Everything in That Bible Is True

John-Michael Marroquin came to our campus because a friend needed groceries.

Her husband had lost his job, and she needed help with food. John-Michael brought her to the Highland Park CAN food pantry. There Vernon Liverett told him about the Tuesday community dinner.

"It is a free meal," Marroquin thought, "and I am going because I need fellowship."

He also needed a church.

In 2004, while living in Houston, Marroquin was diagnosed with a neurological illness. It shook him, but it did not drive him from his faith. At first, he admits, he lived in denial. Then a friend challenged him to take the Bible seriously.

"Read the Bible. Do everything in the Bible that it tells you to do," his friend said. "I guarantee that in one year your life will change. What do you have to lose? If everything in that Bible is true, you have everything to gain."

Marroquin accepted the challenge. In 2006, he joined Grace Community Church in Houston. Faith became more than Sunday worship. He studied the Bible, prayed daily, and tried to follow the leading of the Holy Spirit.

His life changed. He received a job promotion to general manager, responsible for about 30 accounts. His income grew. So did his faith. 

He joined the church choir, though the first rehearsal tested more than his voice. He stood in front and sang with everything he had. One of the men soon approached him. "John," he said, "you might want to go sit in the back."

Marroquin stayed with the 268-member choir. He had come to sing for the Lord. The Lord began by working on his pride.

The illness did not disappear. Stress made it worse, and John-Michael eventually left the corporate work he had once considered a success. "God removed that," he said. "He wanted me to go somewhere else, and I followed Him."

That somewhere else was the road. Marroquin began training for a commercial driver's license. In Waxahachie, discouraged by a test he was afraid he could not pass, he stood outside and prayed. "Lord, why am I here?" he asked. "Where am I supposed to go? What am I doing?"

When he turned around, he saw a woman who was also a Christian. She later became his second wife. They married in 2015, drove together, and talked about God with people they met along the way. Not everyone wanted to listen. They spoke anyway.

In 2016 he was hospitalized while on the road, a year later his wife’s health problems brought an end to their time driving together. So, Marroquin went to work for Greyhound. He drove interstate routes from 2017 until 2022 and called it the best job he ever had. Another surgery brought his years behind the wheel to an end.

His marriage ended too. The divorce was hard. He drifted from the life he believed God had called him to live and searched for a church where he could belong. The search brought him to Baptist Temple when a friend needed groceries. He came for food and found fellowship and the connection to God he always longed for.

"I was led to you by God," he said. "I feel the presence of God here."

When asked what God had placed in his heart, Marroquin did not hesitate.

"To minister," he said. "To spread the gospel, the Word of God, and share it with others. His amazing grace, the testimonies that we have, the things that I have seen. I can say today that everything in that Bible is true.”

From Isolation to Purpose

"I created my own cell," is how Ivan Laredo described his life before coming to Baptist Temple. He was not behind bars. He was living alone in an apartment, surrounded by people who still lived the lifestyle he was trying to leave behind. He had a television, a phone, Christian programming, and a Bible. What he did not have was fellowship. 

People in the neighborhood kept telling him about Baptist Temple. They talked about the Tuesday evening meal and encouraged him to come. These were not church members. They were people who knew where to find a hot meal and a friendly face. They all told him the same thing: "Go to Baptist Temple." 

One evening, after returning from donating plasma, Laredo had enough of the isolation. He looked at the clock. It was after 5:30. Instead of spending another evening alone, he walked into the cafeteria looking for company.

He found more than a meal. Someone told him there was a Bible study immediately afterward. That was exactly what he had been missing. Laredo knew from experience that it is difficult to walk away from an old life by yourself. He had spent years pursuing alcohol, drugs, and other destructive habits with everything he had. As he put it, he was "full steam ahead." He realized that if he was going to follow Christ, he needed to be just as intentional about surrounding himself with people who shared his faith. 

Laredo's journey has not been an easy one. He began drinking at thirteen and describes his life as a roller coaster. He was introduced to Christ as a teenager through the mother of his high school sweetheart, but his spiritual journey has included many starts and stops along the way. Today, however, he celebrates six years of sobriety. He speaks openly about his gratitude to God for bringing him this far.

