George's Story

As you read my story, I have left out the names and individuals and some organizations intentionally. This is my story, theirs has already been told. PLEASE! Do not copy, forward, or distribute my story to anyone without my expressed written consent.

I grew up in the southern suburbs of Baltimore in a little place called Pasadena. I was a natural leader in school and on sports teams. In high school, I was quite the basketball player, and I was recognized as a high school All-American.

Upon graduation, I did what everyone else was doing: I went to college. But the books and I were never a good match. As a matter of fact, the only reason I went to college was to play basketball.

As a teen, I wanted nothing to do with church, but little did I know during my high school and early college years that the Holy Spirit was already working on me. When I was 19 a man named Tom Nelson came to little ole’ Pasadena to plant a new church. I knew Tom previously, but we weren’t close. It turns out my parents were attending that little church plant and faithfully asked me to join them. Of course, I wanted nothing to do with it. Who listens to their parents at that age?

Well, I was playing college ball, and this guy Tom showed up to one of my games. It made a huge impact on me. The interest that Tom showed drew me to visit this new church he was leading. Though Tom was 17 years older than me, we became friends and hit it off naturally with our mutual love for basketball. I found myself hanging out at the Nelson home after church many Sundays eating his wife Doris’ exquisite meals with homemade apple pie for dessert.

About six months later, I remember one Sunday night service as if it were yesterday. There was a guest speaker that evening named Donny Parent. During his message, an overwhelming force came upon me. I was paralyzed and couldn’t move. As he concluded his message, he began to play the piano. As I was frozen in place, I heard a voice in my mind saying, “George, I want you to be a mighty warrior in my kingdom. I will do great and mighty things through you.” I tried anything I could do to dismiss it. But the piano played, Tom took the mic and said, “There is someone here that the Holy Spirit wants to surrender. I could point you out!” I was so shocked I didn’t know what to do. He was to me, and I knew it. He said, “Now is the time. Come down and make a public profession of your surrender and faith in God.” I had no choice. The Holy Spirit was not going to have it any other way. I walked to the front and stood before Tom tears and uncontrollable emotions. At 20 years old, I had finally surrendered my life to Christ!

I started attending Tom’s church and did anything I could to help. I set up and broke down every service. Anything Tom asked me to do, I did. I was happy and fulfilled for the first time in my life. Do you remember that part about God saying he wanted to do great and mighty things through me? I had completely forgotten about it.

But Tom came to me after only being a Christian for three months and asked me to lead the youth ministry. What did I know about leading Christian youth? But Tom said he had confidence in me. So, I did it! The tiny youth group grew immediately, and God was doing so many things through me as many teens and young adults were saved.

Tom continued to pour himself into me. Tom had faith in God wherever I was lacking. He felt the Holy Spirit would cover me.

After only a year as a Christian, the next assignment was leading worship. We had no worship leader, so I learned how to play the guitar. The same thing was happening as I lead worship: God was moving.

I began to have these crazy thoughts of what God wanted me to do in the future. I felt so strongly that God was leading me to be a church planter and eventually oversee the churches. The approximate number of churches I felt God was saying was twenty-five. Wow! How’s that for dreaming? When I shared these things with Tom his response was, “Go for it, Bunky!” Of course, he knew I wasn’t ready yet, but he was very instrumental in helping to pave the way for me to get there. He was always so encouraging unlike many leaders today who feel threatened by such a young zealous guy.

The next assignment came quickly after only a year of being converted. We were a part of a larger group of churches called Elim Fellowship. What a great bunch of churches, pastors, and missionaries around the world. Tom heard that the national headquarters of Elim needed a leader of a summer camp ministry team to travel up and down the east coast ministering and working at different Elim youth camps. He put me forward as that ministry team leader. So off I went to Lima New York where Elim has its headquarters. I met all the other members of the ministry team I was to be responsible for. They were all much older than me! What was I doing leading them? But as before I was confident in God’s grace to give me the ability to do what he set me out to do. As we traveled up and down the coast that summer of 1979, I was given many opportunities to preach by the various camp directors. Tom’s word and good reputation preceded me. Remember, I was only a Christian for one year. As I was given these various opportunities, miraculous things were taking place! Many young people were giving their lives to Christ. People were being healed physically, emotionally, and spiritually. My newfound ministry had been launched to a regional level at the age of 21.

