problem.

We are facing a human problem.

The Bible recognises property, but it also limits our right to use it as we please

The evangelical tradition has historically defended the right to private property.

The Bible presupposes this. The eighth commandment: ‘You shall not steal’, would be meaningless if there were not something that legitimately belongs to another.

But the very same Bible that recognises property refuses to make it an absolute right. The biblical owner can never say: “This is mine, so I can do whatever I want with it”.

 We have possessions. But we are stewards. And one day we will have to answer to God for the way in which we have used what he has placed in our hands

For before we ask ourselves what we possess, Scripture reminds us who the true owner is: “The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it, the world, and all who live in it” (Psalm 24:1).

That is why the evangelical concept that perhaps best explains ownership is not simply possession, but stewardship. We have possessions. But we are stewards. And one day we will have to answer to God for the way in which we have used what he has placed in our hands.

Israel could own fields, houses and harvests, but God commanded them to set aside part of the harvest for the poor and the stranger. “When you reap the harvest of your land”, says Leviticus 19, “you shall not reap right to the very edge of it”. In other words: God recognised the landowner’s right to the field, but He also established responsibilities regarding that field. The right to property coexisted with the duty of solidarity.

 

There is a justice that goes beyond the civil code

This is probably one of the great challenges posed by Maricarmen’s case.

Something may be legally in order and yet raise a serious moral question for us.

Jesus denounced precisely that form of religiosity which could scrupulously observe certain rules whilst forgetting: “the most important aspects of the law: justice, mercy and faith” (Matthew 23:23)

The market may put a price on a home, but it cannot put a price on human dignity. The market is a magnificent tool but a terrible god

The law is necessary. Legal certainty is necessary. The rights of property owners must also be protected. Nor would Spain solve its housing problem by treating anyone who owns a second home as a suspect, indiscriminately penalising small property owners or condoning illegal occupation.

But defending private property does not oblige Christians to sanctify every result produced by the market. The market may put a price on a home, but it must not put a price on human dignity. The market is a magnificent tool for exchange. But it is a terrible god. That is why an evangelical perspective should avoid two oversimplifications. Not all property is exploitation. Nor is everything the market permits morally acceptable.

 

“Woe to those who join house to house!”

It is difficult to speak of housing from a biblical perspective without recalling a disturbing indictment by the prophet Isaiah: “Woe to those who join house to house, and add field to field, until they have taken up the whole land!” (Isaiah 5:8). The sin denounced was not simply the possession of houses. It was hoarding to the point of leaving others with no space.

The biblical prophets were particularly harsh when economic power ended up driving out the weakest. Amos denounced those who “sell the righteous for silver, and the poor for a pair of sandals”. Micah described those who “covet fields and seize them; and houses, and take them”.

The Bible principle remains: God pays particular attention to what happens when the economic power of some ends up crushing the vulnerability of others

We cannot automatically transpose those economic structures onto our present-day society. But the principle remains: God pays particular attention to what happens when the economic power of some ends up crushing the vulnerability of others.

That is why the Christian question regarding housing can never be solely: ‘How much can I get for this property?’ It should also be: ‘What responsibility do I have before God towards the person who needs to live in it?’

 

Jesus identifies with those needing help

Christianity also introduces an even more radical dimension. Jesus did not simply say that we should help the poor. He said, surprisingly, that he himself is present in the vulnerable: “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me” (Matthew 25:40)

That is why, for an evangelical church, helping a family pay their rent, supporting someone facing eviction, finding a room for a refugee or providing temporary accommodation for an abused woman are not activities peripheral to the Gospel. They are the Gospel made visible.

James put it in an even more unsettling way: “If a brother or sister is naked and in need of daily sustenance, and one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace; keep warm and well fed,’ but does not provide them with the things necessary for the body, what good is that?” (James 2:15–16)

We might put it this way today: If someone needs a roof over their head and our only response is to offer them some sound spiritual advice, something has gone wrong with our understanding of the Gospel.

 

And what do we as evangelical Christians do in these situations?

Far more than Spanish society generally realises. Probably also far more than we Evangelicals ourselves realise.

Spanish Protestant social work takes place away from the cameras: in local churches, small clothing banks, shelters, rehabilitation centres, children’s projects, support for migrants

Spanish Protestant social work remains remarkably invisible because much of it takes place away from the cameras: in local churches, small clothing banks, food banks, shelters, associations, rehabilitation centres, children’s projects, support for migrants, or financial aid discreetly provided to families going through a crisis.

A study by FEREDE on Protestant social work recorded 2,053 social projects carried out during 2022 and around 1.83 million people assisted, both within and outside Spain.

