If the last government shutdown felt like a circus, that is because it was. Different clowns, same circus. While D.C. argued over who trips the elephant, real people in Weld County worried about rent, groceries, and whether paychecks would land. Soldiers and federal workers stared at zeroes. Families asked if their SNAP cards would still swipe. That is not a game for cable news points. That is dinner, diapers, and dignity.
Two things can be true at the same time. I believe in a real social safety net for neighbors who hit hard times. I also believe we have let parts of that net sag into a very comfortable hammock. The first saves lives. The second quietly steals futures. The moral work is to keep the net strong and the hammock short lived.
This is personal for me because I live in the guts of the system. As your Weld County Commissioner, I spend a lot of time where acronyms multiply like rabbits. I chair the Works Allocation Committee, the state created body that oversees how Temporary Assistance for Needy Families dollars get distributed by formula. I serve on the statewide Child Welfare Allocation Committee and the statewide Joint Alignment Committee. I represent county commissioners across Colorado on the Colorado Benefits Management System Executive Steering Committee. That is a mouthful, but here is the point. Our model in Colorado is state managed and county administered. If it runs well, families get timely help. If it bogs down in politics or paperwork, people feel it at the kitchen table.
During the shutdown, one of my biggest worries was SNAP, the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program many still call food stamps. In Weld County, about 40,000 people rely on roughly 7 million dollars in monthly benefits. Quick back of the envelope math says that is about 175 dollars per person per month on average. That is not caviar. That is milk, eggs, ground beef, and fresh produce when you can snag a sale. It also flows into local grocers and helps keep paychecks in Weld County stores.
But here is where the tension lives. While I care deeply for those families, I am also worried about how comfortable we have all become with government as the first and sometimes only responder. Churches and community groups used to be the frontline for neighbors in trouble. Some still are. Many have shrunk or stepped back. Government filled the vacuum, in a structure that is often bloated and expensive. We bought convenience and lost connection.
Let me pick on TANF for a second because it shows the tradeoffs. TANF works best when it is a bridge back to work. Counties used to have more tools to help adults retrain, get child care sorted, fix a car so they can get to the job site, and land a credential that actually pays. Too often, state legislators have swept more of those dollars into Basic Cash Assistance, which sounds kind but can crowd out the very services that turn a short-term crisis into a long-term comeback. Cash has a role. It is flexible, fast, and respectful. But cash by itself does not reattach someone to the workforce. Work supports do.
Scripture has a way of cutting through the spin. The Bible says, share each other’s burdens, and in this way obey the law of Christ. That is Galatians 6:2. Burdens, not entire lives. The same Bible also says, those unwilling to work will not get to eat, which is 2 Thessalonians 3:10. Unwilling is not the same as unable. Wisdom lives in that gap. When we ignore the first verse, we get cruelty. When we ignore the second, we get dependency. Either ditch is bad citizenship and worse leadership.
So what do we do, practically, right now in Weld County and across Colorado?
First, protect food continuity, not political theater. Families should not wonder if breakfast depends on a late-night procedural stunt. That means building administrative cushions at the state and county level so benefits can be loaded on time even when Congress goes cliff diving. It also means better contingency communication, the plain English kind. If the card will reload on the 1st, say that loudly. If it will not, say that louder and tell people exactly where to get groceries that week.
Second, bring back the work toolbox inside TANF. Training tied to real employers. Short-term credentials that actually move wages. Transportation help that gets people to the job and back, not just to the interview. Child care supports that match shift work. Outcome-based contracts with community partners. If a provider helps a parent land and keep a job for six months, pay them more. If they do not, pay them less. We should be buying results, not invoices.
Third, expect something in return, scaled to reality. If you are able-bodied, a plan is part of the help. If you are caring for a newborn, or managing a disability, or fleeing abuse, the plan looks different. Mercy and accountability are not enemies. They are teammates. James says, suppose you see a brother or sister who has no food or clothing, you say goodbye and good luck, but you do not give that person any food or clothing. What good does that do? That is James 2:15 to 17. Real compassion feeds today and equips for tomorrow.
Fourth, recruit the church and civil society without scolding them. I am a believer, and I also know Sunday announcements are not a workforce strategy. We need concrete on ramps. Meal trains for families in transition. Mentors for single parents reentering work. Car repair co-ops. Employer-led apprenticeships with churches and nonprofits providing the wraparound. If that sounds old-fashioned, good. Old-fashioned built towns like ours. Jeremiah tells God’s people to work for the peace and prosperity of the city where I sent you. Pray to the Lord for it, for its welfare will determine your welfare. Jeremiah 29:7. Civic prosperity is a team sport.
Fifth, stop pretending counties are the problem when they are the closest to the solution. Local teams see the gaps first. Give us clear rules, quick data, and enough flexibility to fix what is right in front of us. Hold us to performance, not to paperwork for paperwork’s sake. As Proverbs says, know the state of your flocks, and put your heart into caring for your herds. Proverbs 27:23. Counties are the shepherds with mud on our boots. Let us do the tending.
Let me steelman the other side fairly. Some folks argue that cash is the most dignifying help because it trusts families to know what they need. They point out that many training programs are red tape with a certificate nobody hires for. They remind us that child care and housing costs can swallow an entire paycheck, so work alone is not a magic wand. They are right that there is real waste in program land, and right that some people work hard and still come up short. I hear that. I see that.
Here is my answer. Yes to cash when the house is on fire. Yes to services that rebuild the house after the fire. Yes to expecting able bodied adults to pick up a hammer when the smoke clears. No to program vanity projects. No to making poverty a career. No to counties being treated like vending machines that spit out checks and keep quiet. We can be compassionate and exacting, generous and demanding, kind and clear.
If the shutdown taught Weld County anything, it should be this. We are at our best when neighbors carry neighbors, when churches and nonprofits lean in, and when government aims precisely instead of spraying dollars like a busted hydrant. Let us keep the net strong and the hammock temporary. Let us measure success not by how many people we enroll, but by how many people we graduate back into self sufficiency. And let us remember why we do any of this in the first place. Because people matter. Because kids deserve steady tables and calmer parents. Because work is not punishment. It is purpose.
We can build that kind of community. It starts small. A volunteer shift. A donated car. A business willing to hire a parent who is trying again. A church that decides benevolence funds are a mission, not a line item. Government doing what only government can do, and then getting out of the way. If we do that together, next time the circus rolls into town, it will not feel so scary. We will know our flocks. We will have each other. And the net will catch people who fall without turning into a hammock they never leave.
