I was young and eager to help, and foolish.
I signed up to join a small team of Christian men to serve at a men’s shelter in the Bronx because I thought that I could offer something. It was the early 1990s and my twenty-something heart hungered to care for guys who had a difficult life, had struggled with addiction, or been to jail.
So when our group walked to the shelter from the subway, I anticipated conversations where I would offer my caring encouragement, teach these guys about the Bible, help them get on with their life. Wow, I was wrong.