The Paradox of Poverty

FOR almost a decade, the Jesus Centre has delivered services and support for thousands of homeless and vulnerably housed people in London. Typically, we encounter those who find themselves trapped in an all too familiar paradox: alone in one of the busiest cities in the world and poor in one of the wealthiest places on earth.

On an average day, we will work with up to 50 people who sleep out on the streets of Westminster. Some are seeking asylum from war-torn countries, others refuge from broken homes. Some have banked on jobs that never materialised and others have sold their dreams to feed an addiction they could not defeat. Everyone is trying to survive. 

At first glance, most of what we do looks and feels unspectacular. There are hungry stomachs to feed, dirty socks to wash and housing applications to complete. Over time, however, it becomes apparent that this is a place where heaven touches earth.

In the midst of the chaos and complex need, there is an atmosphere of genuine friendship. Often something like joy interrupts the routine of rapid response. Laughter and gratitude envelope conversations and at the end of the day, people remember your name.

Volunteers from around the world bring expertise and unprofessional charm to the soup kitchens. Architects build relationships with alcoholics and retired school teachers learn how to play chess with ex-offenders.

When people lose the security of four walls and a roof over their head they tend to create community wherever they can. This is the paradox of poverty - somehow strength is always perfected in weakness. I have been astonished by the resourcefulness and selfless care of our clients who look out for one another daily and seek to cover rather than exploit each other’s weakness. The paradox of poverty is a prophetic reminder that we badly need each other. Our modern world that boasts in self-sufficiency and individual progress has much to learn from the poor.