What stands out most is not what Laredo has left behind but what he has found. He serves at the HP CAN food pantry on the BT Campus, helps with food distribution, and attends Bible studies. He works alongside people he once would not have imagined himself serving beside. Looking at his current life, he shakes his head and says, "This is not me, Pastor." Friends who knew him years ago would be shocked to see him serving others and investing his time in ministry. Yet that is often how God works. The people most surprised by a transformed life are the people who knew us before Christ began changing us. 

Laredo says serving gives him purpose. It helps him stay focused and grounded. More importantly, he sees it as service to God's Kingdom rather than simply volunteering. He talks about an urgency in his heart, a desire to stop "flip-flopping" and fully commit himself to following Christ. His heart is in it. He wants to be there. 

He said, "This church reaches out to the actual community," observing that churches can become so busy serving themselves that they forget the people living just beyond their walls. Laredo first encountered Baptist Temple because the community knew the church was there. Long before he joined a Bible study or helped distribute food, people in the neighborhood were already pointing him toward a place where he could find help, friendship, and hope.

The Tuesday meal brought him through the door. Fellowship kept him coming back. Service gave him purpose. You never know what God will do with an invitation to dinner. Sometimes it becomes a place at the table. Sometimes it becomes a ministry. Sometimes it changes a life.

A Familiar Gym, a Larger Purpose

The Baptist Temple Campus gym has long been a place where neighbors gather and build community. Recently, that space was used for a study connected to assistive technology and rehabilitation, giving researchers and participants a familiar setting in which to observe movement, communication, and access outside a clinic or classroom.

That setting matters. For people living with limb loss, access to care is often shaped by transportation, trust, and relationships. By making the gym available, the Highland Park Community Assistance Network (HP CAN) helped reduce those barriers and supported practical learning that can inform how assistive devices, therapies, and services are designed for everyday use.

The study also reflects a larger effort in South Texas to improve support for people with complex mobility and rehabilitation needs. At UT Health San Antonio, programs such as Project ASPIRE (Advancing Successful Preparation of Interprofessional Related Services in Education Settings) prepare future occupational therapy and speech-language pathology professionals to serve children with high-intensity needs. This work is strongest when it is connected to the places where people live, learn, and participate in community life.

For HP CAN, this connection is mission based. The gym served not only as a place for recreation and fellowship but also as a practical site for study activities tied to mobility and rehabilitation.

Assistive technology is most useful when it works in the normal conditions of daily life: walking across open floors, communicating in busy rooms, managing fatigue, and participating at home, at school, at church, and in the community. A community setting can help researchers see practical barriers and strengths that may not appear in more controlled environments.

The BT Campus gym has been part of the community from its beginning. Basketball and volleyball leagues, summer camps, and open recreation have all used the space for fellowship and physical fitness. Grants from the Baptist Health Foundation and the Charity Ball Association, along with contributions from individual donors, have helped create a community space that serves the spiritual and physical needs of our neighbors. By opening that space for this study, HP CAN used what it had—hospitality, trust, and a familiar gym—to support work aimed at improving mobility, participation, and independence.
 

A Hot Meal, a Warm Welcome, and a New Beginning

Linda “Qween” Davis has always worshiped God. “I’m always praying to God, asking him to help me and take care of me,” she said, “but I have a long way to go.”

Her first encounter with the Highland Park Community Assistance Network (HPCAN) came when she and her husband, who died a year ago, attended one of the Tuesday night community meals. He suggested they go out for a hot dinner.

“And I’m like, where?” Qween remembered, “and he said, ‘At the church.’”

She remembers the warm welcome that came with the hot meal, especially from Kathy Lopez.

Later, Qween became part of the Monday ceramics class, where she met Angelina Guajardo, program director for Divine Women, a support ministry for women. At Guajardo’s invitation, Qween participated in the group for a while.

Eventually, she began volunteering in the kitchen for the Tuesday meals, the same ministry through which she first encountered HPCAN. “I’ve always liked to cook, and I like to help people as much as I can,” she said. “I try not to miss. I’m there helping in the community, serving the food and everything.”

