this article

Providence Home, where Jesus makes all things
C
huck Long flipped
the glass crack pipe,
poked the charred
chore boy to the other end,
and took his last blast of sticky
crack resin. Forty pounds
underweight, hollow-cheeked,
toothless, and broke, Chuck’s
baggy, soiled clothes threatened to swallow him. He’d
made a phone call two days
earlier, one that would change
his life, but the waiting made
him antsy.
In a lot of ways his last high
was the final low in a nine-year
tumble down the steep slope
of the valley of the shadow of
death. Since 2005, Chuck had
drifted from tents to crack
houses to abandoned buildings. He hid a cardboard box
in the woods and covered it
with a tarp—a makeshift den
to smoke in solitude. Occasionally he would surface for
A Changed Life
meals. Staple fare was crushed
Ramen noodles in a plastic bag
run under tap water from a gas
station restroom. Adding diced
ham from a can was a treat.
“I’ve told every lie I could
tell,” Chuck, now 53, says,
scratching his gray goatee. “I
lost all interest in myself and
my family.” His searching blue
eyes moisten when he confesses, “I hadn’t seen my daughter
in six years. And she doesn’t
remember me before that.”
Chuck’s life-changing call was
to Providence Home. Nestled
near the corner of North Main
and Sunset, Providence Home
has been quietly restoring the
humanity of marginalized men
for 50 years. The transformations are staggering.
Executive Director Rob Settle,
a former pastor and a Ben Lip-
new
pen administrator and teacher,
describes the place as a nonprofit resident Christian ministry for men, often veterans,
struggling with psychological
problems, homelessness, or
substance abuse.
“We believe that a personal
relationship with Jesus Christ
is the primary solution to heal
those painful dislocations that
are a result of sinful separation
from God,” Rob stresses. “Our
desire is introduce Christ as
the primary foundation of their
lives. This will not only anchor
their unstable situations, but
will also give them joy, peace,
and, most importantly, eternal
life.”
John Zenoni founded Providence Home in 1963. As a
recent convert and recovering
alcoholic himself, John wanted
to provide a loving, stable
September 2015
By David Gentino
David Gentino is the pastor
of Columbia Presbyterian Church,
a new church that meets Sundays
on Main Street in the Tapp’s Art
Center (columbiapresbyterianchurch.com). David, his wife
Julie, and their four children
live in downtown Columbia.
9
atmosphere for others to meet
Jesus and overcome addiction.
John paid to provide room
and board for eight alcoholics, and Providence was born.
Its mission crystallized: “To
help stabilize the living conditions of dislocated men and to
encourage progress in realizing
their full personal potential in
self-sufficient living through
the power of Jesus Christ.”
Many days
look more
like mustard
seeds than
great
ministry
deeds, but
such is the
kingdom
of heaven.
Today several structures on the
property house fifty beds, an
updated kitchen, offices, and
a chapel. Incoming men are
interviewed, placed in a twoman bedroom, fed three square
meals a day, matched with a
mentor, and required to attend chapel every evening. “It’s
really not complicated,” Chairman of the Board Bill Cogdill
of Cogdill Carpets remarks.
By providing stability, counseling, job training, and teaching
from God’s Word, men begin to
thrive.
disorder left a wake of wreckage in his life and the lives of
those around him. “My life was
shattered. I was merely existing,” George shares, crossing brawny, crudely tattooed
forearms. “I was homicidal and
suicidal. I just didn’t care.”
from which he distributed to
those in need. His disciples followed suit, urging each other
to remember the poor, bear
each other’s burdens inside and
outside the church, and foster
a pure and undefiled religion of
generosity.
George came to Providence
Home in September. He immediately felt at ease among
people without pretense.
After working through months
of therapy, connecting with
other men, and joining a gym,
George looks like a new person. “I’m experiencing a new
me,” he chuckles, twisting a
bracelet on his wrist. It reads,
A Child of God.
Financial support, prayer, and
labor for Providence comes
from several different avenues—businesses, the Veterans Association, churches, and
individuals. Volunteers and
church groups provide everything the ministry needs. They
befriend and mentor the men,
cook and serve meals, and
teach the Bible in chapel. The
city’s response has been enthu-
Providence
Home
operates
on the
premise
that it
takes
the whole
The proof is in the produce,
commuso to speak, and spiritual fruit
nity to lift
abounds. Resident George
its lowest
Richardson is part of the harmembers.
vest. “I was just trying to find a The Law,
refuge,” George explains in his the Prophsingsong Gullah accent. Seeets, and the
ing him sitting under a balmy,
Psalms all take keen interest
South Carolina spring sky in a
to God’s kind attention for the
buttoned dress shirt and slacks least of these. From instrucand listening to him use a votions on what to leave behind in
cabulary as wide as the horizon, the harvest to what to take as a
it’s hard to get a handle on the
pledge from the poor, everyone
dire state of George’s former
in the community played a part
life.
in alleviating poverty.
Bitterness, violence, substance Ever a student of his Father’s
abuse, and post-traumatic stress Word, Jesus kept a moneybag
10
September 2015
siastic, but many more hands
are needed.
Not every Providence story
has born its happy ending, yet.
There are relapses. There are
hardened hearts and broken
promises. Many days look more
like mustard seeds than great
ministry deeds, but such is the
kingdom of heaven.
A Changed Life
Chuck is just one of the sprouting seeds on campus. After
a year and some change, Chuck has graduated from client
to staff, processing newly arrived men. He hasn’t touched a
drug or a drop of alcohol. “My heart is soft now,” he says. “I’m
always hungry to learn more about God.”
Just a few months ago, a miracle happened—Chuck saw his
daughter for the first time in six years. “She’s beautiful, he
says, his voice thick with emotion. “She’s 14, athletic, shy.
And she’s just beautiful.”
The
The
Dermatology
Dermatology Group
Group
Dina V. Grice, M.D.
Dina V. Grice, M.D.
Lee T. Jordan, M.D.
Lee T. Jordan, M.D.
Certified, American Board of Dermatology
Certified, American Board of Dermatology
Diplomate, American Academy of Dermatology
Diplomate, American Academy of Dermatology
1709 Barnwell Street
1709 Barnwell Street
803.254.3376 |
803.254.3376 |
| Columbia, SC 29201
| Columbia, SC 29201
803.254.3883 fax
803.254.3883 fax
Jesus makes all things new. ROC
m
A Changed Life
umbia, SC 29223
September 2015
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