What I Learned About God From Homelessness

I have sat down to write this post over and over, but have found myself unable to write it. Because writing it makes it real, the last time I will interact with some of the sweetest souls my heart has known, and a place so special that it brings me to tears to think about leaving it.

Second semester of my sophomore year, it rained. That rain was no accident and was a tool from the Lord to change my heart forever, and show me love, kindness, happiness, in a place where I never thought possible.

I had been part of a team of college students who regularly visited low income neighborhoods to mentor the kids living there. Most of these kids were in really tough situations, and were facing challenges that no child should ever have to face, much less on their own due to hardships with parents or guardians. I had abundant love for these kids, and typically went out into the neighborhoods two to three days a week. They were always in my heart, and nothing brought me more joy than being with these kids. But because of the rain that day, we couldn’t go out to the neighborhoods. I was a bit heartbroken, but still eager to go and serve people. One of my best friends in the mentorship program was an upperclassman named Bethany. She served in all sorts of capacities across the city of Anderson, and was always doing something to help others. She suggested that the team that typically serves in the neighborhood join her at the homeless ministry that took place Thursday nights. I walked in those doors and a different person.

We came in in the midst of some chaos, and were instructed to sit down and talk to people if we were feeling brave enough. So that’s exactly what I did, because if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s talk. So I sat down in front of a sweet woman named Darlene and asked her about her day. We had a great conversation about her time in Anderson and her grandkids, and her new job as a housekeeper at a local motel. And this happened over and over with everyone I spoke with, just story after story, each more heartbreaking than the last. I felt such a love in my heart for these people that I barely knew. And I knew that I had to keep coming back.

For the next six months, I found myself at the LOT at least once a week, which eventually turned into twice a week with some appearances at other homeless ministries, rehab centers, or the gardens that LOT managed. Over time, I grew closer and closer with the people we served, and they truly became my friends. I was able to rejoice with them in moments of victory and support them through hard times. They knew about my life too, and asked about school and my friends often. Some conversations were tough, and sometimes experience and hardship made guests unwanting of attention or conversation, but even when I was yelled at or ignored, I never felt discouraged. I was here to love these people, and if they weren’t ready to receive it from me, it just meant that the Lord was planning to use someone else.

One of the biggest things I learned from my time at LOT? People are just people. Growing up, I had a fear of the homeless. In middle school, I volunteered at a soup kitchen and left with an immense amount of heartbreak that I wasn’t sure how to handle. I remember telling my mom “Homeless ministry is so important, but I don’t think that’s where God is calling me. It’s too much for me to handle”. And here I am six years later, and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than at the LOT, talking with my homeless friends. Because at the end of the day, everyone whether homeless, millionaire, addict, dealer, student, CEO, or pastor, have all fallen short of the glory of God and are all in need of a savior. No matter what society would tell us about social class or morality, we are all bad and broken people who deserve eternal separation from the perfect and loving creator. But thankfully for all of us, the Lord is good, and loved us too much to leave us where we were. He pursued us, sent his son to die for us so we could have a new life and be with him forever. He came for you and me, but he also came for John, who has been arrested 12 times. He came for your brother, but he also came for James and Cooper, a set of brothers who live on the streets. He came for me, an average 18 year old girl, but he also came for Ash, an 18 year old who was kicked out of his home and stays at local shelter. The guests at LOT are just people who have had some hard circumstances, and many have walked through things that I can’t imagine. If a few things had been different, I could be right where they were sitting.

The bible calls us to love our neighbor, no matter who our neighbor is. For me, these are my neighbors. Because how can I expect to love and serve people all over the world if I can’t even love the people in my community? There are broken people who are in need of a savior no matter where you go, and you don’t have to travel across the world to find that.

One of the most impactful stories I have witnessed is of my friend Thomas. I met Thomas on my first day at LOT. He was 22, and had been on the streets since he was 13. He has faced an unimaginable amount of trauma and hardship in his life, and was full of anger and hurt. He was addicted to meth, alcohol, and any drug you could think of. I felt instantly connected to Thomas due to how close we were in age, and it broke my heart to see someone so young carry so much. As I got to know him, I wished for more for Thomas, as he was so young and had plenty of time to turn his life around. But I couldn’t decide that for him, he had to want it for himself.

After a few months of prayer and investment in Thomas, he made the choice to get into rehab and turn his life around. Within a week, he was checked into a faith-based rehab center for men that struggled with addiction.

On my last night in South Carolina, I got to see Thomas, a completely new man: well fed, showered, kind, cared for- get baptized, and later share his story of redemption to a room full of men struggling with addiction. He’s now off the streets, four months sober, has a great relationship with the Lord, has a redeemed relationship with his father and is working with a florist. There’s something about seeing a man who was so broken, so full of hurt and anger, who swore up and down that he would be on the streets until he died, declaring that Jesus Christ is his Lord and Savior, and that he has found a purpose and future that does something to you. That night we were able to celebrate three men’s graduations from the program (one of them being Thomas). We were even able to witness an addict come to know Jesus and be baptized on the spot due to the testimony of the men graduating. As I stood there, weeping with joy over the goodness of the Lord, all I could think was “This is it. This is why we do all that we do. It’s for moments like this.” Part of ministry is knowing that we may never get to witness these moments. We may never see the moment God turns someone’s heart or redeems a relationship. But nevertheless, we are still called to love people around us with all that we have. Because those moments never get old. Giving someone the chance to have a new life and a relationship with the creator of the universe is the greatest gift you can give them. There are so many “Thomases” out there. So many people have yet to witness the goodness of the Lord. But if he did it for me, he can do it for you. If he did it for Thomas, he can do it for your dad.

As I travel this fall and meet all sorts of people and share the gospel, I may never get to see the moment when God changes their heart. I may never see their baptisms or get to rejoice with them in their new found hope. But I will get to see them in heaven, where I can give them a bear hug and jump up and down as we celebrate the goodness of the Lord and his redeeming love.


And the hope for that kind of future is worth everything.