Daniel Arredondo, Minister of Outreach, calls her a great worker. “She’s a valued member of our kitchen team,” he said. “Her heart is growing.”

Coworker Bobann Moore agreed. “When we’re in that kitchen, she will do anything, anything at all to help,” Moore said.

Vernon Liverett remarked on Qween’s cheerful attitude and the way she relates to guests. “Qween has a good relationship with the people that come through the line,” Liverett said. “She makes them comfortable. She makes it feel relaxed and kids around with them. And then just makes the whole interaction very positive.”

“When I’m up there serving the food and stuff, I’m always telling them, ‘Welcome. Have a happy Tuesday. Don’t forget to thank the good Lord for this day,’” Queen said. “I know half of the people that come and eat at the church.”

Among the Tuesday night volunteers, Qween has found more than a place to serve. She has found community. “We’re always laughing and joking and playing around with each other,” she said. “And whenever something’s wrong with me or I’m sick or something, they always check up on me.”

That kind of care stood out to her. It was not what she had experienced in churches as a teenager. “That’s what made me give up on churches until I found this one here,” she said.

Arredondo has seen growth in her life. “She’s come a long way,” he said. “She was very unreceptive at first, but over time, she’s learned to take the Word of God and let it discipline her and purify her and conform her.”

Qween eventually started attending worship and Bible study. The Bible study is led by Liverett and Kay Richardson, who coordinates the Tuesday night meals. Qween appreciates the way the teaching is easy to understand and the opportunity to ask questions. “With Miss Kay, I’m learning stuff that I never knew about,” she said. “And she makes it so simple.”

Recently, Qween was baptized and committed herself to a growing relationship with Jesus Christ. For her, baptism marked an opportunity “to let go of all my sins and move forward with the help of the good Lord to do better.”

Building Skills, Building Lives

Bryant Evans learned early that basketball is more than a game. Raised in Midland, Texas, by a single mother alongside three siblings, he found in the sport a safe haven that gave him structure, confidence, and direction. Years later, after playing in college and professionally in Europe, he returned to those same lessons, using them to encourage and discipline young people who needed both.

Evans played at Midland Christian School, where his team won back-to-back state championships, before continuing to Trinidad State College in Colorado. His performance there led to a professional career in Europe, including stops in Luxembourg and Germany. As a point guard, he learned to read the court, lead under pressure, and create opportunities for his teammates.

His work did not end when his playing career did. Afterward, Evans began coaching and training young athletes. For nine years, he has served as an Amateur Athletic Union coach and skills trainer and created Building Skills Academy, a program rooted in basketball but aimed at something larger.

Evans is not simply trying to produce elite players, though some of his teams compete at a high level. He also works with children who have never played before. Some older players came to him after failing to make their middle school teams. Under his guidance, they learned the game, built discipline, gained confidence, and began to succeed.

In many communities, youth sports have become expensive and exclusive. Tournament fees, uniforms, travel, and private training can shut out families with limited resources. Building Skills Academy responds by offering a more affordable path to high-level instruction.

For Evans, coaching is more than a side business or hobby; it is a calling and a way to serve. Through it, he passes on the lessons that shaped his life. Basketball is not the ultimate goal. He wants children to develop perseverance and believe they can improve. For him, the court is a classroom, and each drill builds habits that carry into school, family, work, and life.

Before practice, the team prays. Evans’s Christian faith shapes the values he hopes his players will carry with them. He tells them that life is difficult without God and encourages them to put Him first.

His own story gives him credibility. Evans knows what it means for basketball to provide refuge. He knows what it means to be shaped by coaches and mentors. Now he is a mentor himself. His players learn how to dribble, shoot, and defend, but they also learn to believe in themselves, value discipline, and see that life is bigger than the scoreboard. Bryant Evans’ true mission is helping build lives.

