Broken For You

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One of the best parts of my week is being able to serve communion at Grace and Main’s Thursday night meals. On some very special weeks, I may get to serve communion at more than one service or meal! There’s just something about that moment when the community stands in quiet recognition of what that bread and juice mean before reaching out their hands to partake in one of the great mysteries the Church has to offer. We come to our meals from so many different places and backgrounds, but we are united in that moment around a plate and a cup. With both our hushed reverence and our robust laughter, we are proclaiming something beautiful—namely, that God has made sinners into one body and called that body to be God’s hands and feet. You can see why this would be one of the best parts of what I get to do.

Most weeks, I have two or three willing helpers from among our younger brothers and sisters. They join me in lifting the plate and the cup before the eager audience and in quietly reciting to themselves the beginning of what I say each week, “That which I give to you is that which I also received—that on the night in which Jesus was betrayed, he took bread…” They are eager to hold the cup while I pour and always willing to lift the plate beneath my hands as I break the bread. In that moment, one of my most genuine pleasures is to watch their faces as I invite a crowd of prodigals, sinners, saints, and loved ones to “remember again our Lord’s death until he comes again”—they seem to know intuitively that something beautiful and shocking is happening around that plate and cup and that they’re an important part of it.

Usually, after one of our sisters or brothers has lifted their voice to give thanks for the food that lies before us, my helpers are ready to get into line to prepare their own plates. But, several weeks ago one of my helpers, an eight-year-old named Sean, didn’t put the cup back down onto the table when everybody else was remembering which water glass was their own and making sure they had a napkin. Instead, Sean asked me timidly if he could help me serve communion that night. I gladly replied, “of course you can, little brother” and told him to say “the blood of Christ” when people dipped their bread into the cup. He nodded enthusiastically and we began to offer the body and blood of Christ to a crowd of eager hands who were hungry for so much more than spaghetti and garlic bread.

After a few dozen folks had passed by us and heard Sean proclaim “the blood of Christ,” Sean asked if he could “do the bread, now.” We traded, and before I could tell him what to say, he was off like a shot among the tables of folks waiting for us to come to them. I moved quickly to keep up with him and was never much more than two or three steps behind him, always arriving in time to hear him declare, “the body of Christ, broken for you, sir” and “the body of Christ, broken for you, ma’am.” Faced with his youthful enthusiasm and genuine desire to serve them, even some of our folks who don’t usually partake were moved to join us in declaring our common bonds through Christ.

He was so eager to bring the plate to folks who otherwise might have not been able to partake with us because of mobility issues or their own social anxiety, that you might never have guessed that only two years previous this was the boy who had never heard the name Jesus before, but who was very interested in precisely why we were praying to him. Over the years, Sean has developed a number of meaningful relationships with many of our leaders at Grace and Main, but something has been changing slowly in him over the last year or so. He is still the boisterous boy he has always been, but he’s also the boy who wants to make sure everybody gets to participate in this thing we’re doing. He’s still mischievous, but he’s also the one who runs to get his friends any time we’re nearby on the chance that we’ll have time to play. He may still have so many things to learn about what it means to follow Jesus (don’t we all?), but we’re confident that he’s figuring them out—one week at a time—and it’s our tremendous pleasure to serve alongside him and run to keep up.

It’s Not Every Day

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This past fall, we had the idea to a unique awareness and fundraising campaign that highlighted the shelter situation of so many of our homeless and near-homeless brothers and sisters in Danville. We started by pitching two tents on the front lawn of one of our partner congregations: Ascension Lutheran Church. To this, we added signs around the tents that shared some statistics about the prevalence and reality of homelessness in our city and region. Then, we put out a sign with a phone number for people to call if they’d like to participate in the second part of the campaign.

