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We’ve told you about our brother Roland before in these newsletters (click here to read one). Perhaps you know how he escaped homelessness for the first time in over a dozen years a few years back and how we helped him find a clean and fairly rented apartment in one of our beloved neighborhoods. Perhaps you know how overjoyed he was when a friend of Grace and Main (and member of First Baptist Church) donated a bed and some furniture for Roland’s new apartment. You might know about how Roland began providing hospitality in his apartment for homeless folks his second night there on some of that donated furniture—he reminded us, “Folks need a place to stay.” You might know that we commissioned Roland as our minister of prayer early on in our community’s life and he has guided us spiritually time and again and taught many of how better to pray, as well as how he prays over and blesses many of the groups that retreat with us. You might even know that Roland was eventually able to find another apartment by himself, in spite of some his particular challenges, and how he budgets and saves to continue to offer hospitality in his new home and to welcome us there to study scripture and share meals.

What you might not know is that Roland had surgery this past December on his heart. He joined another one of our homes for a little over a month as he recovered from surgery in one of our hospitality rooms. After a while, Roland learned to like the fair-trade coffee and began to experiment with a few different ways of preparing his morning oatmeal. He shared Christmas morning with his new (temporary) housemates and was more excited about the meal than any of the small gifts we passed around. He was insistent that some of us keep an eye on his house so that folks could still find a place to stay and would have the sheets, towels, and food they needed even if he couldn’t be there while he recovered—we were glad to do so. He led the house in prayer upon occasion and taught his housemates better how to greet each morning with joy. We learned much from Roland over those several weeks—about how to live faithfully and dependently upon God—but eventually he returned to his own home with a mixture of sadness and gladness.

Because of the surgery and recovery, Roland is doing much better now. He’s back to walking nearly everywhere he wants to go. He gets up early, has his breakfast, and off he goes into our neighborhoods on whatever mission God has placed on his plate for the day. Each Sunday evening he comes to one of the Grace and Main houses to pray and worship together. Sometimes, he contributes a song or a prayer, but always he brings himself and his prayer list. He offers special prayers in the meantime over our book of prayer and for all the people and causes written inside of it. Each Wednesday, our community gathers together to study scripture and Roland is a part of that, as well. When our leaders gather to make decisions as a body, Roland joins us. He has joined us at nearly every meal we’ve hosted as a community for nearly four years and contributes food to the feast when he can.


Lots of folks see Roland and think only of the ways he has been blessed by participation in our community and by the actions of other local congregations and individuals. It seems often that our congregations and communities have learned to see the world of mission and ministry in stark terms of caregivers and care recipients. Yet, Roland does not fit into just one of these categories. He is neither or he is both, but nobody should insist that he is one or the other. This isn’t only the case for Roland, but also for the countless folks still out there on the streets, taking shelter in stairwells or abandoned buildings, begging for daily bread or pocket change, or fighting desperately against their own demons. We have the grand privilege of walking arm in arm with Roland and many others toward our Lord and our God and living and serving alongside a wide variety of beloved and blessed brothers and sisters, and we cannot get there without them. The sooner we can learn to believe that this is true, the sooner we all can be set free to do God’s work in good and powerful ways in our homes, congregations, and neighborhoods. Those folks we’ve learned to look away from are not problems waiting to be solved, but they are the very keys to our freedom in Christ through love.

You see, the world is changing around Roland. God is using him to teach us even more about grace, hospitality, prayer, and joy. Through Roland we are learning more and more about the power of community, the discipline of hospitality, and the deep, deep love of Jesus. We’re thrilled to call him part of our little community and a leader in our midst because God has given us to him and him to us.

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

You can receive future editions of the newsletter in your email by subscribing at: http://eepurl.com/j3EuP

One Sunday night, Emily approached me as people were making their way out of our home after worshiping with us and sharing a piece of cake with a sister in celebration of one month of sobriety. As people trickled out to their cars with hugs and a few more jokes and encouraging words to our recently clean sister, Emily hung back with a look of frustration on her face. As I placed our community’s Christ candle back on its shelf, I noticed that Emily was waiting for me.