It Is Not Good to Be Alone

We are created for community. God declared, “It is not good that the man should be alone” (Gen. 2:18). We are not designed for isolation, self-sufficiency, or survival alone. The first believers understood this well. In Acts 2:42-47, the new believers gathered together, shared their lives, broke bread, prayed, worshiped, and cared for one another. It is a beautiful picture of Christian community. Yet, by Acts 6, complaints had arisen because some widows were being overlooked in the daily distribution of food. In Corinth, Paul had to correct a church whose members had turned the Lord’s Supper into an occasion for selfishness and division.

That is part of our sin nature. We are often inclined toward survival, looking out for number one. We have an “I” problem. In the garden, Eve disobeyed God because she desired to be like Him. Isaiah 14:12–14 tells of Lucifer’s desire to ascend and be “like the Most High.” Sin bends the heart inward. It teaches us to protect ourselves, promote ourselves, and place ourselves at the center. 

But the Holy Spirit moves us beyond that. Christian community is more than a gathering of people in the same room. It is a shared life shaped by service, humility, and mutual care. The New Testament’s many “one another” commands make this clear. We are told to love one another, serve one another, forgive one another, encourage one another, bear one another’s burdens, and care for one another. These commands assume that the Christian life cannot be lived alone. Faith may be personal, but it is never private.

True community generates something greater than the sum of its parts. It brings encouragement, increases effectiveness, and opens the door to new ideas and shared strength. It creates synergy. Detroit became the center of the American automobile industry because manufacturers, suppliers, workers, designers, and competitors gathered in close proximity. Silicon Valley became a center of technological innovation for similar reasons. When people with shared purpose, skill, energy, and imagination work near one another, things happen that would not happen in isolation.

The Baptist Temple campus has experienced remarkable seasons of community. When Jubilee Academy was located on campus, the partnership became more than a rental arrangement. Middle school students helped distribute food to the community, teachers helped on campus projects, and children sang at special events. One year, Vacation Bible School brought together the five churches that meet on the campus, refugee children from Africa, a mission team from the Baptist University of the Américas, and lots of neighborhood kids. 

That same spirit of community is also reflected in the many volunteers who first came to us for services. They felt welcomed and accepted, becoming part of the team and building self-esteem through serving others. Our volunteers reflect remarkable diversity in age, race, ethnicity, and economic background.

That spirit continues in other ways. From the Early Learning Center to Funeral Caring, USA our family of churches and service providers bring cradle-to-grave care to our community. Together we create a hub that magnifies our ability to meet the physical and spiritual needs of our neighbors while sharing expenses and reducing needless duplication of services.

Community is part of God’s design. It corrects our selfishness, enlarges our vision, strengthens our work.

Two are better than one,

because they have a good return for their labor:

 If either of them falls down,

 one can help the other up.

 But pity anyone who falls

 and has no one to help them up.

 Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm.

 But how can one keep warm alone?

 Though one may be overpowered,

 two can defend themselves.

 A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.

 Ecclesiastes 4:9-12

Hope in the Heart of the City

An organization that prevails is one that adapts to a changing environment in order to meet the needs of people. It does not rest on past successes, nor does it rage against gathering clouds. Instead, it uses the past as a prelude and presses on to greater heights.

Its leaders understand the times, looking for where God is at work—because God is always at work.

For more than 100 years, we have navigated community change. From pastureland to upscale suburbs to the inner city, we have sought to meet the spiritual and physical needs of our neighbors.

During the Great Depression, a “Tent City” of homeless people formed a mile east of us. We brought blankets, clothing, food, and medicine. At the same time, we operated a soup kitchen a mile to the north.

In the late 1960s, the construction of I-10 and HemisFair ’68 radically changed the neighborhood. Homes were demolished. People and financial resources migrated north. But we stayed.

Sewing classes, ESL instruction, a medical clinic, a methadone program, sports and recreation for all ages, and an early learning center emerged to meet community needs. They were later joined by a food pantry, clothing closet, and counseling ministries.

Today, we serve in a community where life expectancy is ten years lower than in some neighborhoods on the north side of San Antonio.

