Christ is Present - In Humble, Vulnerable Love

People were avoiding him. They crossed the street, turned away, kept their distance. The 
man looked unclean—his clothes were dirty, his beard unkempt, his hair tangled. And like 
everyone else, Campolo saw him and felt that instinctive hesitation. 
But then something happened. The man turned, looked directly at Tony, and their eyes 
locked. And immediately, the man made a beeline toward him. Campolo thought to 
himself, “Here we go, this is going to cost me at least five dollars.”  
Sure enough, the man came right up to him, held out his cup, and said, “Hey mister, 
would you like a sip of my coffee?” The last thing Tony wanted was to drink from that 
cup. He could see the dirt on the rim, the grime, the smudges. But being a good Christian 
and compassionate bloke, he said, “Sure.” He turned the cup slightly to the cleanest spot 
he could find, pretended to take a larger sip than he actually did, and handed it back. Then 
he said, “You’re being very generous. What’s gotten into you today?” 
The man replied, “Well, I figure when you’ve got something really good, you should 
share it. And today, the coffee is really good.” Campolo, still thinking this encounter would 
end with a request for money, said, “Well, you’ve been generous with me. Maybe there’s 
something I can do for you.” And just as he began to reach for his wallet, the man said, 
“Yeah—you can give me a hug.” 
It was not what Tony Campolo was not expecting. He would have happily given him 
five dollars instead. But reluctantly, he stepped forward, trying to give a quick, careful 
embrace without too much contact. But as he did, the man wrapped his arms around him 
tightly and pulled him in. And then he rested his head on Campolo’s shoulder and held on. 
And he didn’t let go! 
Campolo stood there, feeling completely uncomfortable. People were staring. Some 
were laughing, others were clearly disapproving. He felt embarrassed and wished the 
ground would open up and swallow him. But still, the man held on and on.  
And then, in that moment, words began to echo in Campolo’s mind – words he had 
read, words he had preached, words from Jesus: “When I was hungry, you gave me 
something to eat. When I was thirsty, you gave me something to drink… When I was a 
stranger, you welcomed me… Whatever you do for the least of these, you do for me.” And 
suddenly, everything changed. He realised that in this moment, in the arms of this 
homeless man, he was encountering Christ. The face in front of him – the one others 
avoided, the one people rejected—that was the face of Christ. And more than that, Christ 
was not only in the man. Christ was blessing him through that man. While others ignored 
him, dismissed him, refused even the offer of his coffee, Campolo had accepted. And in 
doing so, he had received something sacred. That moment transformed him. 
The second story is about a man named Darryl, who worked running a homeless men’s 
hostel. He was a man of deep faith and deep compassion. He cared for the men who came 
through his doors. He listened to their stories, treated them with dignity, and sought to 
support them wherever he could. But at some point, Darryl felt that simply managing the 
hostel wasn’t enough. He wanted to understand more deeply what these men experienced. 
So, he decided to do something extraordinary. 
He went away for a training course, and at the end of it, instead of returning to his normal 
life, he gave away his belongings—keeping only the clothes he was wearing, a small 
amount of cash, and some basic identification. And then, for a week, he lived as a homeless 
man. He didn’t know where he would sleep. He didn’t know how he would eat. He walked 
the streets with uncertainty, fear, and vulnerability. Eventually, he found a shelter that took 
him in for a few nights. They gave him breakfast and dinner—but no lunch. So, he had to 
find food elsewhere, relying on soup kitchens and charity. 
During that week, he experienced something profound. He saw firsthand the difference 
that people’s attitudes made. Some treated him with respect. They listened, they cared, 
they acknowledged his humanity. And those interactions lifted him up – they gave him 
dignity. But others treated him very differently. They were dismissive, patronising, or cold. 
They saw him as just another case, another problem. And those moments made him feel 
small, invisible, and unworthy. He felt vulnerable. He felt powerless. He experienced what 
it meant to have no control, to depend entirely on others. And when that week was over, 
he returned to his role – but he was not the same. It changed how he led the hostel. It 
changed how he treated people. It deepened his compassion and sharpened his awareness 
of the importance of dignity. 
These stories help us understand what Jesus is teaching in Matthew’s Story of Jesus 
(Matthew 10: 40-42 – and the preceding verses), when he sends the disciples out into the 
world. He tells them to go and bring healing. To care for the sick. To reach out to the 
marginalised. To bring peace and blessing into people’s lives. But he also tells them that 
not everyone will welcome you. Some will reject you. Some will turn away. And yet, the 
call remains – to go anyway. To offer love. To extend grace. Because this is the heart of 
the gospel. It is a call to recognise that every person carries the image of God. It is a call 
to build communities where people are not judged, not excluded, not diminished—but 
welcomed, embraced, and valued. It is a call to humility.  
Because the truth is, every one of us will have moments in life where we are vulnerable. 
Where we need help. Where we feel overwhelmed. Where we are not in control. And in 
those moments, we are not so different from the people we are called to serve. This is why 
compassion matters so deeply. Not as an abstract idea, but as something lived out in real 
relationships. It’s not just about what we give—it’s about how we give it. It’s about 
whether we see the person in front of us. Whether we treat them with dignity. Whether we 
are willing to receive as well as give. Because sometimes, the greatest transformation 
happens not when we help someone – but when we allow ourselves to be touched, to be 
changed, to be human alongside them. This is the invitation of Jesus: To be people of love.