Lent 2026 · First Sunday of Lent: Church Is Wherever People Keep Showing Up

24 hours ago
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I’ve been thinking a lot about working at the Circle K.

People come in almost every day. Regulars. Familiar faces. For many folks, especially people who are unhoused, it becomes a kind of third place. Not home. Not work. Just somewhere warm. Somewhere predictable.

We’re a few blocks from The Landing, the Warming Center, The Salvation Army, and Mayo Park. A lot of folks who live in the park come through our doors. Many buy a soda because it’s cheap. Ninety-nine cents. A dollar and seven cents after tax.

And more times than I can count, someone comes up a few cents short. Because capitalism, we deny the sale. And because capitalism, we eventually dump the soda down the sink.

After a while, I started asking myself, "What is five cents when someone can have a moment of comfort?"

I know the argument. “That’s irresponsible. They shouldn’t be spending their last pennies on sugar.” Sure. I can think that way too. But judgy-mcjudgerson aside, what I realized is this: sometimes that soda is the one small reprieve someone has from living a very hard life.

Many of these folks are dealing with addiction, serious mental illness, criminal records, or all of the above. Some are deeply difficult people. Some are just regular humans trying to survive, in transition, waiting for the right resource, program, or opportunity to land.

And here’s the truth we don’t like to say out loud, most of us are far closer to losing our housing because of a job loss, accident, or medical event than we are to becoming billionaires and launching ourselves into space.

There’s a woman who comes in regularly. She carries her entire life in a suitcase, like many do. Every time she sees me she says, “Thanks for showing up. I like seeing regular faces. I like the stability. And just so you know, if I ever saw you broken down on the side of the road, I’d stop to help you.”

I told her, “I appreciate that. It’s nice when someone stops. Not if I’m broken down.” I chuckled with her about it.

I don’t know her backstory. But I know mine. I’ve had unstable housing. I’ve needed help. If I didn’t have friends, family, and resources at certain points in my life, things could have gone very differently.

I’m grateful for my life. I tell people all the time, “I’m thriving compared to a lot of folks.” And because people showed up for me when I needed just a little support, I try to do the same.

So I started a soda pop fund.

Nothing formal. Just my pocket change in a cup in my locker. When someone comes up short, I say, “It’s good. I got you. Bring it back next time or pay it forward.”

And you know what? If I can make a person's day by fronting them 99 cents, why not!?

Kahlil Gibran wrote, “There are those who give little of the much which they have—and they give it for recognition… And there are those who have little and give it all. These are the believers in life, and their coffer is never empty.”

Today at work, it got a little chaotic. I was helping a customer. A regular was chatting with me. Someone else wanted my attention. And suddenly my friend Richie hands me his sweater and says, “Put this on so you’re not cold.”

My coworker Brendyn starts laughing and says, “Everyone is converging on Vangie.”

I looked up and said, “Not helpful, Brendyn," shaking my head. "Okay, everyone, back up. Let me finish what I’m doing and then I’ll give you the attention you want.”

Sundays are traditionally for church.

But for a lot of people, church looks like a Circle K counter. Familiar faces. Warmth. Someone remembering your name. Someone saying, “I got you.”

Lenten Reflection:

I keep thinking, if Jesus were alive today, he’d probably work at a place like a Circle K. Somewhere ordinary. Somewhere people come every day just to get through it. Somewhere you learn names, notice patterns, and understand that five cents can matter more than theology. He’d bend rules for compassion, not for profit. He’d know that people don’t need fixing before they deserve care. They’re just...thirsty.

Lent asks us to notice where God actually shows up.

Not in perfection.

Not in moral superiority.

But in ordinary acts of care.

Scripture doesn’t tell us to give only when it makes sense or when the recipient meets our standards. It tells us to give from the heart.

“Each of you should give what you have decided in your heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver.” - 2 Corinthians 9:7 (NIV)

Lent isn’t about grand gestures.

It’s about small faithfulness.

Five cents. A soda. A sweater. A familiar face.

Maybe the question isn’t, “Is this responsible?”

Maybe the question is, “Does this help someone get through the day?”

That’s how beloved communities are built.

One ordinary act at a time.

Take care of yourself. Take care of each other.