You see, we invited people to make a donation to Third Chance Ministries in order to move the tents and signs to somebody else’s lawn for a day or so. Once it landed on your lawn, you could let it stay for a few days, or you could make a donation of your own and move it somebody else’s lawn. Of course, we wanted to do all this with a gracious spirit so, if you really didn’t want it on your lawn, we’d be glad to move it free of charge (but nobody was upset by our tents and signs, thankfully). We hoped that the sight of these tents popping up all around town and on the lawns of various congregations would inspire people to think about all the places where the homeless were that they couldn’t see as easily as our tents and signs. The stark reality is that most of our homeless brothers and sisters would love to have a tent like the ones we borrowed when they are forced to sleep outside—no matter how nice the weather.

We expected that people would enjoy the tents and that it would encourage good conversation, but what we didn’t expect was what happened that first day. Fifteen minutes after the tents went up, I received a phone call from the pastor at Ascension, Meredith, letting us know that she had figured out one of the unanticipated outcomes of our tents: somebody had moved into one of the tents.

It’s not every day that somebody moves into your object lesson.

Matt (another Grace and Main leader) and I went over immediately to connect with the gentleman who had moved into one of the tents and to see what his story was. Matt, Meredith, and I met with Bill in Ascension’s library while Meredith’s children put together a care package from supplies they found in the kitchen and the nearby candy bowl. Bill told us how the night before had been the first night he had ever been forced to sleep outside. He had been run out of his shelter by a vengeful landlord, who had refused to offer a lease to Bill at the beginning of their arrangement. The sad truth is that many of our brothers and sisters on the hard side of the financial ball often have little leverage when it comes to negotiating secure shelter and are forced into untenable situations.

We listened as Bill shared about finding an abandoned house at nearly 2:00 a.m. and taking emergency shelter when he found the back door ajar and had confirmed that not only was nobody there but that the power and water had been turned off—he desperately didn’t want to disturb anybody or trespass on somebody’s property, but winter was already creeping into our city and he knew he shouldn’t be outside all night. He had been terrified at every noise and desperate for warmth and food, so he set out as the sun rose and began looking for help and shelter without his identification, since his landlord would not return his meager possessions since turning him out into the night.

We let him know that sleeping in those tents was more likely to draw unwanted and negative attention, plus it wouldn’t be warm or safe for him. We reassured him that we wouldn’t let him sleep outside or in an abandoned house that night. We made some phone calls and found a way to provide him with secure and stable shelter for several weeks while he got his feet back underneath him. Your donations, and the donations of others, made it possible to meet Bill where he was and invite him to participate in the Kingdom of God for a little while. After all, that’s what happened that day that Bill moved into our tents—we had another opportunity to model a different way of living and a different way of caring for those whom God loves so dearly.

It’s not every day that somebody moves into your object lesson, but the Kingdom of God can show up any day in an unexpected place, bearing grace, mercy, love, and forgiveness. We want to be around when that happens!

Bring ‘Em Back

The most recent edition of Third Chances, a newsletter about ministry in Danville, Virginia, is available at: http://eepurl.com/vKXlb

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For many of our folks, this was the first time they’d ever attended an “Ash Wednesday” service. After discussing what Ash Wednesday was all about—repentance, recommitment, preparation for the Lenten journey—they were on board, but still didn’t know what to expect. Much time was given to discussing whether it was better to take the ashes on your forehead or on the back of your hand and opinions abounded for both positions. Furthermore, since this community Ash Wednesday service was happening at Ascension Lutheran Church—one of our partner congregations who hosts one of our Thursday night meals every month—there was some discussion of just how communion would be happening. We went over what it would look like and, for some of our brothers and sisters, how to indicate they’d prefer juice over wine.

On the night of Ash Wednesday, our diverse little band of brothers and sisters arrived in cars and vans, packed in tightly and buzzing about the next night’s dinner plans. That night, we numbered 25. Voices hushed as we entered the sanctuary and we were once again impressed by the beauty of the space and reminded that tonight was a special night—a holy night. With whispered voices, we discussed the candles and which one represented Jesus. We looked for our favorite symbols on their kneeling pads and elbowed each other when we found one we didn’t recognize. With hushed consideration, we examined each of the minister’s robes and stoles, each of us picking out the one we thought was the best. We took some time to look around the sanctuary and see representatives of so many congregations in Danville. Many of the congregations represented were partners with us and we were glad to recognize so many faces.

