On my last day at the Haven, after all of our cooking was completed and I finished my last day at the grill, both kitchen managers and a few of the guests at the Haven came to surprise me with a thank you card and a bag of their famous granola. It was totally unexpected and completely caught off guard, and all I could do was thank them for everything that they had taught me over the past two months. Caught up in my own self-reflections and forever grateful for the wisdom that my coworkers imparted on me, I never stopped to consider the impact that I could have on the Haven and those who worked there. To me, I was performing a small role that would benefit the organization that had so generously given me a space to see God in my work. What I failed to see was how my volunteering at the Haven impacted the kitchen managers and guests at the Haven. In the thank you card, one of the managers mentioned something that has stuck with me. He said that we are all “On Pilgrimage” –a spiritual journey–throughout life. This made me consider my time at the Haven as a whole.

The Haven is full of people On Pilgrimage. For the guests, it is the physical hardship and uncertainty that comes with the journey. They have experienced the hell of homelessness in which all choice has been taken from them. Their prospects are slim and most of the people that they encounter are cold and unresponsive. But during their time at the Haven, I believe that they see a glimpse into the Kingdom of God. A place where community is fostered, needs are met, and the opportunity of choice is restored. At the Haven, God “proclaims good news to the poor…binds up the brokenhearted, proclaim[s] freedom to the captives, and release from darkness for the prisoners” (Isaiah 61:1). While it’s impossible to create an organization that reflects God’s love perfectly, the intake shelter becomes an “aisle space” where people can interact with a God who restores their value, imbues them with hope, and fosters community.

Similarly, the volunteers and staff of the Haven are also On Pilgrimage. While their need may not be as physical and tangible, it is no less imperative to every individual. For those who volunteer, there is an inherent desire to help others without knowing the best way to accomplish those goals. They give their time to the Haven in the hopes that they can affirm humanity in a group that they see as less fortunate or forgotten by society. In many ways, this objective is accomplished, but something else happens. As the volunteers come to the intake shelter, they see not only the brokenness and the impermanence of the world around them, but they are overwhelmed by hope. They see people with nothing in this world build community and love unconditionally without regard for possessions. On their pilgrimage, they learn how God’s love permeates and shines in the darkness. There is a desire to learn and grow within that transcendent hope alongside people that, on the surface, have little. They see the light emanating out of the back door of hope in the darkness, only making the light more spectacular and brilliant.

Finally, I see that I too am On Pilgrimage. I see God’s love manifest through the community in the intake shelter. I am humbled by the faithfulness and perseverance of the volunteers and staff who give their time to create a space for hospitality to be possible. My view of God has become deeper, richer and fuller because of the commonplace experiences and everyday conversations with guests and volunteers alike. I feel I know God better after my time at the Haven. These months have reminded me of the incredible truth that “As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another” (Proverbs 27:17). Many people have sharpened me during my internship at the Haven. I have been surrounded by a cloud of people On Pilgrimage with me. We bounce ideas off of one another, see God’s love in different ways, and bring out new elements of our personalities. This cloud of witnesses has challenged my preconceived notions of hospitality, compassion, and aid to those experiencing homelessness. It is in this web of theological interaction that I was exposed and hidden, bold and reserved, pushed by other ideas and given the space to develop my own.

We are all On Pilgrimage. It will look differently from person to person and in a variety of situations. That being said, there is a unity in realizing that we are all walking together, learning as we go. In this pilgrimage, we know that “if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us” (1 John 4:17). Our pilgrimages are intertwined so that love may be made complete in us. They are intertwined so that we can experience true love, hope, friendship and community while also experiencing a “hospitality of our conjoined pilgrimages”. On our unique journeys, we join together in aisle spaces like the Haven to help others and see God at work. In doing so, we truly can establish true and genuine hospitality in a seemingly inhospitable world.

For updates about the PLT Summer Internship, click here. We also post updates online using #PLTinterns. To get these updates please like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter at @LivedTheology. To sign up for the Lived Theology monthly newsletter, click here.