“Hey Em,” I said, “it’s been nice having you to eat and pray with us these last couple of weeks.” She had only been showing up for a couple of weeks, but she seemed to be interested in what we were doing and our own particular way of living in God’s Kingdom. I continued, “What’s on your mind? Something you wanna talk about?” I figured it had something to do with Alan, who she had connected with strongly at one of her first meals with us—after a great conversation with Emily, Alan approached us about being ready to seek treatment and find better shelter, but he had recently relapsed after about 9 days clean. We were all disappointed, but this was the first time Emily had dealt with something like this and most of our leaders had seen something like it at least a few times, and while that doesn’t make it hurt any less, it does prepare you for it.

Abruptly, as if she had stored the question away for a few days to ferment before letting it pop in our living-room-turned-chapel, she asked, “It’s not as easy as I thought it was. Is it?”

I won’t dare say that I knew what she was feeling or thinking in that moment, because it’s beyond presumptuous to assume I could wrap my head around her own experience. But, in that moment as that honest and heartbroken question sprang forth, my mind flashed back to the first time something like that had happened to me at Grace and Main. With a slow shake of my head, I sighed and answered her, “No. It hardly ever is.”
You see, so many new folks are so very confident when they first show up to our meals, prayers, studies, worship, or get-togethers. They’ve learned from a combination of articles, books, pundits, sermons, Facebook posts, television shows, and teachers that poverty, homelessness, addiction, and hunger are simple things with simple solutions. These folks come with confidence and good intentions, believing that they have something to offer to brothers and sisters in desperate places and situations. Inevitably, they come to the same conclusion that all of us arrive at eventually, when our heart is broken and our confidence is shaken by the complicated nature of the work we do in our neighborhoods—the same place Emily arrived with her hands on the other end of our altar cloth as we folded it together.

“It’s different—” Emily began before cutting off in a thoughtful pause, “it’s different when you know somebody—when it’s not just something to talk about.” With frustration showing at the edges of her eyes, she added, “I wish it was easier. I wish I knew exactly what to do and when to do it to really help.”

Every time I get to have this important conversation with someone (which is about once a month on average), I find that this is the hardest moment. I know in that moment that they’ve come to me because they want me to replace their scratched and busted confidence with a promise that it gets easier—a promise that they can do the work we do and retain the confidence that they brought with them. I know that most of them want me to say something like, “Well, the secret to working among the marginalized is…” or “When you’ve prayed for somebody to get clean and to leave behind the substances that makes them a slave, all you have to do to make it happen is…” But, all I can say in that moment when they’ve placed their ailing confidence on the table and said they wished it was easier or that they always knew what to do is, “We all do, sister. We all do.”

In Emily’s case, and in nearly all of the versions of this conversation that I get to have, we talked about just how complicated it is. We talked about how homelessness and poverty are, at their most essential, not problems of material resources, but instead are relationship problems. We talked about why we say that relationships and consistent presence are foundational in what we do. We talked about the blistering chains of addiction and brothers and sisters still in bondage even after many attempts at liberation. I made Emily a promise that I try to make to all folks who make it to that hard moment of withering confidence: “I promise you that if you keep serving alongside us, your heart is going to be broken time and again, because a relationship isn’t real until you hurt when they hurt and celebrate when they celebrate. But, I promise you that in each of those moments of frustration and heartbreak, we’ll stand next to you and hold you up—because our relationship with you isn’t real until we hurt when you hurt, and celebrate when you celebrate. I promise that our Lord will stand next to you as well, once again proclaiming like he did with the cross that a relationship isn’t real until you hurt when they hurt and celebrate when they celebrate.”

You see, nearly all of us come to that hard place with confidence—knowing exactly how to fix poverty, homelessness, addiction, hunger, and other injustices and evils—but we find that we have to lay our confidence at the foot of the cross and commit ourselves to loving first and understanding only later. The answers aren’t easy, but our calling is simple: to love our neighbor and to love God. The beautiful thing is that when God sends us back to our community, God sends us with something to replace the confidence laying shattered at the cross. God replaces our confidence with hope, and we know that “hope does not disappoint us.

