by Rev. Brenda Booth
One of our volunteers recently shared an observation that has stayed with me.
“They walk into the shower looking defeated. But when they come out…they’re a different person.”
It wasn’t just that they were physically clean.
Their shoulders were higher.
Their head was lifted.
Their eyes met ours again.
Something had changed.
Water has always carried deep meaning in Scripture. From the waters of creation, to the story of Noah, to the crossing of the Red Sea, to Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan, water is more than something that cleans our bodies. It reminds us that God is always making things new.
Every Wednesday, our shower ministry becomes a small glimpse of that promise.
The dirt that washes down the drain is real enough—days or weeks of living outside, of sweat, dust, and grime. But there is another kind of dirt our unhoused neighbors carry that water cannot literally remove.
They carry the weight of being ignored.
They carry the wounds of being judged before they are known.
They carry the exhaustion of being seen as a problem instead of a person.
In many ways, that grime belongs not to them but to all of us. It is the residue of a society that too often looks away. It is the collective sin of indifference, fear, and systems that leave people without shelter while convincing us that someone else’s suffering is not our concern.
When a guest steps into one of our showers, they are washing away more than dirt. They are being reminded—if only for a moment—that they are worthy of care. That someone prepared clean towels for them. That someone made sure there would be hot water. That someone believes they deserve dignity.
And perhaps, in that moment, something else begins to wash away.
Not God’s grace—that has always been theirs.
But the shame the world has tried to place upon them.
The lies that tell them they have no value.
The burden of carrying society’s judgment on their shoulders.
As they emerge refreshed, we catch a glimpse of who they have been all along: beloved children of God.
Perhaps the greater question is not whether they have been washed clean.
Perhaps the question is whether we have.
Each guest invites us to confront the dirt that clings to our own hearts—the assumptions we make, the fears we harbor, the ways we benefit from systems that leave others behind. Every act of hospitality becomes an opportunity for God to wash away our indifference and replace it with compassion.
In the end, the shower ministry changes everyone who enters it.
Our guests leave with clean bodies and renewed spirits.
And if we are paying attention, we emerge with cleaner hearts.
Prayer
God of living water,
Thank you for reminding us that every person bears your image and deserves dignity, care, and love. As water refreshes weary bodies, refresh our spirits. Wash away the prejudice, indifference, and fear that keep us from seeing one another as beloved.
May every towel that is folded, every shower that is prepared, and every welcome that is offered become a witness to your grace. Help us to create spaces where shame is replaced by hope, isolation by belonging, and despair by new life.
Renew our neighbors. Renew your Church. Renew us all.
Amen.