Hands and Feet, and the Systems Behind Them

For the last two years, my husband, our three kids, and I have served as a once-a-month team lead at The Compassion Center, a local food pantry.
There is something about serving with your kids that makes you see things a little differently. You are not just volunteering for a few hours. You are showing your kids what it looks like to notice people, to serve people, and to give your time and energy when someone else has a need.
At Compassion, the work is pretty straightforward. There is food that needs to be sorted, bags that need to be packed, and people who need groceries. You can see the need right in front of you, and you can do something about it.
And I think that kind of work is incredibly important.
But my work at Kairos has also given me a different perspective on the same problems.
Instead of only asking, "How do we help the person who needs something today?" we also get to ask, "Why does this problem keep happening?"
We get to work with companies and organizations who are looking at the systems that contribute to these problems. We get to ask hard questions, look for places where things aren't working, and try to help change the systems themselves.
And I've realized that we need both.
We need people willing to stand at the food pantry and put groceries into someone's hands.
We need people willing to sit across the table from someone who is struggling and listen to their story.
AND we need people willing to step back and ask why that person needed the food pantry in the first place.
One doesn't replace the other.
There is dignity in meeting an immediate need. There is also hope in believing that we can work toward a future where fewer people have that need.
I want my kids to understand that loving our neighbors can look like many different things. Sometimes it looks like packing a bag of groceries. Sometimes it looks like giving someone your time. And sometimes it looks like working behind the scenes to change the things that are making life harder for people in the first place.
The call to love our neighbors sounds simple on paper. The complicated part is figuring out what that love looks like in practice.
Sometimes it looks like being the hands and feet.
Sometimes it looks like going after the system.
And sometimes, thankfully, we get to do both.
That gives me hope.
Because societal problems like hunger and homelessness can feel overwhelming. But I don't think hope means pretending those problems aren't there. Hope means believing that what we do matters and continuing to show up, serve the person in front of us, and work toward a world where there is less need to begin with.
Maybe that's what it means to love our neighbors well: meeting the need in front of us while working toward a day when that need isn't there anymore.
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