𝐀 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡, 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚

There are those who simply pass through this world, and then there are those who leave it better anchored than they found it. Haynes Brown building contractor, devout Seventh-day Adventist and beloved community leader from Liberta was unmistakably the latter. This week, as news of his journey to the great beyond settles over St. Paul’s, we find ourselves both heavy with loss and strangely lifted, because to have known Haynes was to believe that heaven must be getting a few new benches, a well-sung hymn and a laugh that could shake the rafters.

Haynes was, above all else, deeply spiritual. His faith wasn’t a Sunday ornament but the very blueprint of his life. As a lifelong SDA, he walked with a quiet conviction that turned ordinary moments into acts of worship. Whether he was hammering a nail or offering counsel under the shade of a mango tree, you could feel the presence of a man who knew exactly where his true foundation lay. He spoke of the Sabbath not as a rule but as a gift and he lived every other day as though preparing a place for others to rest.

But don’t let the reverence fool you. Haynes Brown had a humor as dry as July dust and as warm as fresh bread. He could defuse tension in a church meeting with a single raised eyebrow or a half-whispered aside. Young people who came to him nervous about their futures would leave wiping tears of laughter from their eyes, their burdens somehow lighter. He understood that joy and holiness are not enemies but partners, and he waltzed with both.

Long before “entrepreneurship” became a buzzword or a university certificate, Haynes and his older brothers did something quietly revolutionary: they formed Brown Brothers Construction. In an era when most local tradesmen worked alone or in loose partnerships, the Browns bet on family, skill and integrity. Together, they built not just houses and civic structures but a reputation for honesty that became the currency of Liberta. Haynes was the steady hand the brother who showed up before sunrise, who never cut corners, who believed that a straight wall and a square deal were acts of worship. Decades later, that company still stands as a monument to their vision: three village boys who dared to build and built to last.

Yet for all his business acumen, Haynes never measured his worth in concrete and lumber. He measured it in people. The wider St. Paul’s community now extends its deepest condolences to his family especially to his children, grandchildren and the surviving Brown siblings. We say thank you. Thank you for lending him to our fundraisers, our youth rallies, our church repair projects and our countless village meetings. He mentored young men and women who had no father figure, teaching them that a career could be a calling and that leadership was about lifting others. He supported school sports, donated supplies to the youth arm of the church and never turned down a request to speak at a career day or a graduation. Haynes believed that every child carried a blueprint worth investing in.

And oh, could that man sing. Whether it was a bass line rising from the back pew during “What a Friend We Have in Jesus” or a spontaneous chorus on a job site, Haynes’s voice was an instrument of both skill and soul. He was also an orator of rare gift, never bombastic, always measured, with a cadence that made you lean in. When Haynes Brown stood to speak, people listened. He could weave scripture, common sense and a touch of mischief into a message that stayed with you for years.

Perhaps his quietest love was for nature. He would walk the back roads of Liberta at dawn, naming trees and birds like old friends. He believed that the same God who drew up the stars also drew up the hills around our village and that tending the land was holy work. His garden was a meditation; his admiration for a sunset, a sermon.

Now Haynes has passed to the great beyond. But if we listen closely, we can still hear him in the song of the bananaquit, in the laughter echoing from a church picnic, in the steady tap of a hammer building someone’s dream home. Rest well, Builder. Your work here is done. And in Liberta, in St. Paul’s and in every heart you touched, your foundation holds strong.

On behalf of the St. Paul’s community, with deepest gratitude and love.