By Joshua Hearne

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—called Ash Wednesday.

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 most interesting.

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.

As the service came to an end, a local minister implored us to remember the many folks in Danville who were hungry—something that was all too easy for our little band of leaders. After all, our community and its leadership is made up of the housed and the homeless, the relatively wealthy and the poor, those with adequate social resources and those without any bridges left to burn.

As an intentional Christian community (called Grace and Main Fellowship), we are committed to living in areas of profound need and practicing radical hospitality in our homes and at our dinner tables. Instead of coming up with solutions that we think will work, we want to live in the areas of need, build relationships with those already there, and develop new leaders to work alongside us and guide us in serving our brothers and sisters in the neighborhood.

In short, we’ve made our homes in the neglected places because God is a fan of deserts and wildernesses and moves powerfully among those with the least to offer.

So when the minister said to us, “Maybe none of us here has ever been hungry,” my eyes flew to a number of our folks who have known hunger all too well—who have once felt its desperate grip and struggled to find not just their daily bread, but their barest sustenance as well.

They know now that they’re welcome at any of our tables any day, but hunger is not quickly forgotten. They gave me a sheepish grin and shrugged their shoulders, as if to say, “Well…some of us have.”

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 us. 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—whether personally or in the faces and lives of those whom we love and share our daily lives with— 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 in the desert.

Joshua Hearne and his wife, Jessica, serve as Cooperative Baptist Fellowship field personnel. If you’d like to receive Josh and Jessica’s monthly newsletter with a story like this one, you can subscribe at http://eepurl.com/j3EuP. If you’d like to read stories from previous editions, you can find them at www.thirdchanceministries.com.

If you’d like to visit the website of their intentional, Christian community of hospitality and service in Southside Virginia (Grace and Main Fellowship), you can find it at www.graceandmain.org. Finally, if you have any questions or thoughts for Joshua (such as what you thought about this story, how you can help support the work they’re doing, or when he might be available to come speak to your group or congregation), please email him at hearne.joshua@gmail.com, he really does love receiving email and sharing these stories with anybody and everybody.