The service was thoughtful and contemplative—a  style many of us are very comfortable with—and we considered the scripture and the words of the preacher. We partook of one loaf and one cup and proclaimed our unity with those gathered and with the great Church Universal. We wore ashes on our skin with that curious mix of quiet confidence and contrition that is so common to Ash Wednesday throughout our world. There were so many things that were new and strange to so many of us that night. We came because it was where we belonged on a night like that, but we brought so many questions and curious thoughts with us.

A local minister implored us to remember the many folks in Danville who were hungry. She said to us, “Maybe none of us here has ever been hungry…” and my eyes flew to a number of our folks who have known hunger all too well—who have felt its desperate grip and struggled to find not just their daily bread, but their barest sustenance as well. They gave me a sheepish grin and shrugged their shoulders. I looked around at our little flock gathered in that beautiful space and considered how many of our leaders and beloved were precisely the people that the imminent offering was intended to serve. The plates were distributed Ascension’s ushers and an offering was called for one of our favorite organizations, God’s Storehouse, to help provide food for those without.

The plates passed so quickly that some of our folks barely saw them coming. In a moment, the offering plates had moved on to the pews in front of them. Though there may have been many things that night about which we had questions, this was one that seemed crystal clear to our little crew of beloved and lovely folks. One of our more recently developed leaders—half-rising from his seat—gestured to one of the ushers that we’d like to contribute. Piercing the silence of that gorgeous space, he softly said, “Bring ‘em back.” The shocked usher stood still for a moment and then brought a plate back to pass. From our pockets came both crumpled ones and fives and crisp twenties; both hastily written checks and handfuls of change. Too many of us knew hunger too well to let those plates pass silently. People who once had depended upon charity to eat (and some who still do) gave of themselves and eagerly called for the opportunity to do so. For a few short moments, the Kingdom reigned in that place and in those pews.

The rest of the offering, and the night itself, went off without a hitch and 25 of us piled back into cars and vans with ashes on our skin reminding us that it is from dust that we came and it is to dust that we shall surely return. But, in the meantime we’re going to keep calling back the offering plates and pouring our lives into all those places where the world tells us we’re wasting our time. We’re going to keep cultivating grace and mercy in desperate places—confident that nothing can hold back the Kingdom of God from springing up all around us.

This Is Where We Belong

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A little over twelve months ago I found myself in one of my favorite places in Danville: near tacos and with a friend. My friend always insists on paying for the meal, saying “I’ll pay if you pray—for the meal that is.” Only a couple months before this lunch, I had finally committed myself to doing something that frightened me more than I can really explain. Namely, I had started the process of leaving my part-time job at a lovely, local congregation (First Baptist Church of Danville, VA) to follow what my wife Jessica and I felt God was calling us to do: to lead and serve full-time among the homeless, near-homeless, poor, and addicted in Southside Virginia.

I knew that this whole venture would require me to raise financial support from willing donors and, at the time, I’d never done any significant fundraising. We had agreed with FBC that our last day was a little over 7 months away and I’d had some limited success raising pledges of financial support but there was still a long way to go before it would be possible for me to follow where my community affirmed I was being called. So, I scheduled a lunch and confessed my fears to this dear friend—harboring in my heart the hope that he knew something I didn’t and could cast away my anxieties with knowledgeable and reasonable assurances.

But, he didn’t do anything like that. Instead, he said, “Of course it’s scary. You’re following God,” and then parroting the words I had used to describe the beginning of the process, “and it’s an adventure. It’s not meant to be comfortable—it’s faith!” I could feel the back of my neck getting sweaty as the last word left his lips and I realized that he wasn’t going to take away my fears and anxieties.

But as I considered his surprising words, he continued, “Josh, the only thing that surprised me about you going full-time was how long it took you to get there.” Noticing my confused look, he added, “This is what you’re supposed to do. It’s apparent to me and just about everybody else. Now, you have to go out and find other people who can see what God is doing at Grace and Main.”

