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Lisa Kaczmarczyk Peace Through the Pain. Tragedy took her son. God brought life to her story.
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REMEMBERING RACHEL HELD EVANS
A celebrated NYT best-selling Christian author’s legacy of truth, love, and humility through the eyes of her sister By Amanda Opelt
THE BEAUTY IN SUFFERING
One missionary’s journey with cancer deepens her hope and trust in Christ By Jenny Hoffman
JUST BREATHE
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A mother finds peace after meeting the man who lives because of her son’s lungs By Nikki Roberti
MENDING THE BROKEN PIECES
After a life of abuse, anger, and heartbreak, a man finds restoration through the love of God By Duane Gaylord
WHEN ART & FAITH COLLIDE
What happens when an artist dedicates her life to ministry? By Nikki Roberti
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This magazine is intended to present people’s stories about their personal relationships with God from their point of view. We endeavor to have a diversity of perspectives from people who identify themselves as followers of Christ. However, we cannot personally endorse all that is said, nor can we be held responsible for the total veracity of every story. What we can endorse is that people who share their testimonies have experienced God’s love in real ways, and our encouragement for you, is that you also can experience His love wherever your journey takes you. Cover Photo: Lisa Kaczmarczyk. Victory out of Tragedy. Lisa Kaczmarczyk holds a photo of her deceased son with the first place medal won by the man who now breathes because of his donated lungs. Photo Courtesy of We Are The Hoffmans Photography,
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Journey The
Owner & Publisher
Ben Cox
Nikki Roberti | Art & Design Director Zachary Hoffman Contributing Writers Duane Gaylor | Jenny Hoffman | Amanda Opelt Associate Editor Camryn Whaley | Contributing Photographers We Are The Hoffmans | Tess Orr Social Media & Marketing Director Morgan Westerhoff | Proofreader Kayla Trivett Distribution Manager Connie Cox | Accounts Manager Heather Cotten | Business Development Deck Moser Chief Editor
Online flip-through version available at: JOURNEYNC.COM 828.263.0095 | info@journeync.com 324 HWY 105 Ext. Suite 14 • Boone, NC 28607
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FROM THE
By Ben Cox
I
have a passion for promoting unity among Christians. I cannot stress enough how a personal, transformative relationship with the God who created us is meant to bring us into a brother/sister relationship with other believers—a unity that has the power to transform and change cultures for the better. The magazine you hold in your hands was birthed out of that passion. In this edition, you’ll read transformative stories of triumph through adversity and how God’s love and compassion manifests itself in the darkest of situations. We all need inspiration, hope and courage to live in the world that we do, and that’s what we want our stories to convey to those of us who already believe and to those who are searching for what to believe. One of the reasons we have such a strong sense of
community here in the High Country is because of the Church. When I say church, I mean the big C universal Church made up of followers of Christ from all denominations, non-denominations, big building churches, house churches, meet-whereverwe-can churches and even big C dropouts who need to return to the fold, especially now for the times in which we live. Hebrews 10:23 brings the importance of that into focus with these words: “Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.”
Jesus has a passion for us to be the “light of the world.” He also has a passion for us to be unified. In John 17:20-21 and 23, Jesus said, “I pray…that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they be brought to complete unity to let the world know that you sent me.” So, how are we doing, Jesus? When you and God look down on the Church in the High Country, how’s our unity level? From my perspective, there are things I’m encouraged about, but we can and must do better. Living in Boone, NC for 42 years and being actively involved in the High Country community and the Body of Christ here has afforded me the great privilege to form meaningful relationships with all kinds of wonderful people. Being involved in pastoral ministry for most of those 42 years, I know quite a few in leadership roles within the churches and denominations in which they serve. As I was pondering what to write for this article, two of my “pastor” friends came to mind. One comes from a church that some label as a conservative, evangelical church; the other from what some label as a liberal, liturgical church.
reaction, control-the-narrative ways that sometimes label people of faith as “intolerant, ignorant, racists and bigots.” My friend says as a result, “we’ve either caved, become silent, or angry”. As a result of all of those wrong responses to the cultural malaise afflicting America, my friend went on to say many “are fleeing the church, or organized religion.” He implored those listening to refrain from unkind and ungodly responses to those kinds of attacks which are counterproductive to the cause of Christ. He asked his congregation to post less and pray more, and to treat all humans with love, dignity and respect no matter how much we disagree with their views, politics or behavior. On other occasions, I have spoken directly to my other pastor friend and have also heard her speak publicly, exhorting her parishioners to refrain from expressing their opinions in ungodly, un-Christ Like ways and to treat all humans with love, dignity and respect no matter how much we disagree with their behavior.
“HOWSO,ARE
WE DOING JESUS?
Recently, I attended one of my friend’s meetings where he pointed out that many sociologists have made the observation that major, moral paradigm shifts have taken place in our culture at an alarming rate due to social media’s instant information, instant
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“
Both of these friends of mine are serious about their personal relationship with Jesus Christ and the responsibility they have taken on as undershepherds to Jesus, the Great Shepherd. Both of them respect and teach the Bible as God’s written revelation to humanity and teach it as the word of God for the people of God. And both of them exhort those who gather to hear them teach about how we, as followers of Christ, are to respond to the culture we’re a part of in Christlike, redemptive ways!
Here’s what’s really sad. I personally know and love people from both congregations who disregard this wise advice and still come across as unkind, ungodly and mean-spirited in their social media responses to whatever it is they’re reacting to. Most of them would be completely different and reasonable in a personal, relational context, but online, they become different people. The good news is that the majority of people in both of those congregations aren’t that way at all. The bad news is the ones who are meanspirited won’t or can’t stop reacting to the culture in a wrong spirit, and I believe that grieves the Holy Spirit. Along with many of my fellow Christians, I believe we are a nation that is and has been experiencing the judgement of God for years now, and we might already have passed the point of no return. For my children’s and grandchildren’s sake, I hope I’m wrong about that, but we are at a crucial point in history where we will be needing God and each other like never before. In light of that, here’s a
crucial biblical question found in Psalms 11:3 that we need to be asking: “When the foundations are being destroyed, what can the righteous do?” What helps me answer this question is an old document that a group of local church leaders (not just pastors) in the 1990s drew up together in an effort to promote unity among believers. I believe that was foundational to the unity we still enjoy here in the High Country, but that needs reviving now. The “Statement of Purpose,” the leaders wrote, was to, “come together for prayer and fellowship because we believe that true unity among pastors and churches in this region is one of the keys for the type of spiritual awakening that our area needs.” First, they agreed on a Statement of Faith similar, if not identical, to the ones your own churches post online: agreeing on the three-in-one trinity; that the Bible is God inspired, authoritative, and without error; acknowledging the deity of Jesus Christ from miraculous birth to sinless life and redemptive death and resurrection; and more.
• We purpose to promote Christ and His Word above our particular church or way of doing things. • We purpose to pray for a mighty move of the Holy Spirit to bring revival and spiritual awakening to this religion. • We purpose to practice supportive speech and actions towards one another. • We purpose to lovingly communicate with each other about anything that would hinder our ability to walk in these principles of unity. Almost 30 years later, we find ourselves struggling to hold onto this concept of unity in a culture divided by politics and hiding behind social media. At one point, the local Church here had a desire to come together and be better as a unified front for the cause of Christ. We need that mindset now more than ever before.
