It was early August and during a moment of good weather, we sat in the churchyard to talk. I had been meeting with Dave for a few weeks. We had made contact through my incumbent who, knowing of my previous work for various homelessness charities, put us in touch with one another. Conversations usually covered what might be expected – his upcoming eviction date, an absence of future options, and things generally not going his way. 

 In amongst all of his frustration, Dave mentioned how it was similar to an experience he’d had whilst travelling the world. I paused and commented that I didn’t know about his travels. Suddenly, his eyes lit up and he continued. I heard how he’d learned the harmonica, met beautiful ladies, taken part in marathons, worked at airports, and despite it being new information to me, none of these amusing stories came as a surprise. Life surfaced where it hadn’t been before – he became animated as he explained it, excitedly going into all of the details.

Then it was his turn to pause. He exhaled deeply and, turning to me, said something that clung to my thoughts for days:“People only ever want to talk to me about my problems.”

It struck me, because it acted as an important reminder of the role that passions and interests play in forming our identities. We live in a time when a Twitter bio should be able to provide all that we want another person to know about us. It might include statements of our relationships with others, profession, passions in food and drink, fluency in sarcasm and our musical preferences. Our passions and interests shape our sense of identity in these settings. They invite others to converse with us on the basis of these shared interests and passions, or act as a reminder to stay away. Our interests in some ways form our identity.

Yet, when it comes to homelessness, a label can be attached to an individual in such a manner that makes the entirety of that person’s existence based on one thing– homelessness. No longer even a person that is facing homelessness, but simply that they are homeless. Their history, their passions,their interests which constitute a huge part of their personhood are cast aside. All of this is reflected in our discourse with them, in the questions that we ask and the priorities that we so often set for them because of these exchanges. Imagine living in a world where people only wish to talk to you about how things are going wrong in your life. Or imagine people brushing aside any other conversation in favour of how the bad habits of yours are always repeated and lead to the same outcomes. They are then spoken to as a problem to be solved, rather than an individual with diverse interests and passions, and ultimately an image bearer of the creative God. No wonder Dave was bursting as he shared his interests with me – they’d been brushed aside for too long, kept to himself and not shared.

Theologian Sam Wells speaks of this in his book The Nazareth Manifesto in a very accessible manner. In the book, he depicts Jesus as God being-with us, and therefore proposes to us a fascinating parallel role of being-with those that are in situations similar to Dave. He helpfully explains that “being-with means [to] regard the other, not as a problem to be solved, but as a mystery to be entered.” It involves entering that relationship with the other person as they stand before us - not as we would like them to be, but as they are. In this respect, he writes, “it is a genuine encounter: the two parties are equally involved, and the engagement only proceeds if they both continue to be so.” This relationship can be a bit of a mystery to us. As much as we can talk with someone or observe them, or as far as they can explain to us their thoughts and intentions, they remain embedded in a complex web of relationships and circumstances that is essential to that mystery. For them to share the outworkings of this mystery, for them to spend time with us, no matter how infuriating, is a gift. This relationship is not something to be exploited. It is not something for churches to use as an advert for their aptitude in social transformation, or for them to cause those facing homelessness to become assimilated with middle class values. Instead, the gift that is offered is one to be cherished and to be paid attention to.

It’s important to state that this is a very difficult balance to hold. To be a friend to Dave is at times very difficult, especially when I listen to his decision making process and often consider the choices he makes to be damaging or harmful. At the time of writing, Dave had made what I considered to be a poor decision. It’s quite frustrating to have conversations that concern things going wrong in his life and for there to be “no solution,” but when solutions are presented to him, he turns away from them. In those moments I have to remind myself with which lens I am perceiving Dave. Am I seeing him as being a person that needs to be fixed in a particular way? As Sam Wells phrases it, “Being with means attending to the mystery that lies beneath even the most clumsy, loud, and infuriating relationship. It does not mean soothing the unsoothable.” It’s also worth reflecting on my own role – who am I to him in that moment? What is it that God is calling me to be to him? Dave does not want another social worker, but has expressed his desire for a friend. 

We often approach these relationships assuming that the other person is the mystery, whilst we are entirely transparent and knowable. However, there is a reciprocal nature to the mystery of any relationship. We appear as mysterious to the other person as they appear to us. Whilst I find Dave mysterious, and at times baffling, there are moments where he asks me questions about my own life that reveal what a mystery I must appear to be to him. Sometimes these are simple and I cannot believe that he cannot grasp my perspective, other times he requires me to stop and pause for a bit longer – as I realise that, I too, can present as a mystery to others.

What was a simple conversation with Dave reminded me of the interconnectedness of identity and interests. Being overly fixated on a person’s circumstances and problems can mean that their identity is deprived of the things that are of importance to them, that give their lives significance. Maybe we have to learn that in addition to complex physical needs that must be addressed, people facing homelessness also have complex emotional needs that we can begin to address by being-with. Perhaps the challenge to the church is to step out and be with those facing homelessness, helping to support their emotional needs, and therefore investing in their sense of identity.