My anxieties were still there and I still had a long way to go toward raising the financial support that I would need to make it possible for me to be supported in ministry, but that was the day that I discovered something incredible through the Spirit speaking through my friends: I was going to do this, whether I could make a living at it or not. God had led us into this place and this was where we belonged.

That friend and his lovely wife were one of the first families to pledge their support to Third Chance Ministries, the organization that supports me and others as missionaries among the homeless, near-homeless, poor, and addicted in Southside Virginia. Over the next seven months, God blessed us with faithful and generous donors who could see where the Spirit was moving in our midst and who were glad to join with us in service by adding their support to the support of others. As of this morning, nearly 60 families have committed themselves to helping to support not only me, but also two other missionaries—one of whom is already actively serving and leading on the Northside of Danville. Many of you who receive this newsletter are among the individuals and families who make this all possible. For that, I say thank you and please look to your mailbox in the upcoming weeks for a record of your donations in 2012. We are thrilled to have your support, even as we continue serving and raising funds to enable others also to join us in the place where God has led us: the place we’re meant to be.

Just an Ordinary Hotel Room

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It was just an ordinary hotel room the night before—two beds, a television, a couple of chairs, a forgettable print of some unknown artwork, and a Gideons’ bible in the bedside table—but something was different that night. That night, as the sun set and people made their way to their homes and their families throughout our beloved city, a mother wrapped her arms around her children and made those few hundred square feet into a refuge from cold nights and colder hearts. For a few nights, she was safe and had her children around her; and that was enough.

We first met Claire while out walking the streets downtown, taking part in what we call the “Roving Feast.” That is to say, as we do several times each week, we were setting up impromptu picnics and dinner parties in so many different abandoned and neglected places—whether on a street corner or under the meager shelter of a building overhang or beneath a particularly full tree on some street where folks assure us that “good people don’t spend their time there.” She joined us at a meal and we started getting to know her.

Claire is homeless and has struggled on and off with addiction to various life-stealing substances. Like so many of our beloved sisters downtown and elsewhere, she soon learned that shelter for a single woman with no family or loved ones can come at a steep, steep price. The first time she sold her body to some cold hearted man, she did so because that was the currency which he demanded for shelter under his roof that cold, dark night. The sad reality of many of our beloved sisters is that they do not sell themselves for some gain or some consensual reason, but because they have so little power to do otherwise when presented with hard decisions and hard hearts.

Claire is also a mother to three beautiful children who were taken from her when her husband left and she was without support or shelter any longer. For a while, she was able to visit them in the foster home where they were placed, but soon her ex-husband gained custody and moved 84 miles away—a short distance for those with access to reliable transportation, but a crippling distance for those without access even to shelter and food, let alone a car and gasoline. Separate from her children, she was despondent and desperate.
But it wasn’t the end of the story, for our God is on the side of the desperate and joins with those who have lost all hope.

One night we learned that Claire’s ex-husband was coming back to visit his family for the weekend and would be bringing the kids with him. Claire wasn’t welcome in the home of those who used to be her in-laws, but her ex-husband was okay with her having the children if she could find a sheltered place to keep them. So, Claire called us and wanted to know if we could help her spend a weekend with her children. We jumped at the chance, knowing that none of the places where she could find shelter would be suitable for children—especially since there were already unsuitable for Claire and every other one of God’s children.

So, we paid for a nice hotel room for a weekend and stocked it with food, games, and children’s movies. We bought some new clothes for our sister Claire so her children might continue to see her as she deserved to be seen: a beautiful woman with dignity and hope. It was just an ordinary hotel room, but Claire built a little corner of heaven with us between the single-serve coffee machine and the hotel stationary. It was just like every other hotel room in the building that weekend, but it also became something beautiful for one weekend. It was a place where the Kingdom of God and its values reigned over all. It was a place where strangers and sinners were named brother, sister, and friend. It was a place where redemption began and continued in Claire’s sobriety that weekend and continued sobriety for months to come. It was a place where lives were mended and hopes rekindled. It was a momentary victory of our King Jesus over a cold and hard world.