The end of year tax-deductible donation letters went out in the mail last week. If you donated to Third Chance Ministries in 2013 and you’ve not yet received you letter, then be on the lookout for it soon. We could not have done all that we did in 2013 without your support–your support of us with your prayers, your support of us with your generous donations, and your support of us with your voice when you shared our newsletter with others and invited us to come and speak to congregations and groups with which you are affiliated. The past year was an amazing success and an incredible adventure to take with you and we not only give thanks for what has passed, but also we wait with eager anticipation for what is yet to come in 2014.

In 2013, the staff of Third Chance Ministries expanded to include three new staff members. In January of 2013, we added Bruce Hopson to our staff as a Missionary to the Northside of Danville. In July of 2013, we added Ben Wright at our Missionary to Downtown Danville. In August of 2013, we added Tracy Gwynn as our Administrative Assistant. These new staff members are changing the neighborhoods in which they live and serve by developing new, indigenous leaders, advocating for justice in their midst, providing pastoral care and active listening, feeding and clothing those most in need, and providing hospitality out of their own homes and spaces. With your support, we are having strong, positive impacts and seeing results from our deep engagement and investment in these areas of profound need. Around our missionaries, we’re seeing communities spring up and neighborhoods that are contributing from their own limited supplies in order to be a part of the ministry that is going on in their midst.

In short, because of the movement of God’s Spirit, because of your support and generosity, because of the willingness of missionaries (both paid and unpaid), and because of the support of Grace and Main Fellowship and its ministry, the Kingdom of God is moving in unexpected and lovely places.

Slightly over 85% of donations made to Third Chance Ministries were made by individuals and families–many of whom are committed to being “sustaining partners.” It is because of our sustaining partners, that we were able to bring on additional staff this year to focus in the areas where have focused. Becoming a sustaining partner is simple: call, email, or write Joshua (3CM’s Executive Director) and give him an estimate of what you’d like to donate over the next year and how often you plan on writing a check (or having your bank automatically write one). By doing this, you allow us to budget based on your generosity and to make some predictions about the next few years. Most of our supporters do this already with some writing monthly checks and others writing one check a year.

A little over 14% of donations made to Third Chance Ministries in 2013 were made by congregations, organizations, and businesses who have seen the work we’re doing and want to be a part of it. Some of the congregations connected with us have seen growth among their leaders by being involved in our hands-on and deeply personal way of doing things. By being involved with Grace and Main Fellowship and Third Chance Ministries, these organizations are entertaining brave discussions of what it means to be a missional organization in the 21st century and we are glad to have them as partners with us. We’re also glad to partner with your congregation or organization. Just call, email, or write us and let us know that you’d like for one of us to come and speak to your organization or to sit down and discuss ways we can partner together.

Here’s a few of the things that we did in 2013 that you were able to join us in doing by your generosity:

  • Organized and developed a “tool library” to provide lawnmowers, weed whackers, hand tools, personal protective equipment, and a workshop to those who would use the tools to find work and to earn a living. It’s used nearly every day of the year.
  • Grace and Main’s Roving Feast, with the assistance of Third Chance Ministries staff members, provided over 6,000 meals downtown and on the Northside on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons
  • Grace and Main’s Wednesday morning Northside breakfast provided over 2,200 meals on Wednesday mornings under the direct leadership of Third Chance Ministries staff. We’re hoping to start a downtown Wednesday morning breakfast in 2014.
  • Our Northside community coffee pot provided over 750 gallons of coffee in the cold times of 2013, while we passed out even more water, kool-aid, and lemonade on the hot days. We’re hoping to start a downtown community coffee pot in 2014.
  • Our Community Artisan Fair organized local artisans and craftpersons to provide local, alternative gifts for those who were buying Christmas presents.
  • Develop dozens of new relationships, while maintaining the ones we already had, with the homeless, near-homeless, poor, addicted, and hungry
Thank  you so much for all of your support. Next month, you can expect to see another story from our work.

