I give free haircuts once a week to men coming out of jail, rehab, or homelessness. People ask me why I do it, and the truth is simple: I know what it feels like to look in the mirror and not recognize the man staring back.
Years ago, I went through my own season of darkness. I wasn’t in jail, but I might as well have been – stuck in choices I didn’t know how to get out of, ashamed of who I’d become, and convinced God had run out of patience with me.
One day, a man invited me to sit in his chair for a haircut. That simple gesture ended up changing more than my appearance. He talked to me like I mattered. He didn’t ask about my mistakes. He just saw me. By the time he turned me back toward the mirror, I felt like maybe my life wasn’t over after all.
I never forgot that.
Now, every Thursday evening, I open my shop after hours and welcome in men who are trying to rebuild their lives. Some come straight from a shelter. Some are fresh out of rehab. Some are carrying the weight of their past in their eyes. Most of them walk in with their heads down. I get it. Shame has a way of shrinking the soul.
But I tell every man who sits in my chair the same thing: “You’re not finished. God hasn’t given up on you. So, neither will I.”
We talk about life. We talk about starting over. Sometimes we don’t talk at all, because what they really need is someone to listen. I’ve had men cry quietly when they see themselves cleaned up again. One told me it was the first time he’d felt human in years.
A haircut doesn’t fix a lifetime of hurt, but it can open a door. It’s a small way of saying, “You still matter.” And if God could pull me out of my own mess, then I believe He can do the same for every man who walks through my door.
I don’t do this for recognition. I do it because someone once made me feel like I was worth saving, and now I get to pass on that same grace.
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