When the summer concluded, I came back to Pasadena with, I dare say, a great sense of anointing. In those Elim days that wasn’t a dirty word. But the time would come when that sense would be snuffed out, but back to the story. I began to throw myself back into the local church. About a year later at age 22, Tom asked me to preach. My message was on the difference between conviction and condemnation. I remember this morning very clearly as if it were yesterday. Because you see, that’s the day when this drop-dead gorgeous blonde visited the church for the first time. As I was speaking my eyes were immediately drawn to her. I don’t know how conspicuous I was able to be, but I was preaching my heart out and at the same time trying to stay focused on her out of the corner of my eye. After the service concluded, she introduced herself and thanked me for the message. Little did she know I already had her on my radar and in my sights! The rest is history. We were married only nine months later at the age of 22 and 20. Laurie Lynn Bastien became my wife, best friend, and the only person that would keep me from literally losing all hope and even potentially taking my life as this story took a dark turn.

At the age of 23, I was married and expecting my first-born son, Jonathan. I remember the day he was born with his umbilical cord tied in a dangerous knot. He could have lost his life before birth. (This part of my story is important because Jonathan became a great source of both pride, joy, and unfathomable pain far into the future. Understanding this is important to fully understand my depths of despair at the age of 61.)

At the age of 26, I was asked to relocate to Elim’s headquarters and assist the national youth ministry president Joe Nettleton. An honor! Joe was known all over the world for his leadership of a worldwide ministry called Teen World Outreach. I was only Joe’s assistant for a year when he was promoted to General Secretary of Elim at large. Guess who was now in charge of Teen World Outreach, thrust into yet another ministry role that he was in no way ready or trained for? You guessed it! Yours truly. I was now traveling all over the world. By now, our second and third were born: Amber and Candace.

Now in my late 20s, I was being hosted by some of the most influential, strategic, and humble church leaders internationally, from the Philippines to New Zealand, countries in Europe to Nepal, and everywhere in between. God was doing great and mighty things through me. Just like he said to me that Sunday night. It was happening right before my eyes. Wonderful people from all over the world being touched, saved, and healed. What was I doing in this place?

Do you remember when I said that I felt ultimately the Lord wanted me to plant churches and oversee them extra-locally? Well, that was beginning to become more and more front and center. When I was 30, I was on a plane to a national leader’s conference, and I met a man that most all of you would recognize if I mentioned his name. Obviously, he and his ministry were both nationally and internationally known.

As we shook hands, we struck up a conversation about our ministries, giving God the glory for all he had done through us. As he was sharing his journey, I learned that he led a church planting and oversight ministry. Of course, my interest was piqued. When we departed the plane, we exchanged phone numbers and decided we needed to continue this conversation that seemed meant to be.

Long story short, we decided I would join him and the rest of his team because of similar desires to plant and oversee churches. This is the point in time where my story begins to shift. At first, the shift is subtle from bright and full of faith, to dark and full of despair. Then, it takes a dramatic turn and gets rather dark and horrifying. Little did I know from age 30 until the time of writing this at age 63, I would be reduced to ashes, barely clinging to life in despair. I told you so much about my early days from conversion until my joyful international ministry because I wanted you to see how my dreams, vision, and calling were crushed by the next group of churches I decided to associate myself with.

I moved my family of 5 from upstate New York to where this church leader was based. (I have no desire to call out names, locations, and ministries. God took care of all that.) The plan was for me to become integrated into the life and culture of this ministry and then be launched out to plant a church and fulfill my calling. I had clearly shared all that I felt the Lord had called me to, so the leaders were aware of this. This is important to note because I made it clear to them that my condition for coming was a guaranteed path to planting a church. This ministry at the time would have been well-recognized, as well as the leaders directing the entire ministry, so I deemed them trustworthy.

As the first two years went by and I turned 32, I noticed a constant dwelling on sin, pride, and arrogance. Not only in general, but specifically concentrated on me. I began noticing that the leadership style of both the extra-local and local leaders was quite authoritarian. Dictatorial. Overbearing. Another obvious tenet is that church members had to practice certain things if they were to be accepted. It was never just about the gospel. It was always the gospel plus. One thing is for sure: there was a very narrow window everyone had to walk between. If you didn’t, one way or the other, you were gone at some point. This was foreign to me in my previous experience with Elim.

