Two weeks ago I got to hang out with a man on the steps of an inner city church for a couple of hours. He ended up sleeping on those steps that night. It was one of those experiences where all of my theoretical theology faded away into the obscure uselessness. All I could do was just sit, listen and try to empathise with the pain he was describing. The act was simple and hard. Nothing in my life had prepared me to listen in a way that could show I had any idea what he might be going through. Even his happiest story was soaked in sadness. But, I listened, I laughed, I swore and I spent long stretches in silence. I felt like the worst person for the task. He smiled and genuinely thanked me. Sometimes the worst person for the task doing the best they can is the best recipe for love.