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There’s an interesting tension in this kind of ministry: joy and heartache.
Whether we serve as volunteers or as our vocation, helping others brings genuine joy. I hear from our volunteers that when they serve, they leave with full hearts which is a beautiful thing. But if we carry away only that feeling of satisfaction, we risk missing something essential.
Christ calls us not only to rejoice in serving our neighbors, but also to share in their burdens.
At our most recent Community Meal, I met José. He was a slight man, his face weathered beyond his years. He was greeted warmly and offered a boxed lunch. As he walked away, he looked over his shoulder and asked quietly if he could have a second meal for his wife. Gladly, I gave it to him and asked his name.
His face lit up. “My name is José, and that’s my wife over there,” he said, pointing across the street. Beneath a fire escape stood a small, thin woman beside a few bags of belongings. They had no home. José told me they were sleeping in the park.
I asked if there was anything else we could provide. He had already chosen some clothing from our table. Then I remembered a recent donation. “Towels!” I said. “Someone just donated towels. Could you use them?” His eager smile said everything.
Returning from inside the church, I handed him the bag, but my heart sank. It’s a difficult thing to realize that a hot meal and a few donated towels might be the brightest moment in someone’s day.
Walking together, I asked José how he had lost his home. His answer was painfully ordinary: the loss of family, the loss of a job, and illness.
There was nothing extraordinary about his story. Many of us have buried loved ones, lost employment, or faced serious health challenges. What often separates those who recover from life’s storms from those who end up homeless is not determination or character. It’s the presence of a safety net—a family member, a church community, a friend, some savings, health insurance, or someone willing to help carry the burden. When those supports are missing, familiar hardships can become overwhelming.
This is why FOCUS exists. Along with the food, clothing, showers, and other practical assistance provided at our centers around the country, we seek to become part of that safety net.
More importantly, we hope to bear witness to a deeper truth: no one is invisible to God, and no one should be invisible to us.
There is joy in loving our neighbors, and there should be. But if our service never unsettles us, if it never breaks our hearts or expands our compassion, then perhaps we have stopped too soon. Christ does not simply call us to perform acts of mercy. He calls us to enter into the suffering of others, to bear one another’s burdens, and to take up our cross in love.
I’ll remember José’s smile for a long time. It fills me with gratitude that, for one afternoon, we were able to ease a small part of his burden. But it also leaves me with a holy discomfort—a reminder that there is always more to be done, more people to love, and more faithfully we can answer Christ’s call.
As St. Maria of Paris, one of FOCUS North America’s patron saints reminds us, “Our neighbor’s cross is the sword that pierces our soul… to co-participate, co-feel, co-suffer. This is love.”
Thanks to your prayers and support, FOCUS is helping make Christ’s love visible.
Linda Kolton
Center Director, FOCUS Bridgeport
Learn more about FOCUS Bridgeport here!