As these doses of heavy-handed blows came my way, I began to speak up, which was a thing you just didn’t do. What? Question a leader? May it never be! And whenever I did, I was quickly labeled as proud or arrogant. The more this kind of heavy-handedness came my way, the more I spoke up. Consequently, I was branded even more proud and arrogant after every encounter. Well, my first 5 years after relocating to this flagship church, I was pushed away and tucked aside. They reneged on their original promise to me. After all, if I challenged them while I was obscure, how much more would I challenge them as a co-leader? What would happen if other pastors began to hear about this guy challenging us?

I remember one encounter in particular which will represent many of the experiences I had at this church and in this ministry. Remember the guy I met on the plane? He was being sent to another city to “rescue” what was left of a church because the previous pastor had enough of the ministry’s leadership style. (I figured this out in hindsight.) So as preparations were being made for him to go, other families were prayerfully considering joining him on this church rescue mission. I remember clear as day; I was in a meeting with 3 other families. We all lived in the same suburb and attended the same small group. It was these 3 other families, Laurie and I, and the entire pastoral team which was I think about 6 or 7 men. The Sr. Pastor spoke up and said with authority, “All of you can’t go on this church plant. Two of you can go and two need to stay.” (He wanted to have the two families that stayed continue in their small group to keep things fluid for the leaders.) The room was extremely tense; you could cut the air with a knife. All four couples had felt strongly that they were supposed to go on this church plant. They were prepared to sacrifice all, give up their jobs, businesses, family, and close friends. They had counted the cost and felt it was the Lord’s will for them. I spoke up: “You can’t tell us that. Who are you and what kind of authority do you have to order people from following what they believe is the Lord’s will for them?” Well, you can guess how that went over. Yep, more years of being pushed aside and tucked away to deal with my pride and arrogance. After everything was said and done, I opposed them until they relented and “allowed’ these families to follow the Lord’s will.

On to the next city. Finally, everything will be new, and I’ll finally begin to realize my calling and dream of church planting. Not so fast, buddy! The first year was somewhat noneventful, but I was still very frustrated as things were taking so long. Now I’m challenged to give you a vivid and real picture of what was really going on, but if I did it would blow your mind. Suffice it to say there was a shift beginning in the highest level of leadership in this ministry. The guy who had relocated to this new city, who I’d met on the plane, who was key to this ministry from the beginning, was being replaced behind the scenes. It was an intentional, planned, and plotted coupe.

Now I am 38. This church was falling apart. I found myself in a meeting of the highest-ranking members of leadership in this ministry. The current leader of the church needed to take a break to get a few things squared away with his family. These few things were quite serious. There was one family I was very close with who were devastated beyond imagination. There were other things as well. Our intention locally was for him to go through a process and hopefully be restored after it was demonstrated these serious issues were not only addressed but resolved with those who were hurt. But little did I know there would be such an overwhelming pressure on this guy from the top, the process was circumvensted, and he left the entire ministry. This was the final attempt to get rid of this guy. I conclude this in hindsight. There was much devastation left behind, especially for the family I mentioned. The process being circumvented never allowed these good people to gain their footing and heal. The local guys wanted him to have time to get things right, and if this took place return to his position, and to make things right with this family. But there never was a process of restoration. On the contrary, things were in disarray. And there I was, now 38, utterly dumbfounded and demoralized. At this point, you may be asking, “why did you continue to stay there?” Well, there’s more to the story.

The situation in this church left me more vocal than ever. This was NOT godly Christian leadership. In the natural, I should have left the ministry at this point. But something more glorifying to God and more sinister to man was on the horizon for me. (It’s not that God was glorified because of the circumstances that would yet unfold; he would have been heartbroken. I am referring to Him being glorified in me for standing in the face of overwhelming adversity.) I truly believe, in retrospect, that the reason God had me move to this group of churches was yet to unfold. I will also tell you at this point, I would become very bitter and angry in the future at how all this turned out, and at God himself, but let me continue.

