How Many People Do We Miss Because We Never Look Up?
Over the last two weeks, I’ve written about seeing people differently and creating spaces where they feel genuinely welcomed. Last week, I argued that our processes should exist to serve people, not the other way around.
But even the best process cannot help someone who never finds their way through our doors. Welcoming people when they come to us matters. We must also practice looking up, stepping outside, and moving toward those who may never ask for help.
I remember being swept through a crowded subway station by hundreds of commuters rushing toward the platform. As I moved with the current, I noticed a young woman sitting on the ground with a cardboard sign and a Starbucks cup containing a few coins and dollar bills.
By the time I reached the platform, she was behind me. We were packed together like sardines, and there was no way to get back to her. When the train arrived, it was already so crowded that only a handful of people could board. The weather was nice, and I would probably miss my connection anyway, so I decided to walk.
As I made my way back through the crowd, I realized I had another opportunity to speak with the woman everyone else was passing. I asked if I could sit beside her. She graciously agreed.
She was in her mid-twenties and struggling with sobriety. More than anything, she wanted to reconnect with her daughter, who was living with a relative. I listened, offered encouragement, and shared my contact information and several rehabilitation options. Before leaving, I asked if I could pray with her.
I didn’t solve her problems that afternoon, but I watched hope return to her face. None of it would have happened if I hadn’t looked up—and taken a second shot.
Wayne Gretzky famously said, “You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.” I wonder how many opportunities to connect with another person we miss because we are distracted by our phones, calendars, and AirPods.
Brett Hartford, a former City Relief colleague who now leads the Homeless Resource Center in Lawrence, Kansas, calls the alternative “heads-up commuting”: the discipline of paying attention to the people around us wherever we are going.
That discipline matters because people in crisis are often expected to diagnose and solve their own problems precisely when they have the least capacity to do so.
We ask, “How can I help?” or “What do you need?” Sometimes the answer is simply, “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking for help.”
Then, when someone cannot navigate a complicated system or articulate the perfect next step, we label them “service resistant.” Perhaps the problem isn’t that people refuse to enter our systems. Perhaps our systems—and our lives—were never designed to go looking for them.
For Christians, Luke 15 offers a better model. A shepherd searches for a missing sheep. A woman lights a lamp and sweeps until she finds a valuable coin. A father sees his wayward son while he is still far away and runs toward him.
The shepherd searches. The woman searches. The father watches, runs, embraces, and restores. Jesus is revealing the heart of a God who moves toward people.
At City Relief, that conviction is why we bring mobile outreaches into parks and neighborhoods across New York City and New Jersey. But “heads-up commuting” is not only for outreach workers. It is a discipline available to all of us.
Who might we notice if we put down our phones, removed our AirPods, and left enough room in our calendars to be interrupted?
We do not need to diagnose every problem or have all the answers. We can begin by looking up, asking a question, and becoming someone others feel safe telling when they need help.
Hospitality welcomes people who come through our doors. Compassion goes looking for those who never will.
With Gratitude,
Josiah Haken
City Relief, CEO
