When Charles (not his real name) knocks on our church door during the week, he sometimes wants to play the piano, often requests food and bus fare or asks to use the phone, and always leaves with the benediction “Love you.”

On Sunday, when the door is unlocked and staffed with an attendant, Charles will get coffee and treats, chat cheerily with people and perhaps interrupt the steady bubbling of table conversation with some improvisation on the baby grand in our fellowship hall. His vulnerability and dignity are evident in his daily struggles with mental health issues and bureaucratic public assistance.