When one is recovering from a virus, the world keeps spinning. Waiting to get better, I decided to write a story about something that may or may not have happened within the last week. We all need to be ready for the unexpected. What would you do if you faced this situation?
In a quiet corner of town, a simple act of compassion turned an empty building into something sacred. A local church, faced with the needs of a homeless man in their community, made the choice to open the doors of a vacant house they owned and allow him to stay for a short time. It wasn’t a grand gesture with press releases or social media fanfare. It was quiet, deliberate, and deeply human.
The little house had been empty for months. Once full of laughter and the everyday sounds of life, it sat shrouded in silence. Church members had been debating how best to use it. While many good ideas swirled through leadership meetings, the question remained. Should it be used for immediate income or for someone in need?
With no working bathroom, before it could be used for anything, it needed fixing. After installing a brand new tub/shower combination, that problem was fixed.
Within days of completion, a believer named James came along. Life had thrown him more than his fair share of storms, and slowly, everything that once made him feel secure unraveled. What he needed wasn’t just a meal or kind words. He needed a door that locked, a roof that held, and a place to breathe.
What could a tiny country church do to help?
So, the church let him in.
This decision was not without risks or questions. How long would he stay? Would it be safe? Was this fair to others in need? But rather than letting uncertainty paralyze them, the members leaned into grace. They drafted a basic agreement for clarity with J and coordinated volunteers to help furnish the space with donated items.
What happened next wasn’t dramatic, but profound. James rested. A few weeks in a stable place gave him time to think again about the future. Eventually, he’d be able to move on to more permanent housing.
And so, you decide. Did this happen or is it the product of way too much Mucinex?
In today’s world, where the scale of homelessness can feel overwhelming, it’s easy to believe that only large systems can bring solutions. But sometimes the most powerful thing is a single unlocked door. Churches, nonprofits, and communities across the country sit on vacant properties while people sleep under bridges. What if this story wasn’t the exception, but the beginning of a new model of radical hospitality?
This story isn’t about a church saving a man. It’s about the sacred intersection of resources and need. It’s about what happens when we look at what we have—not as ours to protect, but as tools to serve.
What unused space in our lives—physical or emotional—could become shelter for someone in need? The next time someone comes to your door, what would you do?
More tomorrow.