The weather outside was frightful last November! Inside, at The Salvation Army’s Lakeshore Community Church in Toronto, where my husband, Bill, was the pastor at that time, we were in the middle of Christmas toy registration as well as a very busy food bank day when Joseph came to the front entrance of our church.

He was hunched over, shivering from the freezing weather, dripping wet and cold. Joseph’s feet were frozen, his clothes soaked to the skin. His running shoes were drenched and sopping with water, and his jeans were wet to the knees. 

Joseph could hardly speak. He was wearing only a T-shirt, a lightweight jacket and a safety vest. He declared he had not eaten for a few days. He had no food for today and refused anything I would give him in a can because he didn’t own a can opener.

“But Your Feet Are Wet!”

Joseph lives in a tent near the train tracks. He has been homeless for a few months. He had lost his job and his family during the pandemic and now had absolutely nothing.

I gave him food and a coat donated by a kindly young woman that Joseph could use as a buffer between his own jacket and the safety vest. We also gave him a sleeping bag, two bags of food—and a can opener—along with a voucher to purchase warm clothes from the Salvation Army thrift store. He was ecstatic when we brought out mittens, a hat and a blanket. 

From the church foyer, my husband, Bill, was watching the interaction between Joseph and me. 

As Joseph was preparing to leave the building in his dry clothing and treasure trove of food, I could see the wheels turning in Bill’s head as he declared, “But your feet are wet!” Knowing my husband as I do, I knew what was going to happen next.

Holy Ground

Without any hesitation, Bill stooped low, unzipped his perfectly designed, Salvation Army regulation winter boots, removed the dry, warm, footwear and handed them to Joseph, saying, “Here! They’re yours!”

At first, Joseph didn’t want to take Bill’s boots. But my husband was insistent.

“Please take these boots! Your feet need to be dry and warm.”

A grateful Joseph finally relented.

As much as I hate shopping for boots and shoes for my husband, it was going to be OK this time. This was, after all, a sacred space where God came and used His people. One declaring need. The other responding to the need. 

And I stood still, overwhelmed by both the need and the generosity of one person to another, knowing this was a God moment.

On this miserable, wet and blustery day, I was brought once again to the truth of the Bible, which declares, “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me” (Matthew 25:40).

Who knew the front entrance of the church could be holy ground?

Major Shirley King is the pastor at The Salvation Army’s Acton Community Church in Ontario.

Photo: angel011/stock.Adobe.com

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