Then followed their Principles for Unity: • We purpose to base our unity on the clear absolutes of scriptures, while purposing not to focus on our differences in “disputable matters.” • We purpose to appreciate each other’s “respected interpretations” of scripture.
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THE JOURNEY | Summer 2019
SWEETER
By Nikki Roberti
When putting together this edition of The Journey, it’s amazing watching all the pieces come together in an unintentional theme that was clearly designed by God with all the intention His plan always has. Inside these pages you’ll read the story of a missionary searching for faith amid a cancer diagnosis, a mother whose son died by suicide but finds true peace in watching how God used his death to give another man life through organ donation, a woman facing obstacle after obstacle while pursuing God’s calling on her life to reach people through art, a man receiving redemption after a hard life of abuse, and a tribute to the late New York Times best-selling Christian author Rachel Held Evans written by her grieving sister. At first glance, our team worried this edition was too depressing, too centered on death. But dear readers, God has never been about death. His “theme” has always been on how to conquer it. I pray as you flip through the pages and connect with each testimony, you find great hope and true triumph in God’s miraculous works in all people no matter the difficult circumstances that crossed their paths. This magazine is called The Journey for a reason. As we walk through this life, there will be ups and downs, but as Christ Followers, the one common denominator no matter what denomination you are is in the One who we are following: Jesus, the ultimate conqueror of death. Just like He rose from the grave, He raised us from death too with ultimate forgiveness and grace through salvation in Him alone.
If you are moved as you read and desire to speak with someone, whether for personal prayer or to find out how you, too, can find peace through Jesus Christ, please email our staff at prayer@journeync.com. We are here to pray for you, and we can also refer you to a local pastor or church. As mentioned above, some of these articles deal with very heavy issues, including suicide. If you or someone you know is struggling with thoughts of hurting yourself or suicide, please know you are not alone and there is help available to you. The national Suicide Prevention hotline is just a call away at 1-800-273-8255. I pray this edition speaks to you just as it has spoken to me while putting it together. In the story about the lung transplant, both the mother, Lisa, and the organ recipient, Darryl, cited one of my favorite Bible verses—Romans 8:28—which declares how God works for the good of those who love Him. But a few verses beyond that sum up this entire edition even more. And so I’ll leave you with this: “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written: ‘For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.’ No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” - Romans 8:34-39
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W
hile I knew my sister to be influential, I don’t think I knew the scope of her impact. Messages, testimonies, and remembrances came in from around the world. Using the hashtag #becauseofRHE and #rememberingRHE, people shared how their lives had been changed by her work, how she had given them the courage to come back to faith after wrestling with doubt or rejection from church. She’d provided a safe haven for outcasts of the fundamentalist movement to reconstruct their faith after a season of deconstruction and disillusionment. She’d leaned in and listened to the voices of the voiceless. While many wrote about the importance of including the input and involvement of people in the church’s margins, she invited them to actually share her platform, write on her blog, speak at her conferences, and contribute to her content. Most major news outlets covered her passing. Words like “formidable,” “force to be reckoned with,” and “troublemaker” have all been used to describe her in articles and podcasts since her death. Those words aren’t entirely inaccurate, but those of us who knew her well and read her work for ourselves rather than simply reading her critics, we knew more of her grace, her kindness, and her relentless love. The middle name my parents gave her was Grace, in tribute to our great-grandmother Grace who lived in these hills, on the side of Roan Mountain. My granny Grace was known for her southern cooking and for always having enough food ready for whoever might show up on the front porch that day. There was always room for more at the table, for neighbors, for “cousins” who weren’t really cousins, for visitors from “off the mountain.” This was Rachel’s heart as well. She believed all should be welcome to the table of Christ, into the family of God. “This is what God’s kingdom is like,” she wrote. “A bunch of outcasts and oddballs gathered at a table, not because they are rich or worthy or good, but because they are hungry, because they said yes. And there’s always room for more.” Many have written more eloquently than I ever could about her legacy, the importance of her place in history, how she impacted and forever changed Evangelical culture. But there are a few things that I can add to the conversation, details and particulars about the life of this amazing person that only a sister can know.
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THE JOURNEY | Summer 2019
By Amanda Opelt
I can tell you that sharing her platform and promoting the success of others was a characteristic inherent in her since birth. In high school, when she was a cool senior and I was a lowly freshmen, she’d proudly walk down the hall next to me every morning and say “Hey, come meet my sister; she’s so cool!” I think we all aspire to be the person Rachel saw in us, the person she knew we could be. I can tell you what a hard worker she was, how committed she was to the craft of writing. As a little girl, she’d pour over manuscripts she’d written: short stories, essays, plays we’d perform at Christmas time. She’d edit, and rewrite, and re-imagine until it was perfect. She was well read and always did her homework. She once told us she’d rather people think she didn’t bathe enough than to think she didn’t study enough.
Rachel Held Evans, 37, died unexpectedly due to brain swelling after complications with the flu. She was most known for her New York Times’ best-selling book Searching For Sunday, as well as being an influential Christian blogger and speaker. Photo Courtesy of RachelHeldEvans.com THE JOURNEY | Summer 2019
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I can tell you that she was willing to go toe to toe with anyone on issues that mattered, but she was never petty. She didn’t believe in quibbling over issues that were inconsequential. She never tried to make herself look good by making others look bad. She wasn’t threatened by the success of other authors or speakers. She enjoyed a lively conversation and to see communities of believers thriving in the midst of differences. I can tell you that she was unfazed by her fame. She never thought of herself as a big deal. She lived in a modest home in a modest neighborhood in our small, unassuming little hometown in East, Tennessee. She’d always talk about what an honor and joy it was to do the work. She was
approachable. Unlike other Christian celebrities, there was no pretense with Rachel. She made everyone feel like they were an old friend from high school, like they belonged, like she was privileged to be talking to them. She didn’t have a particular “look.” Her poor Instagram account would languish for months without a post. There was an authenticity to Rachel that was unique and refreshing. After Rachel died, her book appeared on the New York Times best seller list. “She’d be thrilled,” someone put it. “Then she’d go buy the groceries.” I think that’s what made Rachel so special. While other writers were working on their brand or their image, Rachel was working on her content; and she was working on her relationships. She was learning her audience. She was leaning in close to listen to their stories, to be changed by their stories. Truth was her brand. As Beth Moore put it, “in an era of gross hypocrisy, she was alarmingly honest.” A lot of people have asked me how I am coping, how I am navigating this new world in which I don’t have a shared future with my sister. I don’t know how to answer that question. I don’t really know how I am doing. As a career, I’ve taught aid workers how to be resilient in the midst of crisis. I’ve taught them common reactions to trauma and grief. Academically, I am prepared for this. In reality, I am an amateur and barely managing to find my footing most days.
Based on her own spiritual journey from certainty to doubt to faith, Evans challenges you to disentangle your faith from false fundamentals and to trust in a God who is big enough to handle your tough questions
Loving sisters. Amanda Opelt and Rachel Held Evans were each other’s only sibling. Despite being older by three years, Rachel always looked out for Amanda, even in high school. “I think we all aspire to be the person Rachel saw in us, the person she knew we could be,” Amanda said.