As Kyle and Shaun made their way down the street back toward the ramshackle house they called home after that day’s Roving Feast, one of Grace and Main’s leaders (Ed) caught up with them to ask after Jonathan who was missing from the meal. Ed fell into step with Kyle and Shaun as they told him how he was sick and had stayed home. A medical professional by profession and a missionary by calling, Ed asked if they minded if he checked in on Jonathan. The guys looked at each other for a moment before Kyle responded, “Ed, we’re going to do the devil’s work right now. You don’t wanna come.”

With a puzzled look, Ed asked, “The devil’s work?”

“We’re going to pay the devil his due,” Shaun explained with a hand gesture indicating the particular addiction they were going to satisfy. “It’s not the kind of thing you want to be around, Ed,” Shaun continued, “we appreciated the lunch and hanging out, but this isn’t your kind of thing.”

Ed considered, but replied soon after, “It’s okay. I’m a sinner too, brother.” After a short walk, they arrived at the barely-there-front-door of their home and Ed paused, asking, “Is it okay with yall for me to come in to check on Jonathan?”

Kyle shook his head and said, “We’re gonna do the devil’s work, Ed. But if you want to come in, Jonathan’s in there.” With those words, Kyle and Shaun made their way to the back of the house. In another room off to the side, Ed found Jonathan half-sleeping on a thin mattress on the floor, surrounded by trash and dirty clothes. But before he even spoke with Jonathan, Ed knew he was sick. The smell of pus and infection was an overbearing presence in the drafty room. The mattress upon which Jonathan slept fitfully was soaked with urine. You see, it was apparent that Jonathan has an abscessed tooth due in part to his own consuming addictions and in part to his lack of medical care. Jonathan’s mouth had become so infected, in fact, that his infection had eaten a hole through his cheek.

After some very basic first aid and wound care, kneeling on that urine soaked mattress, Ed told Jonathan that he really needed to go to the emergency room and offered to call an ambulance. But, as Ed was leaving he felt the Spirit speaking to his heart, reminding him of a line he had prayed that morning at morning prayer, “Stop. Don’t leave. It is Christ.” So, Ed turned around and knelt back down beside Jonathan and asked what he wanted him to do. In the midst of filth and infection, a place where “the devil’s work” was done on the regular, Jonathan asked Ed to read to him from the book of the prophet Isaiah. So, sitting on the floor with the smell of pus blanketing the air, Ed read the particular passage Jonathan wanted to hear: Isaiah 6.

Consider how it must have sounded in that room as Ed read aloud, “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory.” Even in this place, Lord? Even this place is full of your glory? Consider how it must have felt to hear, “Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!” Where God? Where can we find you in the midst of this suffering? After quite a while spent reading about Isaiah’s calling in that dark place, Jonathan asked Ed to pray with him. Jonathan led them and he prayed, “Lord, you know how much we suffer…” before being unable to continue. Ed repeated the line and Jonathan repeated it back to him again. Ed closed with an amen.

Ed promised to check in on Jonathan that evening when he came by to get Shaun and Kyle for our Thursday night dinner and to take him to the hospital if Jonathan didn’t call an ambulance in the meantime like he should. Ed said goodbye to Kyle, Shaun, and Jonathan and headed back up the street to what was left of the Roving Feast, still considering the odd arrangement of Isaiah’s words with Jonathan’s present suffering. He’d gone down into the place where he was told they were going to do “the devil’s work.” Yet, it was in this place of darkness and suffering that he had once again found the Spirit speaking not only to his heart but to the heart of our enslaved and suffering brother, Jonathan. It seems that even in the midst of the place where the “devil’s work” was overwhelming, the Spirit was still calling, leading them to join with Isaiah in saying, “Here I am, Lord. Send me.”

