Conversations on a Bench: Stories of Hope and Connection

There's something profoundly sacred about simply sitting down and listening. On October 9th and 10th, I had the incredible privilege of hosting "Conversations on a Bench" right here in our community, and I'm still processing the depth of what I experienced. Almost 50 unique individuals showed up to engage in conversation and share stories. Each conversation was a reminder that every person we pass on the street carries a unique set of experiences, dreams, struggles, and hope.

Before I dive into what this experience meant to me, I need to express my deepest gratitude to Brooksville Methodist Church for graciously allowing us to use their space for these conversations. Their generosity in opening their doors to this initiative made everything possible. In a world where it's easy to keep our doors locked and our circles small, Brooksville Methodist demonstrated what it truly means to be a community anchor. Thank you for believing in the power of conversation and for providing a welcoming space where strangers could become neighbors.

The Power of a Simple Bench

The concept was simple: set up a bench, invite anyone to sit down, and just talk. No agenda, no judgment, and no strings attached. Just human beings sharing stories. What I discovered was that people are hungry for this kind of genuine connection. In our age of constant digital communication, there's an aching need for face-to-face conversation where someone actually listens without checking their phone or planning their next response.

Nearly 50 people took me up on the invitation. Some conversations lasted longer than others. I spoke with residents sharing their journeys with homelessness, addiction and mental health struggles. I spoke with other community leaders working hard to combat the issues of homelessness or related issues. I spoke with county officials sharing their plans. I even spoke with people who are still homeless battling the challenges currently. Each conversation was a window into another person's world that I would never have glimpsed otherwise.

A Conversation That Changed Me

One guest’s story stands out with particular clarity and joy. His name is Eric, and two years ago, he was sleeping homeless on the very ground where we sat and talked. Two years. Think about that. The same patch of earth that once served as his bed during the darkest chapter of his life became the place where we shared laughter, stories, and hope.

Eric's transformation is nothing short of remarkable. He spoke openly about his journey, including the despair, the daily struggle, the moment he decided things had to change, and the grueling work of rebuilding his life from nothing.

What struck me most wasn't just his story of overcoming homelessness, though that alone is inspiring. It was his willingness to return to that same spot, to sit on a bench and engage in conversation without shame or bitterness. Eric didn't have to stop and talk with me. He could have driven past, wanting to forget that painful chapter. Instead, he chose connection. He chose to share his story as a testimony that change is possible, that rock bottom doesn't have to be the end.

Talking with Eric reminded me why we do what we do at Jericho Road Ministries. It's not just about providing services or running programs. It's about seeing people in their full humanity. It's about believing that every person has inherent worth and potential, regardless of their current circumstances. Eric is living proof that with the right support, genuine care, and a community that refuses to give up, transformation is possible.

Eric’s story is remarkable too, because not only is he not homeless now, he is a business owner employing three men from Jericho’s REbuilt recovery program, the very place he graduated from nearly a year ago.

What I Learned on the Bench

These conversations taught me lessons I couldn't have learned any other way. Everyone has a story worth hearing. Sometimes the most powerful thing we can offer isn't advice or solutions, but simply our presence and attention. I learned that our community is filled with people who are kind, resilient, thoughtful, and deeply human in ways that statistics and demographics can never capture.

An Invitation to You

As I reflect on this experience, I'm convinced more than ever that we need more benches—literal and metaphorical—in our communities. We need more spaces where people can simply be human together. We need more Erics who are brave enough to share their stories. We need more churches like Brooksville Methodist who open their spaces for connection.

And we need more people willing to sit down, quiet themselves, and listen.

Thank you to everyone who sat on the bench with me. You changed me more than you know. 

Here's to many more conversations on a bench.