There have been times through this whole unbelievable ordeal that God’s presence has been palpable. At other times, He’s felt frighteningly absent. I know people are praying for me, that I will experience the peace that passes all understanding. But I think I’ve learned that the wilderness is a true wasteland, emotionally, mentally, spiritually. It’s desolate enough to lead the Psalmist to ask God “Why have You forsaken me” (Psalm 22)?
On May 4, Rachel Held Evans, a recognized Christian writer, blogger, and speaker died at age 37 from severe brain swelling after being hospitalized for the flu midApril and later experienced sustained seizures, resulting in a medically-induced coma. She left behind a husband and two small children, ages three and 11 months, her parents, and her sister, Amanda Opelt. This is Amanda’s testimony of Rachel’s life and legacy as not just an influential Christian thinker, but as her sister and only sibling.
Embrace a deep look into spiritual exploration and spiritual contemplation when a thoroughly modern woman embarks on a journey to take the Bible’s instructions for womanhood as literally as possible for a year— head coverings and all.
Drawing on the best in recent scholarship and using her wellhoned literary expertise, Evans began a quest to better understand what the Bible is and how it is meant to be read. What she discovered changed her—and it will change you too.
Despite being tired of modern church politics and scandals that seemed too far removed from who Jesus really is, Evans felt drawn to it. Join her journey to understanding Church as she sought to find her place in it.
THE JOURNEY | Summer 2019
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THE JOURNEY | Summer 2019
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Pursuing Peace. During years of health struggles resulting in a cancer diagnosis, missionary Jenny Hoffman learned how to fully turn to Jesus as her place of peace, comfort, and hope.
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THE JOURNEY | Summer 2019
By Jenny Hoffman
N
o one ever wants to hear the words “you have cancer.”
I heard them in January of this year, and it changed my life forever. Through my suffering, God has been doing the tough work of changing my heart. This is my story of how God continues to use my health challenges to deepen my affection for him. I committed my life to Jesus as an 11-year-old, both scared of the so-called age of accountability and intrigued by the faith of my family. I still remember walking the aisle of my home church while “Trust and Obey” was sung in chorus. What I had at that young age was an understanding that I needed to verbalize that I believed in God to be given the prize of heaven. I did not understand the gospel and could not recognize myself as a sinner, in need of grace. I truly met Jesus for the first time in college through my involvement in a campus ministry, where I saw that God was bigger than the walls of a
church building. My love for His word grew, and I committed to living my life for Him. It was in that campus ministry that I met my husband, Zachary. Together, we shared a desire and willingness to serve as missionaries. After spending several years learning Russian and studying missions, we were finally ready to move to Moldova. In 2015, we packed our belongings, shipped them overseas along with our orange Honda Element, and loaded a plane with our three-month-old son in tow. When we arrived, Zachary and I both got sick right away. We weren’t surprised because Moldova is a developing country, and there is always an expected adjustment to the food and the climate. Zachary’s sicknesses came and went, but mine never left. In fact, I had an ailment about 75 percent of the time. Everything from stomach bugs, joint pain, to pneumonia and bronchitis. We changed our diets, used only bottled water, cleaned our fruits and veggies, but nevertheless the illnesses remained. During one particular incident, we were serving at a church camp and I came down with a fever of 105, so
THE JOURNEY | Summer 2019
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we rushed to the hospital. That night was one of the most terrifying nights of my life. I was given random medicines, poked and prodded by people speaking to me in Romanian, while I only kind of sort of knew Russian. I was so sick that I thought I would die there that night. A few months later, we came back to the states for a few weeks. While we were home, my health returned. But when we flew back to Moldova, I just wept. Nothing within me wanted to go back to the place that made me ill. I had spent most of my days there trapped in a high rise apartment with a baby, tied to the bathroom and longing for an escape. I felt that going back there was pointless, that I was of no value to any mission. But in time, God really started giving us life in Moldova. We met the most amazing people, we were fiercely loved, and the community God gave us became one of the most precious gifts we have ever received. I continued to get sick. I began to
realize that even though my circumstances remained the same, that God was in the business of changing my heart. He brought me from a position of hating Moldova to a place of devotion. I saw good in my suffering and saw that life and beauty could happen regardless of how in control I felt of my body. God ultimately led us back to America through much prayer and supplication and with a surprise baby girl growing in my belly. Those who know me are familiar with how I like to refer to myself as a “recovering hypochondriac.� Even as a young child, I remember being terrified of getting sick. I was fearful of catching cancer from others and even afraid of going to the doctor. Just ask my husband the depth of my anxiety over health. It reached the level of sleepless nights and irrational fears. After we moved back home, I did start feeling better. I was relieved that the illnesses were behind me, and I was ready to get on with life. We welcomed a beautiful baby girl into our family, became involved in a brand new church plant, and then lo and behold, I started getting sick again. I was having difficulties regulating my thyroid hormones, which was not really new to me. I was on such a strange medicine regimen that I eventually went to another doctor at the recommendation of a friend. The day I went to the new doctor, she felt a growth on my thyroid. She said that it was probably nothing because these nodules were very common, but recommended I have a scan. When I read the scan, my heart sank. Calcifications, mass, hypervascular. Even in my limited medical knowledge, I knew that those were all characteristics of a cancerous tumor. I had a biopsy, and the surgeon told me I only had about a five percent chance of cancer, so we walked out hopeful. The results
Radiating God’s Goodness. Jenny Hoffman poses for her first photo post-surgery. Many friends all said they could see an angelic glow about her afterward.
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A Reminder in Trust. When Jenny Hoffman was diagnosed with thyroid cancer which required the whole organ to be removed along with some infected lymph nodes in her neck, she clung to Romans 8:28, trusting that God uses all things for good.
came back a week later “suspicious for cancer.” I wasn’t convinced it was accurate, so I requested a genetic biopsy. It came back at 99 percent chance of malignancy. So surgery was scheduled. I had another scan, which showed that the cancer had spread to my lymph nodes and would cause me to have the entire thyroid removed and a central neck dissection to remove lymph nodes. We had people all over the world praying that the growth was not cancer. I even had well-meaning friends and family tell me they felt God telling them that it was not cancer. But it was cancer. We prayed that I would only have part of the thyroid removed. And yet, I had to have all of the thyroid removed. We prayed that the cancer was contained to my thyroid. But, it had spread to the lymph nodes. I felt very defeated. Every single prayer we prayed and believed God could and would answer, He simply said “no.” He shut the door on miraculous healing. He was very clearly leading me down a specific path. It was at this point where I realized
that I was holding onto the hope of the medical system and words and advice of friends and family more than I was relying on God. I could not claim to be trusting God and simultaneously be trying to fix everything myself. My fear was separating me from the work God was doing in my life. I got down on my hands and knees on my bedroom floor and cried out to the Lord to be with me. To help me trust Him. To give me peace. And friends, He answered like never before. From that moment of total surrender, complete loss of self-control, Jesus met me in my despair, my weakness, my sin, my inadequacy and He said, “You can’t, but I CAN.” He reminded me that because of his sacrifice, I already have victory over cancer and death. Cancer and sickness do not have dominion over me, Christ does. Cancer does not define me. Jesus does. I prayed the verses of Psalm 3: 3-4 repeatedly from the moment of my utter abandon to the day I was being wheeled into surgery. “But you, O Lord, are a shield about me, my glory, and the lifter of my head. I cried aloud to the Lord, and he answered me from his holy hill.” Jesus carried me to the operating room, He was there when I awoke, and friends told me my face
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“
Why has God chosen to allow sickness to claim so many years of my life? I will likely never know the full answer on this side of heaven. But I am getting glimpses of it. “We know that God works all things for the good of those who love him” (Romans 8:28), and I have seen nothing but good on this cancer journey. Sure I have some really difficult days and the future looks uncertain at times, but God’s presence is palpable in our lives. He has been answering prayers like never before, and we are surrounded with a community of believers that love and serve us with the hands of Jesus. He has broken down my walls of fear and pride, and in grace, has shown me that He is for me.