After visiting the emergency room, Jonathan got the antibiotics he needed and recovered from the abscess. He is still struggling with a particularly crippling combination of challenges and addictions. But, change and recovery doesn’t happen overnight and we’ve learned the power of consistent and determined love. We see him regularly on the Roving Feast, at our meals, and in our homes. After a recent Thursday night meal, he was one of the last folks we dropped off at the same home where Ed found him on the mattress. As we pulled down the road, he was singing along loudly with the radio. He’s got a nice voice under the ravages of addiction and it didn’t escape our notice that the lyric he was belting through closed eyes was, “Don’t let me go, don’t let me go.” As he stepped out of the van, the chorus came back around and he called out to the van, the houses, and the streetlights, “Don’t let me go, don’t let me go.” As he climbed the steps to his home, we pulled away to take the borrowed van back to First Baptist, but his song echoed again through our minds. Jesus told us that the gates of hell itself would not withstand the Kingdom of God. It seems that even in the places where “the devil’s work” is done, the Kingdom of God is still taking root. God is still calling people–people who will say, “Here I am, Lord. Send me”–to find those places where the Kingdom is secretly flourishing and to stand alongside those who keep saying, “Don’t let me go, don’t let me go.”

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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:

May the Father prepare a feast for you in an unexpected place that somebody else calls home.

May our Lord unite you to unexpected people and bind your life to theirs so that their good is your good and their suffering is your suffering.

May the Spirit lead you to open your own life and heart to a world in desperate need of love and hospitality.

May the Father guide you into all righteousness and show you the power of justice rightly administered.

May our Lord teach you the value of listening silence in the face of brokenness and the power of mercy wildly distributed.

May the Spirit give you not only words to say, but also silences to keep and may you know the difference between justice and mercy.

May the Father continually call you one step further than you’re comfortable and continually surprise you with the depths of God’s love.

May our Lord simplify your life and frustrate your best laid plans if they don’t bring you closer to him.

May the Spirit mend the broken parts of you and soothe you when you’re worn and sore from God’s holy formation.

Merry Christmas from the staff of Third Chance Ministries (Josh, Bruce, Ben, and Tracy) and thank you for your continued support of Third Chance Ministries and its effort to develop and support missionaries and leaders among the homeless, near-homeless, poor, addicted, and hungry.

It seems that something changed when we finally got our first good cold snap here in Danville. All of our own peculiar markers of the season changing have become unmistakable. As the temperatures dipped to frosty, even our last hanger-on (Bruce) began to admit that it might be too cold for a milkshake. Our weekly meals began to see more chili, cornbread, and hot, buttery potatoes. Grace and Main’s budget began to show a little more stress to accommodate the dozens of folks who had not yet found warm shelter. The hospitality rooms in our home finished filling up for those who would be taking shelter in our homes through the winter. Some of our faithful congregational partners began refilling our coffers with “Urban Survival Bags” for those for whom we cannot find sufficient shelter. Finally, I began to receive one of the seasonal questions I’ve come to expect: “So, any plans for Thanksgiving?”

It doesn’t seem like it should be that hard of a question to answer. After all, it’s an innocuous question at best; but it gives me pause and an opportunity to consider what we’re doing in Danville as our intentional, Christian community of hospitality, service, and discipleship struggles to live in the Kingdom of God and by the Sermon on the Mount. Usually, I give a short description of the big Thanksgiving meal that Grace and Main hosts every November and say that I’ll be having Thanksgiving with a hundred or so folks.

It’s one of the quiet traditions we have in our little community—having an outlandish meal as we near the anniversary of our start and as our budget grows thinner under the stress of need and cold weather. Since 2009, the plan has always started with the commitment that we’ll be having a big meal even though we’re not entirely sure how we’ll pull it off. Invariably, our congregational and organizational partners step forward and offer us space, food, and more. In 2011, we ate the meal in our home and didn’t have a turkey (or somebody who had experience cooking turkeys!) until the day before. That year, it was the biggest meal we’d ever hosted not in a park, but we were breaking that record every week only two months later. In 2012, we ate at God’s Storehouse (our lovely, local food pantry) and were overwhelmed by the number of partners who were eager to participate.