I was left trying to hold what little of the church was left, and it was not an enviable place to be. Things were a total mess. I wanted to leave. But there were real live human beings that were disillusioned, hurt, and despondent, so I decided to stay on. I was FINALLY set into church leadership by the overall leadership of this ministry, primarily because there was no one else. They really had no choice. How would you like to have that as your initial launch into vocational ministry in a group of churches? This was far from the discussion we had before my relocation to this ministry. But because of the local people there, I agreed.

About a year later, at age 39, a unilateral decision was made by the highest guy in the ministry’s leadership that I would be sent out to plant a church! But how? Why? This isn’t supposed to be the way it works, right? But I didn’t care! I was finally going to do what I felt the Lord had called me to 19 years prior. So, I was off to Jacksonville, Florida.

We parachuted into Jacksonville now with 6 children. Can you believe that? Jonathan, Amber, Candace, Joshua, Victoria, and Karah. When we came to Jacksonville Jonathan was 14, Amber 12, Candace 9, Joshua 6, Victoria was only 1, and Karah was an infant. Did my wife have her hands full or what? She had been my biggest supporter and was always ready to pick up, sacrifice, and leave wherever we were for the next assignment. We started meeting in Jacksonville and things could not have gone better. Now I was a church planter. Things were very good in Jacksonville. But things behind the scenes had not changed. The heavy-handed leadership was still coming down hard on me. I was STILL proud and arrogant according to them. It seems like this verdict came down usually after I had either questioned or spoken up about something I felt was wrong about their heavy-handedness. Let me tell you one small incident to give you a feel for things.

Laurie and I had six children. We needed a full-size van to transport them all with us whenever we went out. So, we talked, prayerfully considered it, and bought a new van. Word got out to the regional representative that was now directly over me in the larger ministry. He called me and asked about our new van. I told him how blessed and excited we were to be able to get it. Then I was being questioned about why I didn’t call him before making that decision. I asked him “what for?” He told me that other guys in the region would typically call him to ‘run it by him’ before they made such a decision. He asked again why I didn’t do that. He was pretty much telling me that I should have sought out his blessing, permission, whatever you want to call it. You already know what my response was. I told him that I didn’t even think about calling him to ask, nor did I think it was necessary. We were buying a vehicle for our family. Do you call and ask permission from anyone when you do this? Once more I was lectured and degraded about being proud and arrogant. After he was finished, he asked me if I had to do it all over again would I have called him? I told him “No.” Was there pride and arrogance in my life throughout this entire tenure? Of course. But not like was being pounded into my head. This is a small example of my time in Jacksonville. I could tell many stories more like it.

The church in Jacksonville was taking off. There was harmony within the local church leadership. The people loved me, and I so dearly loved the fine folks that were with me. But I kept them shielded from what was going on behind the scenes both then and from a historical perspective of all the things I had witnessed and heard. As time went on in Jacksonville the church continued to do better by God’s grace, but things continued to spiral downward behind the scenes. Now I have been in Jacksonville for about 5 years and I’m 45 years old.

Then that eventful day came. A family came to Jacksonville to visit their family that was in the Jacksonville church. I knew this visiting couple from one of the previous churches I had been involved. The father who was visiting asked me if he and his wife could talk to me confidentially in my office. I said, “of course.” The father began to tear up and break down. His dear wife was in the same state. I could tell something was deeply wrong. Maybe they were talking about getting a divorce? Maybe they had just lost someone in their family? I sat there and waited for them to compose themselves enough to choke out a few words. When he finally spoke, he said, “My 2-year-old daughter has been molested by someone in our home church. It has been going on for a while now.” I was floored, and my heart was broken for them. But unfortunately, that wasn’t the worst of it.

He continued by telling me that the pastoral leadership had instructed them NOT to call the police or report it because the pastoral team was “dealing with it” and had things under control. (Now at this moment, you must understand what can happen to people when they have been under this kind of authoritarian leadership for so long. If I told you more of the details, you would be sickened.) I couldn’t believe what he was telling me. But he continued to insist that this is what the pastors told him. Then he looked me in the eyes, full of tears and trembling, as he asked me, “What would you counsel us to do?” I told him, and I quote, “If what you’re telling me is true, I would call the police immediately.” He told me he didn’t think he could because he was so afraid of the implications. My response to that was: “If you won’t or can’t call the police, then I will. I cannot let this go without reporting it.” I knew what the implications of that counsel would mean for me and my future. But what was I to do? They left and went back to their hometown. I followed up with him the next day and asked, “Do you want me to call the police for you?” He answered, “No, I just did it today.”