“
was radiating God’s goodness. He was there when the surgeon told me it was one of the best surgeries he had ever done. He was there when they told me I didn’t need any additional treatment. He has been carrying me along with such grace, with gentle reminders that He loves me and cares for me. He is here with me even now, as I try to figure out how to adjust to life without a pretty important organ and while I have tests monitoring for cancer’s return.
SUFFERING ALLOWS US TO SEE OUR OWN INADEQUACY AND THAT WE MUST RELY FULLY ON A MORE THAN CAPABLE GOD WHO IS WORTHY TO BE TRUSTED
There is much beauty in suffering. We feel as though we are in step with the heartbeat of God. Suffering shapes you into the character of Christ. Suffering allows us to see our own inadequacy and that we must rely fully on a more than capable God who is worthy to be trusted. Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 1:4 that God “comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.”
Despite the challenge of dealing with cancer, I have been comforted. I have had peace. I have felt God beside me every step of the way. Since walking through these hurdles, a whole new world of ministry has opened up to me. I have felt in step with the Spirit, as he teaches me to encourage those who are suffering. I have a voice of hope to those that are suffering, a voice that understands and can point people to true source of joy despite our circumstances. This is something that I will forever be grateful for.
This Side of Heaven. Jenny Hoffman says she knows she may never get answers while still on earth for why she went through this difficult time, but she’s gotten glimpses through the peace and comfort she experiences through Christ every step of the way.
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Victory out of Tragedy. Lisa Taylor-Kaczmarczyk holds a photo of her deceased son with the first place medal won by the man who now breathes because of his donated lungs. THE JOURNEY | Summer 2019
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Coming full circle. Lisa Taylor-Kaczmarczyk (left) and her husband, Robert (right), stand with Darryl Collins (center) after spending a weekend getting to know each other. Darryl received their son’s lungs in a transplant after he died in 2012. Their meeting was huge stepping stone in Lisa and her family finding peace and closure.
I
t was a meeting six years in the making. Everyone was all smiles, but there was an air of nerves as they both sat at the table, surrounded by family. For Lisa Taylor-Kaczmarczyk, it was her granddaughters right beside her, and for Darryl Collins, it was his wife, Alli. This would be the first time sharing their story together—a story that bound them for life, laced with tears and blood and so much hardship. Though strangers meeting for the first time, in a way, they were part of each other’s family. After all, Darryl had a piece of Lisa’s son inside him. On May 30, 2012, Darryl received a double lung transplant after Lisa’s son, Eric, died by suicide on a mountain path near her house. She said she still remembers that day. Eric had gone for a walk and called her from his cellphone, asking
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His final wish. Lisa Taylor-Kaczmarczyk’s son Eric was a beloved Foscoe firefighter who enjoyed fishing and loved his family. Despite the tragedy surrounding his death, his mother advocated for him to be an organ donor like he had chosen.
Love conquers all. Darryl Collins endures life in the hospital with his fiance, Alli, who was his main caretaker during that time. They later married on the anniversary of his lung transplant.
Just like the packed ICU, Lisa remembers how crowded the old Foscoe Christian Church was the day of his funeral. “When I looked up and out into that church, people were standing in the back of the auditorium. They were back in the halls. I couldn’t even see all the people,” she said. “There was between 400 to 500 packed into a church that held maybe 150.” Eric was a special person loved by all. He was known for his dedication to the fire department. Even his best friend, the fire chief, shared at the funeral how a call would go out, and he’d still be getting his coat on when he’d see Eric drive by. He swore he thought Eric lived in his firefighter uniform. “He loved that fire department,” Lisa said. “He lived and breathed it.” Eric touched a lot of people in his life, but in the wake of his death, he would still continue to impact even more. Darryl Collins was one of those people.
Lisa to promise to take care of his young daughters if anything were to happen to him. She immediately knew something wasn’t right, and when his father, Robert, found him, Eric had shot himself in the head. He was nonresponsive, but still breathing. Eric was 22 and a fireman with the Foscoe Fire Department, so the rescue squad that came to his aid were his friends and colleagues. “It was a very emotional scene,” Lisa said. “All the state troopers, firefighters, dispatchers—all of them were going crazy, because it was one of their own.” A helicopter flew Eric 15 minutes to Johnson City for emergency medical care. Lisa said around 50 people gathered in the ICU to be there for him, refusing to leave even when hospital staff expressed concern about the size of the crowd. But despite medical intervention, Eric was brain dead from his injuries. And the Foscoe community lost one of their own.
Two days after Eric’s death, Darryl, 44, underwent surgery for his new lungs. When he was 24, he had been diagnosed with cystic fibrosis, a terminal illness which greatly affected his ability to breathe. In February, he was put on an oxygen tank, but after falling ill despite always keeping fit as a P.E. teacher and athlete, he was having difficulties bouncing back this time. There’s a lot of uncertainty with lung transplants. Some people die waiting on the list. There was also the need for the lungs to be a size match. While they can shave down lungs to fit smaller people, for a bigger-framed person such as Darryl who was over six feet tall, they’d need a larger set of the organ. Due to the severity of Cystic Fibrosis, he also needed a full set of lungs, but often one lung collapses during the donation process because of the magnitude of the donor’s injuries. And after all that, there is organ rejection to watch for. Only about half of those who undergo a lung
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transplant are still alive after five years, according to Mayo Clinic. Not only was Eric a perfect size match for Darryl, both his lungs survived the medical airlift. This past May, Darryl celebrated his seventh year post surgery with his new set of lungs. “It is not normally likely to have good lung function six years out, but mine is as good as it’s ever been now,” Darryl said. “It’s let me live. Friends of mine have [died] and there’s so many people who die every day from being on the list.” According to the American Transplant Foundation, 20 Americans die each day, waiting for an organ transplant. Almost 114,000 people are waiting for a transplant in the U.S. with a new name being added to the list every 10 minutes. Darryl and his wife, Alli, didn’t know how his donor had died, but they were led to believe it was from a motorcycle accident. When they found out the truth, Darryl was in awe of the strength Eric’s family possessed to make the selfless decision of donating his organs after such a sudden and tragic circumstance. “It’s amazing you let his organs be donated,” Darryl said to Lisa from across the table. “A lot of people at that time…they’re mad at that point—whenever my dad died from his heart attack… I was like no… I don’t want to even think about that.” Lisa said they knew they wanted to fulfill Eric’s desire to be an organ donor. To her, she found comfort knowing a piece of him got to live on in someone else. “It was a tragedy. My son took his life,” Lisa said.
