We Go With Them
Incarnational Missions Among the Homeless
In nearly thirty years of ministry, I have worn different hats. For sixteen years, I served in Youth and Family Ministry. For another ten years, I served as a Preaching Minister. Along the way, God began stirring something new in my heart. What started as a burden became a calling, and that calling eventually grew into a ministry among those living on the margins of society
For the last eight years, I have been involved in homeless ministry, five of those years overlapping with my preaching ministry. Looking back now, I can see that God was preparing me for something I never expected.
The journey began with my best friend, Jason Hale, while we were living in Rockdale, Texas. What started there eventually traveled about three hours east when my family and I relocated to Lufkin, Texas. When we arrived in Deep East Texas, the calling did not stay behind. Instead, it came with us, and out of that calling, Lufkin Street Ministries 2540 was born.
One of the most common questions we receive is, “Where does the 2540 come from? The answer is found in the words of Jesus, “And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me’” (Matt 25:40 ESV). That verse serves as both our foundation and our reminder. Every person we encounter carries inherent dignity because they bear the image of God. Every act of compassion is ultimately an act of service to Christ Himself.
When I first arrived in Lufkin, I knew very little about the landscape of homelessness in the community. Before launching any programs or making assumptions, I spent time reaching out to organizations and ministries already serving the marginalized. I asked each one the same question: “What is it that your organization does not do?” The answer was surprisingly consistent. No one was regularly and intentionally going into the homeless encampments. That answer shaped everything that followed.
If no one was consistently going into the woods, then that was where we needed to start. Those early trips into the encampments introduced us to people whose names and stories remain with us today. Some of those individuals are still part of our lives and ministry. Others are not. Some have passed away. Some simply disappeared. To this day, we still do not know where some of them ended up.
Among the first people we met were Jack and Natalie. Through them, we met others. More importantly, through those relationships, we began to earn something that cannot be demanded or rushed—trust.
Trust opens doors that resources alone never can.
It was through Jack that I would later experience one of the most meaningful and heartbreaking friendships of this ministry. In the spring of 2025, my phone rang. The voice on the other end sounded familiar, though older. As we talked, I learned I was speaking with Jack’s father. To avoid confusion, we simply called him “Big Jack.” He had recently been diagnosed with cancer and needed transportation to his medical appointments. I told him I would gladly take him.
At his first appointment, I accompanied him into the examination room. I wanted to meet the doctor and better understand his situation. Before long, it was determined that I would become his emergency contact. After the appointment, we went to complete lab work. While waiting together in the lobby, Big Jack asked me a question that has stayed with me ever since. “Why are you here?”
At first, I wasn’t sure what he meant. “What do you mean?” I asked. He looked at me and clarified. “Why are you here with me? Why are you sitting here waiting with me? You could have just dropped me off and left.”
It was a simple question with a simple answer. “You needed someone to go with you, not someone to drop you off. You shouldn’t have to go through this alone.” That was it. No grand theological explanation, nor any ministry strategy—just presence.
The goal is to ensure that when someone needs help, there is someone to go with them. Because ministry was never meant to be a solo effort. And neither was life.
Over the following months, appointments were made and missed. There were difficult conversations and moments of uncertainty. Somewhere in the middle of all of it, a friendship formed. But not every story ends the way we hope.
About six months after beginning treatment, Big Jack passed away. I learned of his death during one of our monthly 2540 Fellowship in the Park gatherings.
On the second Saturday of each month, we gather in the park to share a meal, pray together, and provide clothing, hygiene supplies, seasonal items, and most importantly, build community with those who are often forgotten. At one of those gatherings, I ran into Little Jack. That is when he told me the news about Big Jack.
In the days that followed, I helped Little Jack navigate the difficult process of figuring out what had happened and locating his father’s remains. It was a painful experience. But it also served as a reminder of something that has become central to our ministry philosophy: We go with people. We do not simply provide services to people, but instead, we go with them.
That distinction matters. Many systems are designed to direct people somewhere. Fill out this form, call this number, go to this office, or wait for this appointment. While such directions are often necessary, people facing homelessness, poverty, illness, addiction, trauma, or crisis frequently need more than directions. They need someone willing to walk alongside them, someone willing to sit in the waiting room or to make the phone call. They need someone willing to listen, to show up and stay. That is what we mean when we say we go with those we walk alongside, because they should not have to go through life alone.
As I write this article, I am preparing for our next Fellowship in the Park gathering. There are supplies to organize, volunteers to coordinate, conversations to have, and needs to meet. But I also find myself reflecting on a larger question. What comes next?
Over the last two years, we have been engaged in ongoing conversations with Mission Alive. During that time, I became an Innovative Faith Community leader. Those conversations have helped sharpen our vision and challenge us to think beyond immediate needs toward long-term transformation.
Our ministry has always been about more than providing temporary relief. Relief, food, clothing, hygiene, etc., they all matter. But we believe lasting transformation happens when people gain stability, community, and hope. That conviction has shaped the next phase of our mission.
Our efforts center around helping at least one individual or family move into stable housing. Once that happens, we focus on helping the next person. Then the next, and then the next. The goal is not to build a large program for the sake of having a large program. The goal is to transform one life at a time. One family. One story. One relationship. One home.
I was once asked why we do what we do. My answer came quickly. “Because somebody needed to do it, and God called me to it.”
That calling has taken us into some beautiful moments. It has also taken us into some incredibly difficult ones. We have stood beside people during grief. We have helped navigate medical crises. We have celebrated victories. We have experienced setbacks. We have had hard conversations. And there have been moments when we simply could not do what needed to be done. Those moments are the hardest for me.
Anyone involved in ministry knows the feeling. You see the need, understand the problem, and desperately want to help. Yet the resources, systems, or opportunities simply are not there. Those moments remind us that no single ministry can do everything. That realization has pushed us to continue building partnerships throughout our community. We are growing a network of organizations, churches, agencies, and individuals who can help us serve more effectively. The goal is not for us to become everything people need. The goal is to ensure that when someone needs help, there is someone to go with them. Because ministry was never meant to be a solo effort. And neither was life.
At the heart of Lufkin Street Ministries 2540 is a simple conviction: every person deserves dignity, community, and someone willing to walk beside them. That is what Matthew 25:40 means to us. That is why we enter the woods, waiting rooms and parks. That is why we build partnerships and keep showing up. Because no one should have to walk through life’s hardest moments alone. And whenever we choose to go with one of the least of these, we discover that Christ has already gone there before us.
Jason M. Hollinger and his wife, Sarah Hollinger, were married on June 2, 2001. They have four children and one son-in-law. Their children are Emmaline Harvard (married to Josiah Havard), Aaron Hollinger, Bryan Hollinger, and Charlotte Hollinger. Jason is a graduate of Sunset International Bible Institute, and his wife is a Social Worker with Texas Family Care Network. Jason serves as a Hospice Chaplain for Gentiva Hospice in addition to running Lufkin Street Ministries 2540.