The Comfort We Carry

The Comfort We Carry, the Value We See

“[God] comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.”
2 Corinthians 1:4 (NIV)

 

At The Sanctuary Trust, we work with people who know what it means to be pushed aside; often by society, sometimes by systems, and too often by life itself. Some of them now sit across from others in crisis, not as professionals with perfect answers, but as honest staff members who have been there and found their way back.

 

We talk a lot about our lived experience workforce, and you may already know that approximately 70% of our staff have personal experience of homelessness, addiction, or the many struggles that can lead someone into crisis. Many of them have lived through the pain of adverse life experiences.

 

There’s a kind of comfort that can only come from someone who’s been through it themselves.

 

In his second letter to the Corinthians, Paul writes to encourage a church experiencing hardship, from a place of deep suffering and shared struggle. His words in 2 Corinthians 1:4 remind us that the comfort God offers us is never meant to stop with us—it’s meant to flow through us. It reflects the very heart of God, who meets us in our suffering not only to lift us up, but so we can reach out to others in their time of need. Whether Christian or not, many of our team carry this ministry of presence, offering empathy that is rooted in personal struggle and genuine hope. To understand the depth of this calling, we can turn to another powerful image in Scripture: the cornerstone.

 

In ancient building practices, the cornerstone was the first stone laid, setting the angle and alignment for every other part of the structure. It had to be strong, dependable, perfectly positioned—because everything else would rest on it. And yet, Scripture tells us:

 

“The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.”
Psalm 118:22 (NIV)

 

How many times do people who’ve been through trauma, addiction, or homelessness feel rejected—by systems, by others, even by themselves?  And yet, the cornerstone metaphor is about choosing to place our trust, as an organisation, in the people the world might once have dismissed. We see this every day in our staff. Their stories, once marked by struggle, are now sources of strength for others still finding their way.

 

For our Christian readers, Psalm 118:22 is a clear picture of redemption. For those of other faiths or none, it still resonates; that nothing we go through is wasted when it can be used to help someone else.

 

Across all our projects, including aptly named Sanctuary Trust: Cornerstone, our hostels, outreach work, and recovery services, this truth holds steady: comfort, once received, can become comfort shared. And through that, something lasting is built.

 

When we build with what others might dismiss, we make space for something sacred. We watch as people begin to believe again—in themselves, in others, sometimes even in God. And that, more than anything, is the kind of structure that lasts.

 

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