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“But on the other side, at least he made the choice to be a donor where he would save someone else’s life even if he didn’t want to continue his.” Eric’s family was a given a list of all the people he had donated to, however, they were never given any names. They knew a 44-year-old P.E. teacher/basketball coach had received both his lungs, a 55-year-old man studying to be a minister received his heart and kidney, and a 62-year-old retired EMT from the military received his liver. But any communication between either parties had to go through the Tennessee Donor Services and initiated by the organ recipient. Darryl was encouraged to wait at least a year before reaching out in order to give the family space to heal after losing their loved one. So in April 2014, Darryl sent a letter to Eric’s family, expressing gratitude and the desire to meet. Lisa wouldn’t receive the letter for another year, but when she did, she immediately told the liaison organization to release her contact information. However, due to an error, the organization told Darryl the opposite. They said Eric’s family did not want to meet. But he didn’t give up and sent out three more letters hoping to finally get to thank his donor’s family in person. It took four more years after that first letter before the family would finally connect. In the meantime, both families walked through difficult times. For Darryl, recovery was intense. He said he remembered how badly that first breath hurt. His vocal chords were nicked during the transplant, and he had to undergo further surgery. He lived within 10 minutes of Vanderbilt University Medical Center in Nashville, Tenn. for three months and wore a mask constantly to protect the lungs.
For Lisa’s family, the struggle was in making sense of what happened in the wake of their grief. Counselors told her situations like this often “make or a break a family.” Lisa decided she would fight for her family to survive this, but while she wanted to talk about it all, her husband tried to push it away. “I’d walk into a room, and he’d walk out. He didn’t want to talk. He tried to not talk,” she said. “We finally had a knock out drag out about it.” So they made a plan. Every Thursday, she and her husband had weekly “date nights” at the same restaurant to sit and specifically talk about Eric’s death. They’d hash it all out, get angry, cry, and then drive home past the fire station, see the trucks, and cry again—but it’s that kind of communication that saved their marriage. “We were told by counselors a tragedy like this very often will split a family. If it doesn’t split your family, it’ll make you tighter than ever,” she said. “And I think it’s what made our family tighter than ever.” Her faith also carried her through this dark time. “I can’t say I haven’t questioned God…But when Eric made the choice he made, it wasn’t the choice God made,” she said. “I just know that I leaned on [God] a whole lot and prayed for strength and faith, and He has provided strength and faith for our family very much so.” As the years passed, Darryl’s health improved and he grew stronger. He exercised constantly to make sure he’d keep his new lungs healthy. In 2014, he was well enough to participate in the Transplant Games of America, an Olympic style event where organ recipients compete. Since then,
he’s competed in racquetball, volleyball, swimming, running, and bicycling. Most of the participants are kidney guys, Darryl said. Not many participants had lung transplants because often, they’re still not healthy enough for rigorous exercise. But Darryl worked hard to take care of himself, especially now that he was given this new lease on life. “[The doctors] said he was the poster child of lung transplants. The better the shape you are going in, the better results you get coming out,” Alli, 37, said. “The lungs couldn’t have gone to a better person.” Eric’s lungs continued to be strong, and not only could Darryl compete, he won medals. After each event, Darryl watched as his competitors participated in the donor ceremony, honoring those who had given their organs to the athletes. Some living donors were there in person while others held pictures of their deceased donors. Darryl always wanted to honor his, but was still waiting to know anything about him. He didn’t even know his name. But now, he can’t wait for the ceremony during the 2020 Transplant Games in New Jersey. “This will be the first year I can have a picture for my donor ceremony,” he said. “Just knowing the sacrifice [the family] made, having their support—I guess, in a way, that a part of him is still living in me.”
SAY “ I ICAN’T HAVEN’T
QUESTIONED GOD… BUT WHEN ERIC MADE THE CHOICE HE MADE, IT WASN’T THE CHOICE GOD MADE
When Lisa and Darryl finally connected, it’s like all the pieces came together for both families. Lisa said when she heard Darryl speak over the phone for the first time, she couldn’t stop crying. “It wasn’t Eric’s voice, but it’s his lungs… putting that voice out there. He continues to live
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“
He said when the family took turns listening to his lungs, he couldn’t help but shed some tears. “It was just something I always wanted to do. I never thought I’d ever meet my donor family. I had about given up,” he said. “I went through a lot to make it to where I’m at now… [but] the reason I’m here is because of Eric.” When Darryl thinks of everything both families went through, he said Romans 8:28 comes to mind. “And we know that in all things, God works for those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” “I wasn’t thankful to God for Eric dying. But I was thankful that God worked out things for me. Thankful for God that I’m living,” he said. “In all things, God works for good. He worked it out for me through an unfortunate circumstance... God’s in control.” Now that the families have met, they said they’ll still stay in touch and have been at least communicating via Facebook messenger a couple times a week. “Out of a tragedy came a miracle,” Lisa said. “[Meeting Darryl] brought a peace for me that I had not had in six and a half years. I had not been at peace at all. And it brought peace.” Just Breathe. Lisa Taylor-Kaczmarczyk smiles as she listens to her son’s lungs through a stethoscope on Darryl Collins for the first time.
on through these other folks who are alive,” she said. “This is not upsetting. These are tears of joy. You don’t understand the peace that’s come behind it. I don’t know how to describe it.” Darryl pulled out a gift bag from under the table and presented the family with his first gold medal. He wanted them to have it. After all, it would never have been possible if it wasn’t for their selflessness during such a tragic time. Later, both families would leave that table and spend the weekend together, introducing Darryl to more of Eric’s family and celebrating an early Christmas where they’d take turns listening to Eric’s lungs through a stethoscope.
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By Duane Gaylord
Usually, I don’t share my testimony to a media outlet focused on the Christian audience unless I see it has a purpose for God’s kingdom, something other than going to the Christian ‘good-ole-boy’ circuit so they can be entertained and accept me into their society—like “Oh, now I see you in a different light,” type of thing with a pat on the back. I know people often say, “Why not do it? It will uplift them.” I don’t know what that means! You can go and watch a film and be uplifted. More importantly, you can read God’s Word and be enlightened by the Holy Spirit and be lifted up beyond anything I can say. I can elaborate more on my thoughts about “circular” Christian culture, but I will resist. There are too many proclaimed Christians that live in their greenhouse of guarded relationships, recycling their stories amongst themselves for self-motivation to ad nauseam. However, there is a God investment in everyone’s testimony that we should be open to sharing when directed by God to do so. To me, testimonies should be a way to share the Gospel—the Good News of Jesus Christ—to someone who needs to hear it, including someone who is already a Christian. I realize that when God quickens your heart to share what He’s done for you, it can encourage and inspire people in unseen ways. But I never want to come across like I am waving my own flag, and I would like to be able to ensure that if someone reads my testimony and wants to know how to get set free like I was, that a way be provided to help that person. Therefore, I have agreed to share this testimony as long as a way is provided for the reader to have a believer to talk to or pray with after they read it.