Yet, in the middle of this so-called under-resourced area, stands this magnificent facility: eighty thousand square feet on three acres. We are located on I-10 near a major exit, close to Interstates 35, 37, and 410, just one block from two bus routes, with ample parking and a dedicated cadre of workers—many from this very community.

Around us stands a growing network of churches, businesses, nonprofits, foundations, and individuals committed to breaking the bonds of generational poverty.

There are many success stories. The hungry are fed. The homeless are housed. Addicts are finding sobriety. But some of the greatest victories are among our youth.

Let me tell you about Coby. He grew up in our children’s and youth ministries, nurtured by caring adults who faithfully brought him and his sister to church. He became one of the 60 percent in our community who graduate from high school and later received a full scholarship to the University of the Incarnate Word… as a saxophone player.

Though he attended a high school often viewed as less competitive than those in more affluent communities, he was given the tools, encouragement, and support needed to succeed at a major university.

Then there is Meosha, who lived in Denver Heights as a child, and went to college om an athletic scholarship.

This month, another of our students, Diego, will graduate from St. Mary's University and be commissioned as a second lieutenant in the Texas Army National Guard. Destiny will also graduate from St. Mary’s this month.

There are many others who have continued their education beyond high school thanks to the John and Mary Ellen Long grants. There is hope.

We have also provided internship opportunities for students from Baylor University, Our Lady of the Lake University, The University of Texas at San Antonio, and Baptist University of the Americas, along with a workforce training program for special-needs students through SAISD.

This summer, we will host the Texas Baptist Deaf Conference for the second time, along with a two-week camp for children with special needs.

Each month we:

    •    provide 623 boxes of groceries,
    •    serve 775 free dinners,
    •    distribute 182 lunch bags,
    •    provide 83 clothing changes for homeless individuals, and
    •    serve 2,620 free school meals.

But we offer more than handouts. We offer friendship and dignity. We provide support groups, counseling, and classes in life skills and health.

From the Early Learning Center to Funeral Caring USA, we care for our community from cradle to grave. In between, we provide respite care, Empower House, Divine Women, ceramics classes, and five churches working together in a multifaceted, holistic approach to loving our neighbors.

We receive generous support from foundations including the Baptist Health Foundation, the Charity Ball Association, the Texas Baptist Missions Foundation, and H-E-B Tournament of Champions. Their support has helped fund major repairs and improvements, including our inclusive playground—where children with disabilities can play alongside their typically abled friends—and our gymnasium, where six youth basketball teams practice. Sports help keep young people healthy, engaged in school, and out of trouble. Children and adults alike use these facilities.

Support also comes from individuals, churches, businesses, and nonprofit organizations. During COVID, a government grant allowed our Early Learning Center to remain open and continue serving the children of essential workers.

As the needs have increased, so have the resources. This year, HP CAN became a Texas nonprofit organization recognized by the IRS as a 501(c)(3). We are preparing to bring in additional partners, expand our services, and increase the number of people we serve.

Work, Dignity, and Opportunity

In recent years, a partnership has taken root between Baptist Temple and the San Antonio Independent School District (SAISD) that has steadily reshaped expectations for students with disabilities preparing to enter the workforce. What began as a practical collaboration has matured into a life-giving pathway marked by dignity, skill, and surprising independence.

At the center of this effort is Kirbe Hunt-Montgomery, a work-based learning teacher at Sam Houston High School. In her role, Hunt-Montgomery serves as both advocate and architect, guiding students through the often-daunting transition from structured school environments into the unpredictability of adult employment. Her work reflects a broader vision within SAISD: to ensure that all students, regardless of ability, are equipped not merely to graduate, but to participate meaningfully in the workforce.

Through SAISD’s work-based learning programs, juniors and seniors are placed in real-world environments where they can develop practical skills. Among these placements, Baptist Temple’s thrift store has emerged as a particularly effective training ground. There, students encounter not only the mechanics of retail work—sorting, organizing, assisting customers—but also the relational rhythms that define any workplace: communication, initiative, and responsibility.