The next day, I got a phone call from the lead pastor of his church. He told me to butt out, saying that this was not my jurisdiction or concern and that they had it handled. Suffice it to say, I didn’t agree. I gave it to him! Little did I know that this would be the very beginning of multiple alleged child molestation cases revealed in the future.

This was the point where I knew they would be coming for me. Sure enough, I got a phone call a few months later from the regional overseer. Do you remember the guy that told me I needed permission to buy a van? I met with him for lunch in a city between us. And it was then that the news was delivered. He informed me that the leadership team of this ministry had concluded that I was “no longer sufficiently gifted to lead the church in Jacksonville.” I was crushed, as if I had been pierced through the heart. I cannot begin to describe to you the pain. I knew why this verdict had come. Not gifted enough, really?

Remember the church in Jacksonville was going wonderful. No one locally knew about any of the strife that had been going on for years. I felt like a father trying to protect his children from the shock and strife of it all. So, I was left with a choice. Do I pull the church out of this larger group of churches and subject them to all this strife, abusive leadership, and shrapnel, or do I fall on my sword and quietly leave my baby, the people that I loved so very dearly? I thought if I attempted to stay the people might be scattered, hurt, and possibly the church split or be disintegrated and blown up completely. So, I chose the ‘falling on my own sword’ option to protect the church.

I remember that Sunday morning in April 2006. I stood before my beloved church and proceeded to tell them that I needed to resign. And the hollow part of it is, I couldn’t tell them why, fearing they would rise to my defense, split, or whatever. Many of you are saying right now, “I would have done it another way.” I did what I thought was right at the time. This was the beginning of a long, bitter, angry period in my life--pretty much from the time I was 46 at my resignation until very recently at the age of 63. But believe it or not, the worst was yet to come.

Do you remember that family that came to me about their little girl? That was many years ago now. But as time unfolded from that point forward, I realized that there were many other children in some of the other churches that were allegedly being molested. It all began to come out. God was revealing this alleged coverup. I have no idea how many children and families were destroyed. But one thing I realized: I was involved in what may have been one of the first cases and revealing to the police, the churches, and the world that this was going on. I don’t know if I was the first one with the opportunity to stand up without fear, but I was indeed one of the first ones to sound the alarm. First, the call was made to the police, and then with time the public would know: Something was very wrong with the leadership of this group of churches. God had brought me to this place to plant the wonderful church in Jacksonville, but more importantly, to be used by the Almighty to speak up for what is right amid these grievous things. This was why God brought me to this place. He brought me through these horrific 16 years because he knew that this moment would come. He would use me as a mouthpiece for the innocent. He brought me through this hell-on-earth for such a time as this.

At this point, none of you should think that this was my conclusion and perspective at the time I resigned. That would be far from the truth. I was an extremely bitter man. Full of anger, harshness, and ungodliness. This was my response. I put my family through hell-on-earth. I am thankful to God that he brought them through to where they are, wonderful grown adults to this day.

When I resigned, none of the pastors or extra-local leaders called. No one seemed to care. No one reached out. I had gone from the heights as God’s servant worker to shaking my fist at him, asking him why he allowed all this to happen. I spent so much time on my early years to show you how far I had come from those glory days of traveling the world and God moving miraculously through me. I was now a very bitter man. And I was left for dead by these “leaders.”

The years continued to go by into my late 40s and 50s. Every year that came, I grew more and more bitter. I became aloof, pulling away from those I loved, my family, my children, and especially my dear wife. I stiff-armed my closest friends who tried to appeal to me. What did they know? They would not understand, and I didn’t want to tell them the gory details because I was not up to the turmoil of this ministry coming after me again. I was eaten alive by bitterness towards God. I became a monster of a man. I threw myself into business and worked and worked and worked. I had to do something to disguise all the pain. Stress and intensity were the diets of my life.

Do you think you’ve heard the worst of it yet? Buckle your seatbelts. I became so lonely and lost in despair, that I left my wife in the fall of 2019. While separated, I turned so mean and vindictive. There was no one else close to take it out on, so I took it out on her. I finally fell into such a dark depression; I could barely manage to attend my son Jonathan’s wedding in December of 2019. I was there, but I stood off in a corner by myself. I could barely speak. I was free falling, considering taking my life. But little did I know, I was also a very sick man physically.