I
t’s not like I am anybody of notoriety in this community or any community for that matter. But I do think God can inspire anyone’s testimony. One thing I found when I came to faith in Jesus Christ as my Savior and Lord—the greatest shock that hit me the moment I opened my heart and life to Him—is His great, true, lasting, and deep love for me no matter who I am, where I came from, who liked me or who didn’t like me, or what I did or didn’t do that was right or wrong. I didn’t and still don’t deserve His love, but He gave it to me anyway. The worship song, The Power of Your Love, rang
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deep and true in my heart, starting that day I was ‘born-again.” My path to finding Jesus was not without struggle and pain. But even through the brokenness, I now am able to see how God used certain things and people to bring me to Him. I was born in Hawaii to parents who were both Hawaii born and raised. The big difference I had with other Hawaiians was my father was a military lifer—serving admirably in the US Army for over
Broken down to be built up again. Duane Gaylord faced countless challenges in both his childhood and young adulthood which strained his relationship with God for many years. Now, he and his wife Nora are serving the community and the Lord through their work at Samaritan’s Purse.
28 years before he retired. That meant, unlike most of my relatives who never ventured off of the islands and who grew up within the security of nurturing family relationships, us “military brat” children had to uproot every three or four years and move to another state or country and re-establish relationships, constantly starting all over again. Sounds like a wonderful type of life when you’re an adult, but when you are a child and a teenager, not so fun or easy, and it opens you up to a host of insecurities. To add to that, my father was a brutally abusive, angry man with some of us children. There were five of us and I constantly heard him say, “they should have stopped after two.” He came home from work looking to beat someone up, and I am not talking about discipline. He searched for reasons to demoralize me and other siblings in more ways than I feel free to explain. He was a martial artist and some of his children became his Shaolin Kenpo Karate, Jiu Jitsu dummy. He could brutalize us at any
time of the day—morning, afternoon, at the dinner table, night, weekends, or even while I was sleeping. There were no safe times or places unless we were in public. Even in public, he found a way to make a threat by whispering them into my ear when no one was looking. As soon as we got back home, he never forgot, and he would mercilessly collect his “rain check.” No matter how many times you asked for forgiveness, it seemed to anger him even more and the worse his retribution would get. Most of the time I didn’t know what I was even asking forgiveness for. When something in him hit the boiling point, he exploded with violence. I remember one of my grandmothers in Hawaii was a very godly lady who took care of handicapped children and would pray over them. She recognized the fear I had in me and would put me in her lap and look at my father and say, “You better stop putting your hands on these children—you won’t dare do it in front of me.”
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That usually tamed him for a few days. She passed away before I was nine years old and was no longer there to shelter me. She was the first person to ever talk to me about Jesus Christ. I used to dream about the stories she told me about Jesus. I have to admit, when I was a teenager, I hated my father to the point of murderous thoughts. When I got older, I would lock my bedroom door and then sneak in and out through my windows so I wouldn’t run into him. I learned the only thing that kept him from breaking into my room were my threats to go to the military police. He didn’t want to ruin his long years of admirable military service and his fame of being a “great soldier.” It would only take one abuse claim on the military “blotter” that would go to the base commander and it would sink his ship. So it kept him at bay. I don’t want to speak on behalf of any of my siblings, but his abuse crossed other lines that should have sent him to prison for many years. I never heard the word “love” pass his lips. I had no idea what that was, so I had no idea what I lacked until I was later confronted with having to give love. But I was real familiar with the word “hate.” I used hate to fill the massive hole left by the lack of love. Fighting was a common thing in my house. One of my brothers was my nemesis. His use of drugs, his thievery and the other insidious and perverted things he did angered me to hate him, and we often got into real knock-down, drag-out fights, leaving holes in the wall when we missed a punch, or breaking things if they got in my way from getting my hands on him. He often wore a belt with a knife attached to it, even when he was only in his underwear, to try to fend me off. Most of those big fights happened when our father was away on extended duty in Vietnam or other oversea assignments. My anger even overflowed on any neighborhood teenager who crossed me. If someone said harsh or critical words and they sounded spiteful towards me, I wouldn’t talk. I’d just swing with pent up anger exploding, as if he was the worst enemy on the face of the earth. As angry as I was, it was impossible to lose a fight unless they knocked me out, and no-one did! When I turned 18, I packed my bag and said to my mom, “I am leaving for good” as I passed her walking out of the kitchen door exiting our house.
Her response was, “Good. Get the hell out!” I never blamed her for those words. She lived in hell just like everyone else did. The only reason I could figure why she didn’t divorce the man was it would be a loss of a very good retirement plan for her. She never worked out of the home and depended on my father financially. By my perspective, she was an alcoholic who used booze to cope with my father. When she was drinking, she was at her happiest. I have to say, he never laid a hand on her. Every once in a while, she would stop him before he beat us into a coma. I joined the US Army, married my high school girlfriend, and moved back to Hawaii where my marriage became a battleground of angry emotions. The marriage was doomed from the start, so it seemed. Then one day she told me she was pregnant and lo and behold a little girl, Brandy, was born into our dysfunctional tattered family. I thought, “What a way to restart and reinvent our marriage—through our own little girl.” But it never happened. There was something wrong from the first day Brandy was born. She was having difficulty eating,
A rocky life at home. Duane Gaylord and three of his four siblings in their home state of Hawaii. Having a military father meant the Gaylords constantly had to move around the country, which put even more strain on the family’s already turbulent relationships.
A life-changing heartbreak. Duane Gaylord and his baby daughter, Brandy, who tragically passed away from a birth defect at only six months old.
sleeping and waking up. We thought it was our poor parenting abilities but when she was three months old, we found out, she was born with a very serious internal birth deformity which took her life at six months old. A few weeks after our baby’s death, my wife left me and didn’t look back. My world came to a crashing, screeching halt, and I fell in the ditch of despair. The misery and anger inside of me was eating me inside out. I hated my earthly father, I despised the very family I grew up in, and I hated God for doing all this to me. I was about to explode and needed to take time to pick up the pieces and try to put myself back together. I stayed in Los Angeles where we were stationed at the time for about six more months to try to get myself on stable ground—going to a psychologist and group therapy with other broken and crazed people even worse than I was. All of us were seeking help finding a way out of our misery and seeking answers that would help us face a better future. For fun, I got involved with a weekend LA party circuit of young people, and I also landed a great job working as one of three leasing agents in a large condo complex in Playa Del Rey Beach. Every day when I arrived at my job location, a new employee would give me a crumpled up, torn piece of paper. On it was a handwritten name and two numbers with one or more sentences scribbled under them. She was a Southerner, and I hardly could understand her when she spoke to me, and
“
she also had horrible handwriting, but every time I deciphered what she wrote, the words would break through my hard anger and I would weep in the privacy of my apartment when I got home. Every single note she gave me touched my heart. But the next day, I would wake up angry against God. I found out later that she was giving me Bible verses “the Lord put on her heart.” One night, I went on a blind date with the daughter of one of the ladies I worked with, Sarah. She took me to a play about Jesus Christ, presented in a very large auditorium in her church. She was such a sweet and pretty redhead, and I was very distracted and really didn’t take much of the play in. What really distracted me was the amazing care and warmth everyone had for each other in the auditorium, who were also there to watch the play. I can’t remember how many people came up to her to say hi and also took the time to greet and hug me or warmly shake my hand. I never had that before. I sank down in my seat, feeling so out of place. I didn’t tell her, but I longed for what everyone had and how they were so openly warm and loving to others—I was very moved by it. Later, after I committed my heart and life to Jesus Christ, it became clear that these brief relationships were orchestrated by the hands of God—His own therapy into my brokenness and dysfunction.
