There are moments in ministry that mark you forever.
Moments where God quietly shifts your understanding of what He is doing—and who He is doing it through. where there’s a noticeable change in the weight and focus of ministry. For me, that moment came through a man named John.
John first rolled through the doors of our Shine special needs ministry for teens and adults on a Monday night in May of 2024. He was about my age, tall and thin with shaggy hair, great boots, and the biggest smile you’ve ever seen. His chest and legs were strapped into his wheelchair, and resting across his lap was a large tray with a hand-drawn grid, like a homemade communication board, covered in small words and pictures that looked as old as him.
I quickly found out that John didn’t communicate with spoken words the way I do, but make no mistake, John communicated with the kind of joy that fills a room.
He instantly became a part of our Shine family. I’m not sure he ever missed a Monday. He sat right in the front row during our worship and lessons, proudly wearing his blue Shine shirt. He laughed at our leaders’ silly skits and shenanigans, greeted volunteers with intention and excitement, and once even led our group in the most memorable Phil Collins karaoke moment.
All without a single spoken word.
Monday nights became his happy place, the best day of his week, just like they have become for all of our Shine friends and volunteers. One day, as our series on baptism was wrapping up, I talked with the group again about an opportunity for them to get baptized at our upcoming annual Shine Sunday service, which focuses on our ministry.
As I came off the stage, John locked eyes with me, grabbed at my lanyard and hands to make sure I would stay and listen. Then John began communicating with his eyes and slight nods. I watched his gaze move across the room and then to the tiny words and pictures on his board.
With the help of his caregiver and his nods to confirm my understanding, he told me something that would change me forever.
He looked at the baptism trough we had set up on the stage. Baptized.
Then directly at a single word on his board. Scared.
Then he looked directly at me, with pleading, serious eyes.
Then across the room at our ministry leader and his longtime friend, Scott.
Then back to the trough again.
Back to scared.
Back to Scott.
Back to me.
We slowly pieced it together. John wanted to get baptized. But he was afraid. He wanted Scott in the baptism trough with him, and he wanted me standing right beside him.
I called Scott over and explained. John smiled that one-of-a-kind, confident grin at us both.
Could we figure out a way to get this tall man with very little body control out of his chair and into the trough? Would Scott be willing to get soaking wet and cradle a grown man in the water?
It took no time to answer. Absolutely, John! Yes! We could make that happen.
While he had our attention, he made one more thing very clear. He wanted to go all the way under. You got it, friend.
There was one last thing: we needed to make the testimony video to play that Sunday morning for the congregation, and there was just one question that everyone who gets baptized is asked.
One that I could translate for him, but I could not answer for him.
Why do you want to be baptized?
His eyes moved across the board again to two distinct words, without a falter in his gaze.
Love and God.
For over ten years, Shine had focused on just caring for and loving people with special needs.
Care and love is good and necessary. It’s where many ministries begin (or need to begin!) But John reminded us of something deeper.
When he was baptized that Sunday morning in August, he locked eyes with me before going under and gave that slight, yet confident nod. Our pastor said those same words to John that he says to everyone, “Because of your profession of faith, I baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit”. At that moment, there was a shift in the weight of ministry for me and for my team.
In a good way, a needed way. No matter how long we’ve been doing this, we’ve always got room for growth, all of us, in all of our ministries. In that moment, John showed us that even without spoken words, without being able to climb into that trough himself, without appearing to the outside world like he understood at all – he did.
He understood the love and sacrifice of Christ, he desired to publicly declare his faith, and he wanted to take the next steps of discipleship. If only…if only given the chance to access it and respond in his own way.
Do we understand the lengths that Jesus went to create access to Him for us personally?
That access, that sacrifice was for John, too. It’s for everyone. For all creation. The Son of Man came to seek and save the lost; all have sinned, all have fallen short of the glory of God.
All creation needs to hear the gospel.
Almost exactly a year to the day after John first rolled through our doors, he surprised us all again. He went home to be with Jesus.
Often, as I look at his name tag hanging above my desk, I tear up, I miss him, and I imagine that moment in heaven.
I can just see his ear-to-ear smile and him throwing that tray off, unstrapping those buckles, and standing up out of his wheelchair – for the very first time…and then I don’t know if he wrapped his arms around Jesus or knelt down and worshipped our Savior at his feet, but I do know it was a glorious day in heaven. And I do know it was an absolute honor to be called John’s friend here on earth, to be discipled by him, and to follow Jesus alongside him.
John was a disciple who changed his world, and I was a part of his world.
He reminded me in such a powerful, holy moment that the gospel truly is for all creation.
Not just for those who speak clearly, move easily, have a certain IQ, exhibit socially acceptable behaviors or fit our limited expectations of what discipleship looks like.
The Bible tells us in Mark 16:15 to “Go into all the world and preach the Gospel to all creation.”
John reminded us of that and showed us what faith looks like when it’s simple, sincere, and focused on the two words that matter most.
Love and God.