By October 2020, I was so lost I decided to take a trip in my little RV to the North Carolina mountains. I was searching, trying to find myself. I built a fire and sat by the stream. As I gazed into the fire, I heard a voice. It was the Holy Spirit! He said, “What are you doing here? Get up and go home to make things right.” I felt like Elijah when God spoke to him in the cave as he contemplated taking his life. I went home and called Laurie. I told her about my mountain experience. I wasn’t asking her for anything; I didn’t deserve to even be speaking to her. I also shared what took place with four faithful friends who had never stopped loving me and never judged me.

The years of anger and depression had finally taken their toll on my body. The year I separated from Laurie, I was not only sick spiritually, but I was a sick man physically. I assumed my symptoms stemmed from depression. So, despite feeling sick, I kept pushing in business. But more and more, I was grounded to my chair, unable to move. My children were understandably very angry with their father after leaving their mother. No one understood how I could do that. My son Jonathan was the one who would call me occasionally and stop by to see me. He was trying to be an intermediary between his mother and me.

On October 27, 2020, I was at an appointment in a customer’s yard. I began to feel so weak that I almost fainted. I was able to gather myself and get back to my apartment. I didn’t know what to do; I just knew something was dreadfully wrong. The next morning came, and I could not move or get out of bed. I could barely breathe, and I certainly couldn’t walk or drive myself to the doctor. I called Jonathan and told him to come right away. He came and had to pick me up and carry me to the car. I’m a big guy, 6’4” and about 235 lbs. Imagine what it took to carry me.

When he got me into the doctor’s office, I had a fever of 104! They send me directly to the emergency room. Jonathan carried my limp body in, and they took me right back. Very soon, it seemed like every doctor in that hospital was swarming around my bed. I was barely conscious, but I was aware enough to know they were pumping blood into one arm and very strong antibiotics into the other arm. If it was not for the hospitalist moving quickly and making the exact right moves, I would have died right there. I was going into septic shock, and they were losing me. I blacked out. When I woke up, Jonathan was there holding my hand. He was the only one. No one else in my family even knew how dire my condition was, that I was teetering between life and death.

I continued going in and out of consciousness until days later I found myself in a hospital room. When I finally opened my eyes, she was sitting next to me holding my hand. My wife Laurie came to be with me. After all I had done to her, I didn’t deserve anything from her at all. It was as if I opened my eyes and was looking on an angel sent from heaven. My eyes filled with tears.

I was in the hospital for nine days while the doctors ran tests trying to find the cause of the sepsis. To make a long story short, they diagnosed me with cancer! Do you want to talk about being devastated? It was multiple myeloma, a cancer of the white blood cells that wipes out your immune system, which explains the sepsis. I had almost zero red blood cells or platelets either. This cancer fills the bone marrow to a point where it can no longer make good blood cells. My bone marrow was already 98% filled with cancer. What’s the first question someone asks when told they have 98% invasive cancer? It’s: How long do I have?

I finally returned to my apartment after recovering from sepsis. But now the daunting task of dealing with this cancer was before me. I had to begin treatment right away, but I was so weak I couldn’t. The strong chemo needed would also attack my already non-existent immunity. Do you think you’ve heard the worst of my story yet?

When I recovered from the sepsis, Laurie and I began talking again; she would come to my apartment because I was too weak to do much else. My son Jonathan hurried to finish his business contracts so he could come over and help me run my own business. I was so relieved. He was taking up his place and doing what a man should. Knowing he was there helped me concentrate on getting better. But I still couldn’t start the cancer treatment.

About a month later, in early December 2020, I had to be rushed to the hospital. Once again, it was sepsis, and I was battling for my life. Once again, I recovered, but the cancer was still not being dealt with. On December 8, 2020, while I was still in the hospital, I received this text from Jonathan:

Hang in there dad, wish I could go visit with you. I’m holding the fort down. Keep your focus on kicking this in the ass. Fight and keep getting back up with these punches just as if you were in the first few years of a new business. I know it sucks being there. Take it one day at a time, be patient and positive, you’ve got this!