IT BECAME CLEAR THAT THESE BRIEF RELATIONSHIPS WERE ORCHESTRATED BY THE HANDS OF GOD
After living in the Los Angeles area for six months, it was time to wrap things up and move back to Hawaii. In actuality, there were many more things that happened to me while living in Los Angeles that were clearly the hands of God, but it would take forever to share them. So I packed up the little I had and went to visit my sister in Sacramento, California before flying to Hawaii to live with my godmother and her family. When I arrived at my sisters home, she already knew what I was going through. She knew about the loss of my child and the end of my marriage. She also knew the past dysfunction of our family because she lived through the horrors of our
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The Love Project Pastor Morris Hatton of Morris Hatton Ministries & High Country Bible Fellowship invites you to consider this 21-Day Challenge
Read aloud twice a day for 21 days; once in the morning and the last thing at night before sleep. If you miss a day, START OVER. This will change your life. Don’t try to “make anything happen,” JUST READ! The word of God has the power to bring itself to pass. 1 Corinthians 13:4-8 (AMPC) Love Endures long and is patient and kind; love never is envious nor boils over with jealousy, is not boastful or vainglorious, does not display Itself haughtily. It is not conceited (arrogant and inflated with pride); It is not rude (unmannerly) and does not act unbecomingly. Love (God’s Love in us) does not insist on its own rights or its own way, for it is not self-seeking; it is not touchy or fretful or resentful; it takes no account of the evil done to it [it pays no attention to a suffered wrong]. It does not rejoice at injustice and unrighteousness, but rejoices when right and truth prevail. Love bears up under anything and everything that comes, is ever ready to believe the best of every person, its hopes are fade-less under all circumstances, and it endures everything [without weakening]. Love never fails [never fade out or becomes obsolete or comes to an end]. As for prophecy (the gift of interpreting the divine will and purpose), it will be fulfilled and pass away; as for tongues, they will be destroyed and cease; as for knowledge. It will pass away [it will lose its value and be superseded by truth]. 1 Corinthians 13:13 and so faith, hope, love abide... of these three; but the greatest of these is love.* Scripture taken from the Amplified Bible, Copyright © 1954, 1958, 1962, 1964, 1965, 1987 by The Lockerman Foundation. Used by permission of Zondervan.
*Agape - Unconditional Love
Hatton, a native of Boone, NC, has been preaching the Word since 1974; after attending The Mennonite Brethren Seminary in Fresno, California. Hatton is the pastor of High Country Bible Fellowship. He is also a talented musician that currently travels throughout the United States and Canada spreading the gospel in song while also teaching the word of God. Every morning at 7 a.m. EST, Reverend Morris Hatton conducts a live-stream through Facebook Live. During this live-stream, Rev. Morris Hatton plays some music on his keyboard and delivers Daily Devotions for at least 30 minutes. “I call it cell phone evangelism,” says Rev. Hatton, “we must use the technology of today to touch the World for Christ. I am speaking to the people who would never have the oppotunity to hear the Gospel preached.” Rev. Morris has been utilizing online-based ministry for 2 years, but has been involved in ministry for over 42 years. To participate in our live-stream, visit us on Facebook at: Morris Hatton or High Country Bible Fellowship. Visit Us At: Morris Hatton Ministries P.O. Box 212 • Boone, NC 28607 MorrisHattonMinistries.org morris.hatton@outlook.com MorrisHattonTV.org HighCountryBibleFellowship.com highcountrybiblestudy@yahoo.com 43
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Pastor Morris Hatton
father as well— having her own burdens to bare. She was happy to see me and told me she had invited a friend, a youth pastor named Fred, to dinner and hoped I didn’t mind. When he came into the house, he immediately struck me as a warm, bright and a happy person. He looked me right in the eyes and greeted me as if I was his lifelong friend. He was exactly like the people I met in the auditorium when I went to see the Jesus play with Sarah. When we sat down for dinner, after friendly and kind chatter, he mentioned his deep sorrow and regret for the loss of my dear sweet little girl. I choked up from genuine sincerity in his voice. Then, he started to tell me a story about a “Father, because of His great love for me, who willingly gave up His Son to death—a Son who was brutally beaten, spitupon, falsely accused, rejected by His own kind and finally put to death…” I interrupted him right there! At that second, Fred the kind youth-pastor, turned into my mortal enemy. Anger gripped my heart and rage started to overcome me. But this time I didn’t swing at him. Instead I blurted, “How could ANY loving Father give up their child to brutality and DEATH!” While I said that, I looked at him like I wanted to pull him apart. But what I saw looking back at me was the same warm, unthreatened eyes that greeted me when he first walked into the house. I didn’t scare him. Unfazed, he continued to share the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God who willingly gave up His life, who shed his blood, who resurrected, who took ALL the penalty of our sins, our rejection of God, our anger against our Heavenly Father, and paid our penalty—God’s judgment of Sin—to reunite us with God’s unconditional LOVE and bring us to a family who will never reject you, harm you or desert you. At that moment, I literally felt a breaking in my inner-self. I tried hard not to, especially at the dinner table, but I broke down in a sea of tears—desperately
needing what he was talking about. These were the words I have always longed to hear, expressed by a person who seemed to really care about me and who portrayed “peace.” Something inside told me his words were real and they were for me. I felt warm hands on my shoulders as my sister, Fred, and my brother-in-law surrounded me. Fred asked me if I wanted to accept Jesus Christ into my life.
I AM STILL “ ON THAT JOURNEY,
“You really desperately need Him, Duane!” he said. My answer: “Yes.”
BUT TODAY ALWAYS LOOKS BETTER THAN YESTERDAY, EVEN WHEN I STUMBLE
I followed his prayer and repeated everything he said as if the words were buried in my heart, waiting all this time to leap out of my mouth. My life did change immediately. The past seemed to be so much farther away from me, and was no longer haunting me everywhere I went. That night, the truth of Love was revealed to me by allowing Jesus Christ to rule my life from that day forward. There was so much more I knew I had to learn and submit to God. I had many more miles to walk to continue God’s work of uprooting the horribly bad seed that was planted by living in circumstances that could have taken me on the path to be a criminal of the worst kind. But God intervened and immediately rescued me and started me on His journey of restoration. God stepped in and became the Father I needed to guide me, forgive me, encourage me and build me. I am still on that journey, but today always looks better than yesterday, even when I stumble. The good news is, Jesus Christ is real and He will constantly show Himself to everyone who will trust Him and He will love you to healing, restoration and freedom. To believers, I hope this will help encourage you to realize that even the smallest acts of kindness to share Jesus Christ can make the biggest difference when used of the Lord. Neither of those involved, the Southern lady who handed me the Bible verses or the date who took me to the Jesus play know that I eventually accepted the Lord... but they will one day.
