When Love and Brokenness Collide

It’s eviction day, and the neighbours are celebrating. 

For months, a derelict house at the end of our block has been rented by a struggling group of people for whom one glance reveals lives characterized by hardship. Their arrival shepherded a spirit of underlying unease into our normally peaceful street, through loud nighttime arguing, ongoing substance abuse, and suspected petty criminality. When a sheriff arrived this morning to force their departure and board up the house, abundant relief flowed from home to home.

As the rain poured down, I saw one man packing his belongings into a shopping cart, tarping them tightly. Meanwhile, a woman huddled on stairs leading to a neighbourhood ravine, angrily ranting into a phone while holding tightly to the leash of a pit bull puppy. When a car arrived, she lifted one small pink suitcase into it, then unleashed the dog, muttering, “go find new friends.” After she was driven away, the dog stood alone, eyes confused.

what do you do when you’ve poured your heart and soul into loving someone—and it doesn’t seem to be enough?

While expressing joy over the eviction, a neighbour paused to convey concern that these people were now homeless. Yet, she noted, eviction was the only option. I didn’t disagree; given their ongoing behaviour, the landlord had no other choice. However, what my neighbour didn’t know was that this very morning, in another rental across the city, someone I dearly love was evicted under similar circumstances. Inside of me, a thousand tears weep.  Today, this person who has a huge piece of my heart is spiralling into near homelessness. I wonder if his neighbours are celebrating, too.

For years, I’ve thrown myself into helping this loved one. Yet, for all my efforts, it’s come to this. While my love for them will never stop, for both of our well-being, I must not rescue them again.  It makes me reflect: what do you do when you’ve poured your heart and soul into loving someone—and it doesn’t seem to be enough?

We’re called as Christians to lives of love of God and neighbour. If you’re reading this Do Justice article, you likely know that already—and have an interest in faith and social justice.  You may have long ago devoted yourself to living out Micah 6:8—To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God. 

I know a lot about barriers, living with mobility and communication disabilities myself and having fought for years for things others take for granted.

Sometimes, though, despite our best efforts and an ocean of love, the heartbreaking reality is it doesn’t seem like it was enough. Perhaps, you fought hard for justice and yet witnessed injustice prevail. Maybe you sacrificed to be a supportive ally, but racism, ableism, poverty, homophobia, or other terrible things seemed to win.  

Maybe, someone you dearly love fell ill, and you gave everything to obtain the best medical treatments, only to find yourself crying next to a hospice bed. Or you parented your child to the best of your ability, striving to introduce them to God—and yet, as adults, they won’t darken the door of a church. Perhaps, you loved your spouse well for decades—until they threw your love in your face and walked out the door.

With my loved one spiralling and no good end in sight, I find myself grappling with whether any of my heartfelt efforts and well invested love made a difference. And did they even want to be loved in the first place? Maybe the barriers were just too high.  I know a lot about barriers, living with mobility and communication disabilities myself and having fought for years for things others take for granted. I know what it is to be deeply in need, to experience how brutally painful the world can be.

When this person came into my life many years ago, my calling wasn’t to heal or save them

Some barriers seem insurmountable, and this is where God’s grace comes in, a grace that is enough, even in the hardest of times and highest of barriers. Through the situation with my loved one, God has taught me that love is about neither barriers nor potential results. When this person came into my life many years ago, my calling wasn’t to heal or save them; it was to show them love as Christ has loved me. I was to “love because he first loved us.” (1 John 4:19). 

Indeed, it’s love we are called to, not misconstruing our role to be healers or saviours; it is the Saviour who “heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” (Psalm 147:3).

Sometimes, as in my journey with my loved one, high and safe boundaries must be set; a rescue cannot happen. But even then, we are not released from our sacred Christian call to love God and neighbour. Instead, with the Spirit of Christ working through us, we continue in quietness, humility, and gentleness of spirit, loving those God brings across our paths.