It was just an ordinary hotel room, but for at least one weekend it was so much more.

Merry Christmas from Third Chance Ministries

The most recent edition of Third Chances, a newsletter about ministry in Danville, Virginia, is available at: http://eepurl.com/s5JXH

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Merry Christmas!

We at Third Chance Ministries want to wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

This is our prayer for you in this season and in the new year:

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May the Father bless you so that you may bless others.

May the Spirit move in your life in ways that are undeniable and inescapable, calling you ever onward in service to the Kingdom of God.

May our Lord who did not have a home move you to care for His beloved who also do not have homes.

May the Father heal the broken places in your life.

May the Spirit who intercedes for us both comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable.

May our Lord who died for sinners like you and me call us to sacrifice our lives for others.

May you know the love of the Father who waits by the road for each prodigal son and daughter to come stumbling back home.

May you see the secret places where the Spirit is changing the world and redeeming sinners and saints.

May you be recast, again and again, in the image of our crucified and loving Lord.

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Merry Christmas and thank you for your continued support of Third Chance Ministries and its effort to support missionaries and leaders among the homeless, near-homeless, poor, and addicted.

The Best Breakfast in Danville

The most recent edition of Third Chances, a newsletter about ministry in Danville, Virginia, is available at: http://eepurl.com/sCbP9

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To be honest, we didn’t see it coming. The pace can be pretty quick around Grace and Main some weeks and this frantic following of the Spirit can often tempt us to miss some of the small moments of grace that slide past in less noticeable ways. But, grace of any grandness and mercy of any magnitude must be celebrated and appreciated if we are to be a people who follow after a God who chose to save us by becoming one of us. If we consider again the story of Christmas even as it looms on the horizon, we must confess that our God loves to work the miraculous in the midst of the mundane.

But, because we were busy working on short-term and long-term shelter options, hosting larger and larger weekly meals, building relationships among the homeless, near-homeless, poor, and addicted, and generally trying to follow where the Spirit was leading us, we didn’t notice a beautiful thing that God was working in our midst. On a street in North Danville, the Kingdom was taking root in a new way. In the midst of poverty, addiction, crime, and desperation, the Spirit was giving birth to abundance, generosity, hope, and faith. Where sin had known few boundaries, love was winning the day.

What we discovered in that place was some a breakfast one weekday morning. Some of the folks we ate dinner with every Thursday night started hosting an open breakfast every week out of their homes. These few folks, who we first encountered on a Roving Feast, were former addicts and homeless brothers and sisters who had found grace and hope and who were becoming a part of our leadership and group of regulars. Now, they were pooling their meager resources—the little cash they could spare from their jobs and some of their food stamps—to buy eggs, bacon, grits, and milk. They started giving up the security that comes with a little more cash in your pocket to buy flour and baking powder to make biscuits. All this they do—and all this they sacrifice—to show God’s love to a neighborhood full of hurting and desperate people.

At first, it was just a half dozen folks showing up to eat breakfast quietly and go on about their days. But now it is nearly 30 folks who show up to laugh, talk, and share their lives with each other once a week around folding tables full of food. Once again, it seems that grace has multiplied in the margins of our world and God’s Spirit is found moving most strongly in the place where we might least expect it. We should not fail to notice that it was our brothers and sisters who are least equipped to sacrifice that have humbly and willingly sacrificed to serve our loving God. They’ve given boldly and generously, not from their plenty or their wealth, but because they have built a relationship with a God who calls them ever onward in service and with a community that celebrates their redemption and transformation.

Oh yes, the Spirit is moving in Danville and neighborhoods are being changed. Those who once were quiet participants in a Roving Feast in the abandoned and neglected places of Danville are now leaders and co-conspirators in this conspiracy of grace, mercy, and forgiveness. Lives are being changed and transformed in all those places you might not think to look and the celebrations are practically unceasing. Things are changing—one relationship at a time and one meal at a time.