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By Nikki Roberti
“S
tay Alive.” It’s tattooed on her wrist in Hebrew—a reminder never to quit when the voice of despair had tried to convince Sherri McCready her life’s work was useless a couple years ago. For most artists, creating is like breathing. And while that is true for McCready, her reason to never quit comes from God’s calling on her life. Her mission: to spread His Story throughout the world with community and art. “I never planned or imagined the life that I have now,” she said. “My only dream was to be a wife and mother. The rest has been God calling me and dreams that I believe He has given me.” A recent transplant to Boone, NC, McCready and her family relocated to Boone to start a new church and live in a cooler climate for their daughter who battles Multiple Sclerosis. With the help of two Church planting organizations, Waypoint and Church Planters of the Smokeys, she and her husband, Shannon, planted Mountainside Community Church, which holds Sunday services at Galileo’s on King Street. But now McCready is launching her next passion project for the High Country community—a mission she wholeheartedly believes in.
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She’s starting an art school. Last fall, Mountainside School of Mentoring and Art offered classes such as private guitar lessons, creative writing, beginners crochet, and theater for all ages. Their spring semester promised even more options. The goal, according to McCready, is to offer new opportunities to people at affordable prices and to share love through art. “My family couldn’t afford art or dance lessons for me. I was the kid peering into the window of dance studios wishing,” she said. “It is so helpful to a community when we are willing to pass our skills along to someone else, whether it is life skill stuff or some sort of art. We all benefit from sharing what we have learned.” For McCready, art has always been a part of her ministry. Growing up a pastor’s kid, she struggled throughout her childhood. It wasn’t until she was 16 years old that she developed a true relationship with Jesus Christ and decided to follow Him without looking back. When she was 17, she felt God’s clear calling on her to stand boldly for him when she attended the Youth Congress on Evangelism in Washington, DC. Shortly after, she won the title of Kansas Junior Miss in 1985 and found herself invited to speak to youth groups all over the state where she trained teens on how to start their own studentled Bible studies in public schools. “I am bold only because of my love for Jesus,” she said. “If He hadn’t called me, I feel certain I would be a hobbit who would’ve never left the Shire.” It was through the 20 years of her nation-wide ministry travels that McCready truly saw art thrive for God in action.
A Lifetime of Ministry. For the last 30 years, Sherri McCready has dedicated her life to sharing the Gospel. Now a recent transplant to Boone, she’s starting an art school to serve the community in a tangible way that is close to her heart.
“I found that every message was swallowed easier when it came through the form of art,” she said. “I learned the great power of humor in disarming when we were performing Abstinence Assemblies for public schools. I learned the great power of skits with attention deficit young people. I have seen a musical set a man free from condemnation. I have seen a musical compel a young offender to
surrender his life to Jesus. I have seen a dance open a heart to an important conversation. I have heard a church crowd sing so loudly and with so much passion that I was certain they shook the gates of hell.” In 2005, McCready and her husband, Shannon, settled down to plant a church in Asheville. Shannon would serve as Lead Pastor and Sherri would take on the role of Creative Arts Director. While in Asheville, McCready started Elevate School of Life and Art in 2009, which serves as the inspiration and model for Mountainside School of Mentoring and Art. Less than 10 years later, Elevate has grown from 25 students to over 300 and offers multiple classes from art and dance to full on academic tutoring.
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She hopes to bring that same kind of school to the High Country as a service and blessing to members of the community. “Private school tuition Praise through Performance. is out of reach for most, Sherri children, Eliza, Isaac, and and many working Annie starred in the musical she wrote families don’t see a called The Story of God. The entire way to homeschool,” family took the show on the road to share the Gospel with audiences and she said. “We started experienced many hardships along Elevate with after the way. school classes to ‘lower the fruit of the became the first teachers at Elevate to offer classes of branch’ within reach of the many who have never tasted it—be that all kinds. dance, photography, video editing, writing, acting, “I love artists,” she said. “They rarely ever feel good crocheting, or whatever.” enough, but they have to create anyway. It is the Her time as the administrator for the school in same as needing to breathe. It is my favorite to watch Asheville blessed McCready in ways she never God minister to them and through them at the same expected. One dance student even said to her, “I time.” came to take a class and I found community.” And to McCready, that’s the heart of what this new art It was McCready’s passion and calling to use art school through Mountainside will be all about. “I have seen students discover talents in area’s they would never have imagined simply because they had the chance to try,” she said. “I believe this is love in action… I believe this is God saying to a city of kids, ‘I see you. I love you. I am reaching to you.’” The dream to start schools like Elevate and Mountainside came after she directed a production of Godspell at Highland Christian Church. She said the congregation was full of 100 artists who were the most creative group she’d ever known. “I felt God challenging me to invest this talent and not to bury it,” she said. The production performed to a sold out audience at the Orange Peel and later toured to other cities for 27 more performances. It was those artists who
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The Moment of Truth. Siblings Annie and Isaac McCready star as “the Bride” and “the Called” in the original musical, The Story of God, by Sherri McCready. They performed live in Asheville to two sold-out audiences the weekend the show debuted.
to spread the Good News to the world that led her and her family to leave their home and church in Asheville to travel the country performing a musical she’d written called The Story of God. Originally her husband had asked her to write 16 episodes of the Story of God to use over the course of four months for his sermons, one Sunday at a time in 2012. McCready loved performing it so much, she wondered what it would be like to see it all at once. It wasn’t until 2014 when she traveled to East Asia
The calling she felt from God asking her to pursue writing the musical was so strong, McCready immediately started writing and raising the funds to perform it when she returned stateside. The McCready family performed it live for the first time to two sold-out crowds in Asheville. She and her husband then stepped down from their leadership roles at their church and toured The Story of God musical for the next two and a half years. While McCready was certain of God’s calling, it didn’t mean the journey was easy. “It was the most difficult mission assignment of my life,” she said. “The hardest part was the toll the travel and performance took on our cast, which were all my family.” Those two years were riddled with health challenges and personal crises that the family felt like they couldn’t appropriately embrace because “the show must go on.” McCready said they’re still recovering from the difficulties of those years even today, but that won’t stop them from following God’s calling.
A Heart for Art. Sherri McCready walks preschoolers through a performance of the Three Little Pigs at Mountainside Community School of Mentoring and Art’s first student showcase. Growing up with limited opportunities, she said her passion is for making art accessible to those wanting to learn.
“[I] witnessed the true hunger for both performance art and the Story of God,” she said. “I witnessed villagers watching our dancers for hours. I knew that if we had the Story of God accessible to them, they would never forget it.”
I BELIEVE “THE WHOLE
GAME IS WON OR LOST IN THE HEART. I WOULD RATHER AIM THERE
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with some of the dancers from their church that she realized the profound opportunity presented before her.
The last 30 years haven’t been easy, but to McCready, the main thing she’s learned is to always follow God’s voice and that art is a powerful vehicle in reaching people. She can’t wait to see how God will use Mountainside School of Mentoring and Art in the High Country. “Art is the language of the soul.” McCready said. “When you speak to someone, you are often engaging their mind. When you present art, you are often engaging their heart and soul. I believe the whole game is won or lost in the heart. I would rather aim there.”
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