This year, we were hosted by our beloved partners at Ascension Lutheran Church, who have cooked a big meal for us every month for a while and stepped it up even further for Thanksgiving. I could spend many paragraphs just telling you how much of a blessing they have been to us this year and at this most recent meal, but there’s so much else to tell! Seven turkeys and twenty-five pies and cakes were just part of the feast we held with a mixture of folks from regional congregations, our neighborhoods, local recovery groups, and all of our many regulars with whom we have, and continue to develop, mutually beneficial relationships. There were a few faces missing from our meal this year—Miss Betty, Linda, Mr. Oliver—and they were recalled with fond thoughts and grateful hearts. There were many new faces at our meal this year, as well. It seems that God continues to call folks to join us in building new families in unfamiliar places—we’re thankful to have them. Members of one our partners, Clarksville Baptist in Clarksville, Virginia, even made the hour drive to eat with all of us—with a blessed youth bringing us bags of coats and blankets she had collected for cold folks in Danville. For these (both people and also coats and blankets) we give thanks, as well.

We start this big meal off like we start all of our meals: with the Body and Blood of Jesus. As we pass the loaf and the cup, we proclaim to the world and to ourselves that what binds us and connects us is so much bigger and more powerful than all those things that try to separate us. When we gather around all those tables, we’re one big family getting to know each other better.

When I answer the question of Thanksgiving by talking about this dinner that I’ve grown to love so dearly, usually folks will respond kindly and ask, “Yes, but will you be travelling home?”

Sometimes the answer is, “Yes, we’re going to be headed for a quick trip home.” Other times the answer is, “No, not this year. We’re not going to get a chance.” But the answer always ends with the truest words I can utter around such a question: “But we’re having at least one really big, really wonderful family meal this year. Do you want to come and meet all your brothers and sisters?”

Honestly, we weren’t prepared for that much bread. It had all started when he called me out of the blue and told me that he worked for a bread company and they wanted to know if we could use some of their “day olds” in our Roving Feasts around downtown and the Northside. Mike had heard one of us speak at his congregation’s Wednesday night service and had taken with him some of the written information about what we were up to. When Mike called me a few days later to ask if he could bring his truck by to donate some bread, I thought he meant maybe a dozen loaves in the back of his pickup truck.

So, when I showed up in the parking lot of a downtown church to receive his donation, I was surprised to see Mike leaning against a big box truck with a hydraulic lift on the back. When he rolled up the back of the truck, there were nearly 20 pallets full of loaves of bread that he wanted to donate. We live and serve among lots of hungry people for whom bread becomes something dear in the last week or so of each month. So, we thanked him for his generosity and began taking bread into some of our neighborhoods.

Mike started coming to our meals and worship services shortly after he started flooding our ministries and homes with bread. Since we already had a “Mike” who had been around from the beginning of Grace and Main, we jokingly started calling our new friend “Bread Mike.” The nickname stuck and Bread Mike did, too. Nowadays, you’ll see him just about anywhere Grace and Main gathers whether it’s in a home for worship and prayers or on a street corner for the “roving feast.” Bread Mike has become one of the pillars around which our Wednesday morning breakfast has grown and thrived, becoming not only its bread supplier but also one of its most loyal and dependable leaders.

Several months ago, Bread Mike opened his home to a young man who had been kicked out of his house and had nowhere to take shelter. Unable to watch the young man become homeless, Mike offered the extra bedroom in his home and insisted that the man stay with him. In doing so, Mike’s home became the seventh home connected with Grace and Main to begin offering a kind of radical hospitality. That young man is enrolled at the local community college now and is getting his feet underneath him again. If you asked Mike why, he’d tell you that he does it because Jesus would want him to do it and because he’s learning how to follow Jesus by uniting himself with a community of folks on a similar journey.

A couple of months ago, Mike was helping a couple move to their first secure shelter in quite a long time. He had loaded up his truck with their meager possessions and was eager to get them moved in to their new place. However, when they got there, there had been a change in the lease agreement and the couple could not move in. Once again facing homelessness, the couple didn’t know what to do. Mike barely even hesitated before offering the master bedroom in his own home to the couple “for as long as it takes you to get on your feet.” Shocked by his hospitality, the couple was hesitant at first to accept, but they eventually moved in and began to contribute to the house’s needs.