Hunt-Montgomery describes the partnership with clear gratitude. The structure and support provided by Baptist Temple allow certain students to leave campus and engage in off-site work, an opportunity not easily secured for those with additional challenges. This access, she notes, is transformative. “They went from not being able to tie their own shoes to working at the register, to bagging groceries, to working in retail, to working in warehouses,” she said.

Several students who began their training in this environment have progressed into more advanced opportunities, including internships through Project SEARCH at CHRISTUS Children’s Hospital. There, they complete a year-long program that often leads directly to employment. Some have found work in local businesses ranging from restaurants to car washes, and even daycare centers.

Yet the most compelling outcomes are not merely vocational. They are personal. Hunt-Montgomery recounts the stories of students whose parents once doubted their capacity for independence. In many cases, those same students have learned not only to work but to thrive—mastering tasks once thought beyond their reach, securing driver’s licenses, and in some instances, living independently. These are not incremental gains; they are profound shifts in identity and expectation.

Such transformation does not occur in isolation. It is sustained by environments that communicate worth. For many students, Baptist Temple has provided precisely that. Hunt-Montgomery emphasizes that without places willing to welcome and train these students, their opportunities would remain severely limited. 

This sentiment is echoed by Tnisha Nation, an instructional assistant who works closely with the students. Having transitioned from a role as a bus monitor into the classroom, Nation brings both experience and empathy to her work. She speaks candidly about her motivation: a desire to build meaningful relationships with students and to embrace the challenge of working with those who have special needs.

At the thrift store, Nation has witnessed growth that is both practical and deeply human. Students who once struggled with basic life skills—such as folding or hanging clothes—begin to demonstrate competence and even initiative. Over time, familiarity breeds confidence. Tasks that once required careful prompting become second nature.

Equally significant is the environment in which this learning takes place. Nation describes her first experience at Baptist Temple as one of immediate welcome. The staff, she notes, created an atmosphere of encouragement not only for the students but also for those guiding them. “Daniel [Minister of Outreach] is awesome. He's very helpful. He made me feel comfortable because this was my first year,” she said.

This sense of belonging extends to customer interactions as well. Regular patrons often respond with warmth and patience, reinforcing the students’ sense of acceptance.

One moment stands out. A student named Kayleena, noticed a customer struggling to carry an armful of clothing. Without prompting, she stepped forward, helping transport the items. It was a small act, easily overlooked, yet it revealed something larger: the internalization of both skill and empathy. Such moments, Nation reflects, are evidence that these students are not merely learning tasks—they are becoming contributors.

Kayleena has been accepted into Project SEARCH. Her story, like many others, underscores the broader impact of the program.

What emerges from these accounts is a consistent theme: students with disabilities are often underestimated. Yet, as Hunt-Montgomery insists, they share the same aspirations as their peers. They want independence. They want community. They want meaningful work and the dignity that accompanies it. What they require is not lowered expectations, but genuine opportunity.

Baptist Temple’s role in this partnership reflects a quiet but powerful theology of presence. By opening its doors, by structuring its ministry to include rather than exclude, the church has become a place where potential is recognized and cultivated. In doing so, it participates in a work that affirms the inherent worth of every individual and redefines what is possible.

The results are visible not only in employment statistics or program outcomes, but in lives redirected and futures reclaimed. And in that sense, the partnership stands as a testament: when institutions align around purpose and compassion, even the most tentative beginnings can lead to enduring transformation.

Bigger, Better, Stronger

It is time to level up—to provide more services to more people and to break the soul-crushing cycle of generational poverty that plagues our community.

The Highland Park Community Assistance Network has operated for more than ten years as an unincorporated association and a ministry of Baptist Temple. Its most visible expressions have been the services provided at the Brunnemann Building—the thrift store, food pantry, and community garden—along with the many community ministries that operate across the Baptist Temple campus.

This network of churches and service organizations is strengthened by a growing number of off-campus partners who provide essential services and resources. It also includes an expanding base of volunteers and financial supporters who are vital to our mission.

As the needs of our community have grown, so have the resources. We have reached a turning point. We must now build capacity and expand our network. To that end, Highland Park CAN has been formally incorporated as a nonprofit corporation, and we have applied for 501(c)(3) designation with the IRS.

