Some gyms paint slogans like “No pain, no gain” on the walls. Some boast of being “judgement-free zones.” At Christ Fit Gym off of Chinaberry Lane in Bossier City, the message is a bit more complex:

“For bodily exercise profits little, but godliness is profitable for all things, having promise of the life that now is and of that which is to come.” — 1 Timothy 4:8

That’s because Christ Fit is not just a gym. It’s the foundation of one family’s mission.
“I want to tell as many people about Jesus as I possibly can, and I want to make a difference in our community,” said owner Billy Weatherall. “That’s certainly what this gym has done. And it starts with me. It’s been a big differencein my life, in my family’s life.”

Weatherall has long been into physical fitness. Folks used to come to his garage to work out, but he also admits to partying and drinking back then, too. 

Then it all changed.

“I got saved in 2006 after the military,” he said. “I came home from three deployments and was really broken. I gave my life to the Lord. I told the Lord the day of my salvation, ‘I am going to be completely committed to you. I don’t know what that looks like. I don’t know much about You. But if You just give me purpose, I’ll do whatever you want.’” 

At that time, Weatherall continued to welcome people into his garage to work out. But that’s where the similarities stopped.

“We went from partying and drinking, then after I got saved, we started doing Bible devotions,” he said. “I was like, ‘Guys, this is going to be a little bit weird.’ They said, ‘Bill, this is weird, but you come here, and we like it. You let us work out for free.’ And people started coming.”

And people kept coming. In fact, Weatherall said so many people came that they outgrew the garage at his home. That’s when God came back to him about that commitment Weatherall made in 2006.

“Life was just so good,” he said. “We were doing well. (My wife) was a full-time nurse. I was back in the reserves as a drill sergeant, in oil and gas, back in school doing very good. Then, in 2011, God hit me up on that promise. He wanted me to leave everything and start a gym.”

Christ Fit Gym is open at 5:30 a.m. Monday through Friday. It offers a variety of free classes throughout the day. Each class begins with a devotion that lasts about 15 minutes. The gym also has an array of machines and free weights available for those who want to work out at their own pace.
“We just want people to come up here and get involved,” he said. “It’s my job to make sure this environment stays Christ-like. A lot of people who don’t go to church want to come here and work out. They sit through the devotions because they respect a free gym, and 100 percent of the time, they’re always asking me questions afterwards. It’s always a unique thing that they get genuine, authentic Christianity up here.”

And every bit of it is free. Christ Fit does not operate on membership dues. It is a donations-only operation.

“You can come here 1,000 times and never give a dime,” Weatherall said. “Pastors were saying, ‘Bill, this is not a good idea. You don’t have any funding.’ But when I went to sleep, God was driving me crazy. He was making my life miserable because He was telling me to go, and I was saying no.”

Weatherall said God made it impossible to do anything but commit to the vision. 

“We’re gonna keep on doing this no matter what,” he said. “Until Jesus comes back or the money runs out, we’re going to fight tooth and nail to see that this place survives and continues to be a lighthouse in this community.”

Christ Fit Gym is a mission not just for Billy, but his entire family. 

Billy’s wife, Julie Weatherall, was a labor and delivery nurse for 12 years before she left that job to join the business full time. 

“I remember the day Billy called me about opening a gym, and how much we were going to charge,” she said. “Then I was at work one day, and he called me and was like, ‘This is going to sound crazy, but God has laid it on my heart that we need to do donations only.’ I just sat there for a second, thinking, ‘How’s that going to work? But OK, let’s roll with it.’ 

“We have ups and downs and all arounds, but all in all, it’s been a huge blessing. To see the growth from one room where you could fit 10 people to where we are at now, it’s really awesome.”

Julie started keeping the books for Christ Fit in her spare time while she continued working as a nurse. But as the business grew, Billy thought it would be a good idea to add a smoothie store to the gym five years ago.

“That sounds crazy,” she remembers saying. “I prayed about it and prayed about it, and I was like, ‘OK, I’ll just go part time. I’ll still keep my job, still keep my insurance. So I started kind of part time, and it was so much I ended up just quitting my nursing job.”

Billy’s sister, Jodi Johnston, recalls how she got involved in the early days.

“I remember when he told me, I said, ‘If the bank will give you a loan for $50,000 and you’ve been unemployed for a year, and she’s a full-time nurse, well, I guess it’s God’s plan.’” And the first bank he went to did give him that loan.

Johnston recalls one night in that first year when her brother called her, distressed by the fact that no one was donating to the gym and the rent was due. That’s when she threw out an idea. 

“I’ve always been a huge garage sale person,” she said. “I told him, ‘Have a garage sale. People that know what you’re doing, and the kids that have come there, they love you. Nobody wants to see this fail.’”