By the world’s standards, Mike doesn’t have much to offer. He can’t write big checks or move mountains with his influence and power. No senators, princes, or CEOs call him to ask for his input. He is, after all, just one man living on a meager salary in a depressed neighborhood and city. But, Mike isn’t content to let the world tell him how generous he can be—he has been called by our Lord Jesus to give of himself and to spread the fragrance of Christ about him wherever he goes. He’s not gaining the esteem of the world, but he is changing it—one person at a time.

Mike will try tell you that he’s learning how to follow Jesus by spending time with our little community, but the truth is: he’s as much a teacher as he is a student. It’s our privilege to live and serve alongside Mike and to be challenged by the way he lives to give more, sacrifice more, and live even more hospitably in a world that is being changed by love like his.

Joshua and Jessica have been getting used to being new parents to their daughter, Lucia Marie Therese Hearne. Since Josh enjoys doing most of the writing for this newsletter, we thought we’d give him a break and just reprint a previous story that ran in June of 2012 when there were far fewer readers. So, you may have read this one before, but it’s still a great story and worth rereading. If you’ve not read it, then it’s “new to you.” Please keep Josh and Jessica in your prayers as they continue to transition.


Friends of the Wayfarer

As 2011 faded into 2012, I checked my voicemail to find a voice there that I’d never heard before. It was a man named Patrick whose voice resonated with a hard earned certainty that I wouldn’t actually get back in touch with him. He had just moved south from Massachusetts in eager pursuit of a new life and new opportunities, having left behind his family, friends, and community. When we finally talked, he admitted that it was a complicated story that brought him to a city like Danville where opportunities are often in short supply for those who most desperately need them. He was close to finding somewhere permanent to stay but needed a couple more days to finalize the paperwork. Some of our leaders conferred quickly, keeping to our “no lone rangers” rule and we were able to provide Patrick with a place to stay that wasn’t cold or wet–that night Patrick rested comfortably for the first time in a while.

Soon, Patrick was getting on his feet and had a wonderful (and safe) place to stay. With a little bit of help every now and then, Patrick was starting to get established in our midst. He continued to come to our meals and Bible studies, not because he felt obligated but because he was finding comfort and peace as bread was broken and stories were shared. He soon began worshiping with us on Sunday evening and his gentle and kind spirit was revealed to everybody who met him in our little chapel. Once he had his feet underneath him, he felt comfortable enough to begin to share himself and his talents with us. Patrick is a lover of good coffee and conversation. Patrick is remarkably well-read in theology and ministry as well as science fiction and classic literature. Patrick is a talented artist and quick-witted—even some of his doodles and margin notes seem worthy of a frame. Patrick was quickly becoming an essential piece of our community and its gatherings and we were glad to see the leader emerging in him as he processed through some of the reasons he had left Massachusetts behind.

So, it came as a bittersweet surprise when he let me know that God was directing him to return to the home he had fled and to find the grace hidden there in relationships he had assumed dead. So, we helped him pack up with tearful eyes and a big Mexican lunch before praying for him as he left aboard the early-morning north-traveling train out of Danville. Patrick is back in Massachusetts now after having found his reason for being there in a little city in Southside Virginia where opportunities may be hard to find, but more and more grace is being uncovered every day. His note to us once he made it back was: “[I am] thankful for the experiences down in Danville. Eyes were definitely opened much wider down there. Big thanks to the Grace and Main missionaries who deserve all my love and gratitude. The love they show the homeless, jobless, and addicted is an amazing testimony to the power of love over the suffering plaguing society today. May God bless you even more.”

Patrick was only with us for a little while. Some might look at this as a little thing or as a missed opportunity, but at Grace and Main Fellowship we know that sometimes we are called to be a temporary home for brothers and sisters bound for some other place or community. When God brings such a person in our lives, we rejoice with, mourn with, and love them as best as we know how for the time that God has placed in our lives. Not everybody stays forever and that’s okay.

May God bless you Patrick, our wayfaring stranger from the north. You were a blessing to our community and remain in our prayers.

The artwork included in this newsletter was done by Patrick and hangs on the walls of Josh and Jessica’s home along with some of the other pieces Patrick made while he was with us. If you’d like to commission him to do work for you or your organization, please contact Josh and he’ll be glad to connect you with Patrick.