Organisations such as Alianza Solidaria, Diaconía, Misión Urbana, Remar, Betel and a long, very long list of thousands of smaller churches and social organisations, which work to combat human trafficking and sexual exploitation. Therapeutic communities treating addiction. Care homes and projects for older people. Prison chaplaincies supporting prisoners and their families. Projects working with migrants. Educational programmes for vulnerable children. International aid. Development cooperation. Soup kitchens. Clothing banks. Food distribution. Career guidance. Legal advice. Psychological support. And behind many of these initiatives are thousands of volunteers from local churches. Yes, the evangelical church is very much present there.

And housing also forms a significant part of its work. For example, through the ‘Vecindad Inclusiva’ project, Diaconía works with landlords and vulnerable families to facilitate access to rental accommodation, offering legal advice, support and mediation, particularly for vulnerable families, women who are victims of violence, migrants and people living in substandard housing. This is precisely one of the avenues we need to explore much further: bringing responsible landlords into contact with families in need of a home.

What if hundreds of evangelical landlords decided to offer some of their properties at reasonable rents, voluntarily foregoing the maximum market rent?

At the Spanish Evangelical Alliance, we also understand that the proclamation of the Gospel cannot be separated from our responsibility towards vulnerable people.

Alianza Solidaria was founded precisely out of the social work of the Spanish Evangelical Alliance. Its origins date back to the emergency fund which, from the Alliance’s earliest days, was used to respond to disasters and humanitarian needs. Today, its mission focuses particularly on enabling vulnerable children to thrive in safe environments and to have opportunities for the future.

It is yet another expression of a deeply evangelical conviction: the faith we profess must become a way of life that others can experience.

But we can still do much more. Recognising all that the evangelical churches are doing should not be a reason for us to rest on our laurels. It should challenge us.

The housing crisis may well require us to go one step further. What if hundreds of evangelical landlords decided to offer some of their properties at reasonable rents, voluntarily foregoing the maximum market rent? What if churches and organisations reviewed under-used premises, homes, residences or properties that could be temporarily converted into housing? What would happen if we set up emergency funds to prevent vulnerable families from losing their homes due to two or three months of hardship?

What would happen if our churches had specialist teams capable of supporting a family from the moment they receive an eviction notice? What would happen if we brought together lawyers, social workers, businesspeople, landlords, pastors and volunteers to seek solutions together?

Perhaps this is one of the conversations that Spanish evangelical churches need to initiate. Not to replace the state. Not to justify any form of public intervention. Not to demonise the landlord. Not to turn the pulpit into a partisan platform. But because loving one’s neighbour inevitably has economic consequences.

The Gospel is not merely about transforming structures. It truly transforms the way we relate to money, property, power and our neighbour

Zacchaeus understood this when he met Jesus. His conversion did not end with a religious experience. It reached into his purse. “Behold, Lord, I give half of my possessions to the poor”. And Jesus replied: “Today salvation has come to this house”.

It is striking. Salvation had come to a house and, as a result, Zacchaeus began to ask himself what he should do with what he possessed.

The Spanish evangelical movement should never have to choose between evangelism and social action. Jesus did both. He proclaimed the Kingdom. He fed the hungry. He forgave sins. He touched the sick. He called people to repentance. He defended the vulnerable. He preached eternal life. And he stopped to help the man lying by the roadside.

Our mission remains to proclaim clearly that the deepest need of every human being is to be reconciled with God through Jesus Christ. But precisely because we believe that every person has been created in the image of God, we cannot be indifferent to the conditions in which that person lives.

The Gospel is not merely about transforming structures. But a Gospel that truly transforms hearts inevitably ends up transforming the way we relate to money, property, power and our neighbour.

The housing crisis requires better public policies. It requires more supply, legal certainty, institutional accountability, responsible landlords, measures to combat abuse and speculation, and it also requires solidarity.

But perhaps the first question we as Christians should ask ourselves is not what ‘others’ should do; it is this: What can we do?

Because perhaps near our churches there is a mother who does not know how she will pay next month’s rent. A young person who works but cannot set up a home. A refugee to whom nobody is willing to let a room. A family that is two months’ rent away from losing their home. Or an elderly person who is afraid that one day someone will knock on their door and tell them they have to leave the place where they have spent their whole life.

And so Jesus’ question challenges us once more: “Which of these three do you think was his neighbour?” The expert in the law replied, “The one who showed mercy to him.” Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise”.

Marcos Zapata, evangelical pastor in Lugo and president of the Spanish Evangelical Alliance.