The next morning, on December 9, I was supposed to go home. Laurie was going to pick me up around Noon. But she was late, which wasn’t like her. It was going on 2 PM, and she finally got to my hospital room. I could tell something was wrong. I looked at her and she said, “There’s something I need to tell you.” I immediately started asking her: “Is it your father? Is it my father?” She shook her head no and began to tear up. “It’s Jonathan. He’s gone,” she said. “What do you mean he’s gone?” I begged. She looked at me again and repeated, “He’s gone.” I asked a third time: “What do you mean he’s gone? Where did he go?” She bluntly replied, “He died early this morning in his sleep.”

My son was gone! My first-born son Jonathan, the same son that was there for me. The same son that just literally carried me into the emergency room and held my hand as I was battling for my life only a few weeks ago! The same son who texted me only hours before with support and encouragement! My Jonny, he was gone! The pain and agony of a very sick man cannot be described. I dropped down to the depths of Sheol. I moaned for days, weeks, and months. That’s all I could do. I was finally crushed and finished off. I was an old and dying man. My body was full of cancer. Jonathan’s beautiful wife Natasha was pregnant with his first son. He didn’t even see his first anniversary with his new bride. He didn’t get a chance to hold his son as I held him when he was born. I was completely broken down to dust. The text that was sent to me the afternoon before was the last communication I had with my son. (My wife enshrined these words on a beautiful plaque with his picture and thumbprint. I was intending on hanging it on the wall above my dresser. But I haven’t been able to look at it yet without breaking down. So, it is still put away.)

The ensuing months after Jonathan’s death brought two more battles with sepsis, which made for one case of sepsis four months in a row. The doctors finally figured out how to rid me of the recurring bacteria and begin to treat me ever-so-carefully for the cancer. It took me much longer than the average patient to get the cancer down because of my weakened condition and the 98% progression. After about fourteen months of strong chemo and steroids, I did not achieve a full response of 0%, but it’s close. Now I am on a monthly maintenance regimen until the cancer sticks its ugly head back up. This is the kind of cancer that cannot be cured. The best-case scenario is to battle it. The patient’s genetics and individual makeup determines how long you have. It could be 3-5 years, or it could be 20 years. It’s like you are a walking time bomb. I constantly look over my shoulder for when the hammer is going to come down, just as I did when I was in that group of churches.

Recently, I took a trip and was able to catch up with some dear friends that I served alongside in ministry over the years. Do you remember my mentor, Tom? I was able to see him too. He is now 80 years old. As I revisited these great friends the Lord began to do a miraculous work in me. You see, I identify with these friends because they were “run over” by the group of churches they were involved with as well. As I met with each one of them, God used them very instrumentally to bring back the vision I once had. I also had a family reunion on this trip. My family reminded me of those glory days as well.

I began to think about all the great leaders that I personally knew that were discarded and left for dead just like I was. Each one of them with their own story to tell. Many of them are nowhere near where they once were or where they needed to be just like I was. The more I thought the more the Lord spoke to me. Just like when I was 20 in that little Community Gospel Church in Pasadena Maryland. He reminded me of all the mighty things he did through me as a young man. He made me keenly aware and burdened of how many thousands, hundreds of thousands, and even millions of people around the world were also run over and left for dead. Where are all those good people now? How are they hurting? Where is their place of refuge? Do they suffer, having been under ungodly leadership? Have they had their dreams crushed, of all the Lord called them to when they were young? Did they become aloof, lonely, and left for dead? Do they suffer from paralyzing depression? Have any of them become separated or divorced as a result of the overwhelming pressure, stress, and feelings of despair? Have any of them developed a very serious illness that may take them out? Have any lost a child that brought their soul down to the depths of Sheol? I can relate to all of them.

About a year ago God gave me the vision of Safe Harbor Network. I shared it with one of my dear friends and did not give it another thought until now. “But Lord how can you use me again like you did when I was a young man? It seems impossible after all I’ve been through. I have cancer,” but I believe he can use me in a mighty way again, and he will!

What is your story to tell? And where is your Safe Harbor? What does God want to resurrect in you like the glory days of your youth? Let’s join together and rekindle the flame. Let’s together look for others that have a story to tell that is like ours. How do we know whether or not God allowed all this to happen to us, for such a time as this?

George Harrington