Tiredness. That’s what most characterized this week as my internship came to a close. The routine of the 6:00 AM mornings have begun to take their toll even with my body adjusted to its new schedule. Coming into breakfast the past few mornings, I have felt disconnected and detached. It seems as if my work has become a product of muscle memory and familiarity rather than an active attempt to think theologically. To my tired brain, drawing connections would exert too much energy that I instead needed to function properly. Similarly, my interpersonal interactions with other volunteers and Haven staff have been concise and work-oriented. By this point, I know my goal and, at least for the first hour of my mornings, I am solely focused on that goal. As time passes and my body resumes its normal functioning, I can notice a change in my demeanor. I become more social and am able to engage more with my work beyond its physical performance. Strange as it may seem, I have noticed two distinct sides of my personality based upon this lack of sleep. I have become acutely aware of the biological necessity of sleep and how it can influence a personality.

I elaborate upon my own exhaustion not as a means of flaunting perceived dedication or drawing sympathy from the reader. Rather, I hope that it is seen as a vehicle for my theological reflection as well as a bridge by which I related to those experiencing homelessness at the Haven. Like most experiences at the Haven, one small change can lead down a new train of theological thought. For me, this tiredness connected to a newspaper clipping one of the kitchen supervisors carried with her whenever she cooked breakfast. It was a small advice column from years ago, and in it, the reader was asking about where she should volunteer. The ultimate purpose of volunteering for this person was to find recipients who would be appreciative of the volunteer’s sacrifice and donation of time and energy. The reporter’s reply was insightful, humble, and spoke right into my situation. She told the reader that volunteering so people will appreciate your efforts is a faulty justification for giving up your time. There are people in need who are incapable of showing the gratitude you crave. Introspectively, I began to ask if it was possible that I too could use my want for affirmation to deprive others of the aid they so desperately needed.

My tiredness deepened my reflection on this “thankfulness of the recipient” that was apparently a faulty prerequisite for helping the guests at the Haven. If I could feel the negative effects of a lack of sleep on my ability to connect with other humans, maybe the same goes for those experiencing homelessness. If it was possible for me to be tired with a roof over my head, a bed and the privacy that it entails, how much more difficult would it be for those residing in the hell of homelessness; a place full of sleepless nights, no privacy, and the constant threat of expulsion by police or robbery from others in the night? Could it be that those with no rest have little energy to connect with volunteers and other guests at the Haven? If my small lack of sleep could influence my personality and reorganize my priorities, it does not seem impossible that someone’s personality could be altered completely by experiencing homelessness. Perhaps the presence of an individual at the shelter showed an inherent desire for help that could be hidden under an exterior shell of sleeplessness and exposure to homeless hell.

Which brings us back to a theology of hospitality–in particular, hospitality towards those who have no home. If the constant mental, physical, emotional, and spiritual strain on a guest at the Haven leaves a person completely resigned and unable to connect, the volunteer or worker must have an appropriate response. This response should stem from a place of grace and empathy, understanding the difficulties of those who come to the Haven for breakfast. Our role then is not to burden those with this strain even further by having our own expectations and requirements before we offer our help. Similarly, one of the goals of any shelter should be one of rest and renewal. With humility as the cornerstone, the desire of the volunteer could be to give each guest the opportunity to feel like a human being again. If that means a conversation, or a “good morning,” then that is the appropriate action. If that means giving the guest a space to act coldly and “ungratefully” so that they may rest and regain their ability to feel like themselves, then we should have the humility to oblige. Henri Nouwen says it best: “hospitality is not a subtle invitation to adopt the lifestyle of the host, but the gift of a chance for the guest to find his own” (Reaching Out, 72). When we choose to look for appreciation to dictate our actions, we allow this place to “degenerate into mental battlefields” (Reaching Out, 69) instead of a bastion of rest and healing. A house of hospitality should work to expel these expectations and instead be content with the aid and opportunity for rest it gives to those who notice and those who do not. When a modest longing to provide individual respite is the centerpiece of a shelter’s volunteers and staff, the guests present can truly lay down their burdens and reclaim their humanity.

For updates about the PLT Summer Internship, click here. We also post updates online using #PLTinterns. To get these updates please like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter at @LivedTheology. To sign up for the Lived Theology monthly newsletter, click here.