In 1988 when God began My Brothers Keeper in the basement of our Taunton home, I would head north to Brockton each morning in the “Green Monster,” a beat-up farm truck which broke down as often as it ran.

Now, twenty-four years later I was driving through Taunton again. This time I was in Saint Peter, a reliable, closed-bodied delivery truck, one of six vehicles in the My Brothers Keeper fleet. How good God has been!

In the early days, Terry and I did most of the deliveries together. This day, my crew was my son, Jim Jr. and grandsons Eben (age 14) and Nathan (age 9), just three of the more than 2,500 volunteers God sends our way each year.

It was a very special day. After careful consideration, the My Brother’s Keeper Board of Directors recently decided to extend our mission “to bring the love and hope of Jesus Christ” to Fall River, one of the most poverty-stricken cities in Massachusetts. Our crew was making the very first delivery of this new effort.

As we approached the city, we saw hills and church steeples. Jesus had arrived well ahead of us. The steeples were a tender reminder that the poor know God very well because they rely on Him constantly. We, in turn, are granted the privilege of being God’s answer to their prayers.

Nathan announced, “There it is Grandpa, number 784.” He had spotted the address on an enormous, dilapidated building that nearly took up the entire block. At first glance we thought it was abandoned, as much of it was boarded up. At the top of the stairs, though, we knocked on the door of apartment 6.

A woman’s voice timidly asked, “Who is it?” When we answered “My Brothers Keeper,” the lock unlatched and the door opened cautiously revealing a young woman with a little girl peeking shyly from behind her.

“We have a furniture and food delivery for Mary,” I said. The woman replied, “She’s at the hospital with her husband. I’m Sara, her son’s girlfriend. This is my daughter, Melody. We’ve been waiting for you.”

I explained to Sara what we were delivering: a kitchen table and chairs, a full bed, dresser, lamps, new pots and pans and a food order. She led us through a maze of dimly lit rooms to the kitchen where a young man was frying ground beef in a battered pot. Sara told us, “This is Marc, Mary’s son.” Marc, head down, obviously embarrassed, kept his eyes on his cooking and gave us a quiet hello.

As we brought the furniture into the apartment, Sara began to light up. She was amazed at the quality of the items. “This bed is brand new,” she said. “It’s still in the plastic.” I explained that our women volunteers had actually made the box-spring. Sara was incredulous. “No way!” she responded.

While unloading the furniture from Saint Peter, a young man approached us—Mary’s second son, Liam. He had just come from the hospital visiting his dad. The doctors had given his parents bad news that his father had stage four cancer. We told Liam about the My Brothers Keeper prayer room and promised to pray for his family.

With all the furniture in place, Sara, Melody, Marc and Liam stood admiring the beautiful, new kitchen table. As they thanked us, we handed them the crucifix with the same message we’ve been conveying for twenty-four years: “You’re very welcome, but the furniture isn’t from us. We’re just the delivery people. This is a gift for your home. This is the man who sent you the furniture.”

Hugs followed the tears as they walked us to the door. We had arrived as strangers. We left as friends.

After I dropped Jim Jr. and my grandsons at their home in Taunton, I continued north by myself to My Brothers Keeper. In awe and humility I thanked God for the privilege of serving Him and others, along with my family. I thanked Him for the thousands of people who choose the joy of service at My Brothers Keeper. I thanked Him for our young, vibrant leadership and staff who carry our mission forward. I thanked Him for our many supporters who value the integrity of our mission and the dignity we afford to those Christ entrusts to our care.

And I said: “Now Lord, your servant can rest in peace.” Well, maybe not yet…because many more people in Fall River and beyond still yearn for the love and hope of Christ.