It’s a bright, brisk Wednesday morning in the Cumberland neighborhood in Bossier City. The tranquility is pierced by dogs barking, playfully scuffling to determine the alpha in their backyard domain. From down the street comes the muffled sounds of hoes, shovels and conversation as folks tend a community garden.

At the corner of East Third and Thompson streets stands a modest brick building. A faded metal sign on the wall marks where a pay phone stood long ago. An ice merchandiser hums by the front door. Signs and flyers plaster the windows — one promoting a local ministry, one curled up piece of paper seeking information about a missing person, stickers selling cigars, lottery tickets and ICEEs, neon Bud Light signs. An American flag dangles from the awning, waving in the cool gentle breeze.   

Some folks drive by slowly, making eye contact with others who mingle on the sidewalk. They just shrug their shoulders and say, “Nah, they ain’t open yet.” The drivers pull away. They will return to check again later. In the meantime, the pedestrians pace anxiously and grumble, “He’s late.”

He is Vince Maggio. And as the sign on the front of the store proclaims, his family has run Maggio Grocery & Deli at 401 Thompson St. since 1923.

Keith Thompson walks across the street to unlock and open the gate that blocks the driveway next to the store. Soon, Maggio turns his pickup into the driveway and disappears behind the building. Moments later, the fluorescent lights inside flicker to life, and Thompson pulls back the bars and unlocks the front door. Maggio’s is open for business. 

After catching his breath, he explains he ran late this day because he was at home caring for his mother-in-law, Josephine Peters. Maggio won’t even consider any other option for her, even if it makes him late for work. He doesn’t believe in nursing homes, he says.

Inside the store, Maggio utilizes every square inch of space he can. The narrow aisles are lined with shelves stacked with everything from car fuses and fishing hooks to canned chili and snack cakes. The deli is in the back of the store. Thompson is slicing meat and cheese for customers, as well as fixing chili cheese hot dogs and nachos. It’s a one-stop shop in a neighborhood where options do not abound.

Maggio seems to just know what to keep in stock. He should. Like many of his customers, he grew up within walking distance of the store his father and grandfather owned before him — just one block north on Montgomery Street. As a boy, he delivered groceries in the neighborhood on his bicycle.

“I was brought up right here,” he said. “This is my home. I was born at old Schumpert Hospital in Shreveport, brought here and have been here ever since.”

The Maggio family’s roots already ran deep in the Cumberland neighborhood. Vince’s grandfather, Sam Maggio, opened the original store 100 years ago, next door to its current location. Running the store has been a team effort for this close-knit Italian family from the earliest days. That included Vince’s mother, who was a nurse at Bossier Hospital.

“Aunt Grace, Daddy, Uncle Joe, and Momma helped part-time running the store,” Vince recalls. “And Grandma was in here. Grandma died in ’79. Grandpa died in ’71.”

Maggio walks through the store recalling the history — so much he hopes he can remember it all. A photo of the original store hangs over the door to the cooler, which used to be a kitchen. Photos of four generations of the Maggio family hang behind the cash register.

“Grandpa came here and read the Bible, inside and out,” Maggio said. “Every Saturday, right here, with the First Baptist Church preacher, my grandpa would help him write the sermons.”

That faith has been passed down in the Maggio family with the store.

“Jesus is first,” Maggio explained. “Then second, you have your country — USA. Then you have your family.”

That faith also sustained the family when Vince’s daughter, Melissa Maggio, died in a car wreck in 2011.

“She was on her way to church to meet me and her momma,” he said. “I had just talked to her. She got killed in a car wreck on Benton Road. She was 24. That really aged me right there. I was in church, praying on my knees, when they came and touched me and took me to LSU. You can have everything you want, then when a life is gone, you don’t have anything. Only thing you’re going to leave with is your heart and your good name.” 

Vince’s wife, Sharon Peters Maggio, is his full partner in the store, as she is in life. It’s a union that seems more destined than determined.

“They had the oldest store in Bossier, too,” Vince said of his in-laws. “The older Mr. Peters and my grandfather played in Italy together. Mr. Peters and my grandfather were on the same boat from Italy. A week later, they saw each other — didn’t know they were on the same boat. They hugged each other and cried.”

They fought in the Army together before both landing in Bossier City, where both opened a grocery store.

Vince went to Airline High School. Sharon went to Bossier High. They met one night at McDonald’s. 

“It was about 9:30,” Vince said as he recalled that night. “I had to be home by 11. That was my limit. My daddy was strict on us.”

Vince’s friend Pete Glorioso knew Sharon’s father and helped broker the introduction.

“I went to see Mr. Peters before I ever talked to Sharon,” Vince said. “The old Italian way. I talked to her momma and daddy. They were so sweet to me. I didn’t know her daddy and my daddy went to school together.”

They hit it off that night, and 41 years later, they are still together and still running the family business.