We’re excited to announce that Joshua and Jessica just had their first child–a daughter they named Lucia Marie Therese Hearne. Marie is a family name on Josh’s side of the family, Therese is Jessica’s mother’s name, and Lucia is the name of a particularly brave young woman who gave away most of her possessions to the poor in the early 4th century and who was martyred by Rome.

Lucy Hearne was born on September 1, 2013, at 6:19 p.m.. She weighed 6 lbs and 11 ounces and was 20 inches long. Jessica is resting comfortably and Josh is unable to stop smiling and is currently trying to teach little Lucy the words to the University of Kentucky fight song. Pangur Ban (Josh and Jessica’s cat) could not be reached for comment.

The most recent edition of Third Chances, a newsletter about ministry in Danville, Virginia, is available at: http://eepurl.com/C4mRT

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Linda was one of us and she is most certainly missed not only in our hearts and minds, but also in our daily work and gatherings. When we gather at the home where she lived to put together breakfasts, it’s impossible to forget that a big part of the reason we do this is because she did it first. Linda and another brother, Robert, loved the meals that Grace and Main provides through the Roving Feast a few times every week. What they really loved about them wasn’t the menu, but the opportunities to meet and love the people in the neighborhood. She and Robert already lived there, along with Bruce (the missionary in that section of town, whom Third Chance Ministries supports) and the owner of the home, a particularly lovely and hospitable lady we’ll call Julia. They saw grace multiplied in a place of profound need and denied hope and it broke their hearts. So, they started a breakfast that grew from 8 to 50 over several months. Linda dipped into her own pocket on many occasions to buy eggs, sausage, bacon, pancake batter, butter, and all the other staples of a good southern breakfast. She had little to offer financially, but she gave it freely and graciously. Together, this little household offered hospitality, food, and love to those who gathered around the coffee pot on their front lawn.

On the morning that Linda was struck and killed by a car in a nearby neighborhood, she spent time in another one of her passions—the idyllic garden planted in their backyard. It seems that the watermelons needed tending if they were going to make it. It doesn’t take much to grow watermelons—some seeds, some dirt, and a whole bunch of water and sunlight. You don’t have to tell the vines where to go or stretch them so they’ll make it far enough—the watermelons seem to know what they’re doing. One day, you’ll go to your garden and find fruit in the place where once there were only vines. Those plants will have taken the dirt, water, and sunlight and made them into a fruit sweet and juicy enough to make your chin sticky.

As a Christian community that counts Linda as one of our sisters alongside whom we’ve worked, struggled, and lived, we intone to ourselves in our prayers that Linda now rests with Christ in God. Yet, we also know that Linda was like one of her watermelon vines planted in a place of need and justice deferred. In that place, she grew day by day and gave forth a harvest of love and compassion that taught us all how better to follow in the footsteps of Jesus, who taught us that all of the law and the prophets hang on the command to love God and love our neighbor. We don’t have to build a monument to our sister, Linda, because she built one to love with her life. Consumed by compassion for her brothers and sisters on the Northside, she cultivated life one bowl of grits at a time. When we walk the streets of the Northside, we find that we’re walking in Linda’s garden and seeing the fruits of her faithfulness and love.

For all good gifts, we give thanks. We give thanks for breakfasts and coffee, and for gardens and watermelons. We give thanks for new leaders who have stepped into the shoes left behind by our sister, so that the breakfast can continue. We give thanks for the hospitality of Julia, who invited Linda into her home. We give thanks for Robert and his involvement in the breakfast in those early days. We give thanks for Mike, whose generosity provides bread to the hungry and who was drawn by the Spirit to the fledgling breakfast as a leader. We give thanks for Bruce and his continued leadership and faithfulness on the Northside, even raising up new leaders in our midst. We give thanks for Linda’s family who welcomed us to her funeral service and gave us Linda in the first place. We give thanks for Linda, whose love continues to cultivate fruit—even when we’re not looking.

In the meantime, we’ll keep tending Linda’s garden.

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