Hello! Life has been busy and filled with good things these past few months. One such good thing is a volunteer opportunity that some of my community members and I have been blessed to undertake at the Joseph's House Cafe, an overnight drop-in center for homeless men and women in Camden, NJ. Coming from Philadelphia, where our homeless services are struggling but still present, I was shocked to discover that there are almost no options in Camden for homeless individuals who need a safe place to sleep for the night. The mission of Joseph's House is to provide a space for 40 of those individuals to come in out of the cold, have a hot meal, and share some conversation and fellowship with volunteers and other guests. It's not intended to be an overnight shelter, yet from the moment they step in the door, guests start staking out claim to chairs and laying out blankets on the wooden floor. Although the drop-in center is open all night, many guests are asleep by 11.
As volunteers, my community members and I arrive at 9 pm, a few minutes before the doors open to guests. We heat up cans of soup, set up coffee and hot tea, and lay out any other food that's been donated to the center. Once the doors open, our tasks for the next two hours are to serve food and drinks, and then pretty much just hang out with the guests. Every week there are some familiar faces - the man whom I've affectionately nicknamed "Elvis" because he always has a song on his lips and a "thank you very much" in response to food and drink, another who creates beautiful purses and picture frames out of folded plastic bags - along with some new folks we haven't met before. The constant appearance of new faces is proof enough that our small ministry serves only a fraction of those in need of its services.
Volunteering at Joseph's House has been a welcome contrast to my full-time volunteer work at the shelter. Unlike in my job, there are very few expectations placed on me in the drop-in center. I'm able to simply be present to those around me - spending time listening to their stories, joking around and sharing some laughs, offering simple gifts of presence and silent prayers for their wellbeing. Sometimes, of course, it's challenging to accept the limitations of that role. I find myself wanting to act as a Case Manager even in that setting - to help guests apply for welfare and disability benefits, to connect them with counseling resources or drug and alcohol programs, to encourage them to set goals and work towards self-sufficiency. I constantly need to remind myself that I'm not there to be a social worker - I'm there to be a disciple of Christ. To see Christ in others, and to allow others to see Christ in me.
Still, my experiences at Joseph's House are the kind from which "social analysis" flows - that process of asking hard questions about why the people I encounter there are homeless and in need of shelter each night. There are many answers to those questions, none of which encompasses the full truth of the situation. Lack of jobs and affordable housing in Camden. Entrenched systems of racism, classism, xenophobia. Instability in families and in society as a whole. A failing public education system. Investment flowing out of the city, rather than into its neediest areas.
Each of the people I have met at Joseph's House are products of those social forces - yet, more importantly, I think - they are also each individual human beings, made in the image and likeness of God. Some are struggling with mental illness and substance abuse. Others simply made bad choices, or were the victims of forces beyond their control. All are complex human beings whose experiences of poverty and loss I cannot hope, nor claim, to understand.
St. Irenaeus wrote: "The glory of God is a human being fully alive". That line runs through my mind every night that I spend at Joseph's House. All of the guests at Joseph's House need a safe place to sleep, decent food to eat, and a source of income that will let them see beyond tomorrow. But each of them also needs - and deserves - hope and love, compassion and mercy, forgiveness and acceptance. Those are the intangible realities that make us truly alive, more than the food that sustains our bodies and the homes that shelter us from the cold. Yes, it is God's will that the hungry be fed, the naked be clothed, the homeless be given shelter - and yes, it is our responsibility and duty to endow the structures of our society with justice. But it is also God's will that the lost be found, the sorrowful be comforted, the despairing be given hope. Christ came to gather all people to Himself, so that each of us might know that we are loved with an everlasting and all-powerful love - the very Love that called the world into being, and that calls each of us to new life, even in our darkest hours.
My deepest longing for each of the men and women I have encountered there is that they come to know how deeply and wholly God loves them - and through that love, find the strength to journey through life's difficulties. And if through our presence at the drop-in center, we provide the guests with even the smallest tangible proof of that love - the sense that they themselves have intrinsic value, worth, and dignity - then that alone is worth all of the late-night drives across the Ben Franklin Bridge and sleepy Tuesday mornings.
To God alone be the glory. Amen.
As volunteers, my community members and I arrive at 9 pm, a few minutes before the doors open to guests. We heat up cans of soup, set up coffee and hot tea, and lay out any other food that's been donated to the center. Once the doors open, our tasks for the next two hours are to serve food and drinks, and then pretty much just hang out with the guests. Every week there are some familiar faces - the man whom I've affectionately nicknamed "Elvis" because he always has a song on his lips and a "thank you very much" in response to food and drink, another who creates beautiful purses and picture frames out of folded plastic bags - along with some new folks we haven't met before. The constant appearance of new faces is proof enough that our small ministry serves only a fraction of those in need of its services.
Volunteering at Joseph's House has been a welcome contrast to my full-time volunteer work at the shelter. Unlike in my job, there are very few expectations placed on me in the drop-in center. I'm able to simply be present to those around me - spending time listening to their stories, joking around and sharing some laughs, offering simple gifts of presence and silent prayers for their wellbeing. Sometimes, of course, it's challenging to accept the limitations of that role. I find myself wanting to act as a Case Manager even in that setting - to help guests apply for welfare and disability benefits, to connect them with counseling resources or drug and alcohol programs, to encourage them to set goals and work towards self-sufficiency. I constantly need to remind myself that I'm not there to be a social worker - I'm there to be a disciple of Christ. To see Christ in others, and to allow others to see Christ in me.
Still, my experiences at Joseph's House are the kind from which "social analysis" flows - that process of asking hard questions about why the people I encounter there are homeless and in need of shelter each night. There are many answers to those questions, none of which encompasses the full truth of the situation. Lack of jobs and affordable housing in Camden. Entrenched systems of racism, classism, xenophobia. Instability in families and in society as a whole. A failing public education system. Investment flowing out of the city, rather than into its neediest areas.
Each of the people I have met at Joseph's House are products of those social forces - yet, more importantly, I think - they are also each individual human beings, made in the image and likeness of God. Some are struggling with mental illness and substance abuse. Others simply made bad choices, or were the victims of forces beyond their control. All are complex human beings whose experiences of poverty and loss I cannot hope, nor claim, to understand.
St. Irenaeus wrote: "The glory of God is a human being fully alive". That line runs through my mind every night that I spend at Joseph's House. All of the guests at Joseph's House need a safe place to sleep, decent food to eat, and a source of income that will let them see beyond tomorrow. But each of them also needs - and deserves - hope and love, compassion and mercy, forgiveness and acceptance. Those are the intangible realities that make us truly alive, more than the food that sustains our bodies and the homes that shelter us from the cold. Yes, it is God's will that the hungry be fed, the naked be clothed, the homeless be given shelter - and yes, it is our responsibility and duty to endow the structures of our society with justice. But it is also God's will that the lost be found, the sorrowful be comforted, the despairing be given hope. Christ came to gather all people to Himself, so that each of us might know that we are loved with an everlasting and all-powerful love - the very Love that called the world into being, and that calls each of us to new life, even in our darkest hours.
My deepest longing for each of the men and women I have encountered there is that they come to know how deeply and wholly God loves them - and through that love, find the strength to journey through life's difficulties. And if through our presence at the drop-in center, we provide the guests with even the smallest tangible proof of that love - the sense that they themselves have intrinsic value, worth, and dignity - then that alone is worth all of the late-night drives across the Ben Franklin Bridge and sleepy Tuesday mornings.
To God alone be the glory. Amen.
- 11:34 AM
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