Dana, 20, from Wisconsin, ended up on Chicago’s South Side after she stopped taking her prescribed medications. She began self-medicating with street drugs and eventually found shelter with us for a while. Tragically, Dana died alone in an abandoned building from a fentanyl overdose.

Each year we hold a service for people who couldn’t have a proper funeral or were unclaimed at death. Members approach the microphone, sharing memories of God's goodness in the lives of the departed. I’m reminded of a Jason Isbell lyric: “Hardly even know my name anymore/ When no one calls it out, it kind of vanishes away.” So, we say the names of these people, remembering we are saved by God’s grace and joined together by God’s Spirit.

After the names are spoken, we are reminded from Scripture that nothing in this world—neither death nor life nor anything else—can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus.

Near the front, Tyesha cradles her son Hakeem while Layla and Brooklyn sit beside her. Brooklyn’s eyes widen as I proclaim, “For you, Dana, Jesus Christ came into the world; for you, he died; for you, he conquered death. Dana, child of God, you are part of God’s family.”

For you, dear reader, Jesus Christ came into the world, died, and conquered death. You are part of God’s family.