This step will allow us to seek funding from foundations and businesses that do not provide grants to churches. More importantly, it will enable us to expand partnerships to address both the spiritual and material poverty of our neighbors more effectively.

This ministry outpost is strategically positioned near the heart of San Antonio, with access to four interstates and two bus routes. It sits in a zip code where life expectancy is lower than in much of the city. It encompasses 80,000 square feet of ministry space and rests on a long history of faithful service, supported by a strong and growing base.

It is vital that this work continue—and that it remains what it has long been: an oasis of hope in a desert of need. 

Still Standing: A Testimony of Preservation

Three years ago, her life was interrupted by disease. Camelia “CeCe” Hargrove was diagnosed with multiple myeloma, cancer of the blood and bones. Treatment was extensive and included radiation and a stem cell transplant. During that time, she lost mobility on her left side and was unable to walk for a time. Her condition still requires ongoing medical care and medication.

Within weeks of her diagnosis, Hargrove experienced a second, devastating loss. Her son, Jarvis, was killed at the age of thirty-one. The loss was sudden, violent, and devastating. While she was fighting for her own life, she was also burying her child. Yet, Hargrove says she sensed that God had not abandoned her.

Hargrove does not describe her story in terms of certainty or resolution. She does not say she has been cured. She still takes chemotherapy medication and will do so for the rest of her life. But today she is in remission. She is walking again. She is standing again. And she believes God has preserved her for a purpose. “There were people around me who didn’t make it,” she said. “I’m still here.”

That sense of calling is what brought her back—not just to work, but to service. Hargrove has worked as a barber and stylist since 1987. Over four decades, she built her life around a skill she learned early and never abandoned. Though she spent time working in nursing while raising her children, she always returned to hair—work that allowed her to serve people directly, face to face.

She now offers haircuts and styling at the Highland Park Community Assistance Network Thrift Store. On designated days, she cuts hair for donations that support the church. At other times, she charges modest, affordable rates so that people who have gone years without professional care can come without shame or fear of cost. She gives a portion back to the church and uses the rest to cover basic needs, including medications not fully covered by insurance.

Her focus is on making a positive impact rather than earning money. “I just want to do what God gifted me to do,” she says. “If I can help somebody feel better about themselves—about their life, even for a moment—then I know I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing.”

Hargrove’s testimony is simple and steady: God did not remove every hardship, but He did not let go of her either. As long as she can stand, she intends to serve. She approaches each day with a quiet determination to use the time she has been given.

Sobriety, Baptism, and the Call to Serve

For Jarrett Leeth, sobriety was not the end of a journey but the clearing of the fog. 

Leeth’s parents were pillars of Baptist Temple. Morgan and Lynn were deeply involved in teaching, music, and community ministry. But Jarrett was drifting in the opposite direction. “I was getting out of the church scene and going my own ways. Not good ways, doing bar scenes and such and going the wrong way,” he said. What began as casual drinking hardened into habit, and habit into dependence. He would later describe those years plainly: hurting other people, hurting himself, using friends and even his parents for money, and watching alcohol quietly dismantle both his work and his integrity.

He was a licensed journeyman plumber who learned his trade in the Navy as a Seabee. Plumbing was the one steady thing in his life. But even that began to erode. After a diabetes diagnosis, he refused to change his lifestyle. Medication came; the drinking continued. He let his plumbing license lapse and tried to begin again at Home Depot, imagining a steady career until retirement. Instead, he found himself working part-time at night stocking for modest wages, barely covering fuel costs.

He pivoted again, this time into sprinkler fitting. The work suited him. The drinking did not stop.

Then came the physical consequences. Diabetes advanced. Sores appeared on his feet and would not heal. A toe was amputated and still he drank. His nights blurred into mornings as he drank himself into brief unconsciousness only to begin again. Finally, it got so bad he was hospitalized for liver failure.

That was three years ago. “I don't even have the slightest thought of alcohol in my mind anymore,” he said. 

Leeth quit cold turkey. No gradual taper. No negotiated compromise. March 14 will mark three years without a drop of alcohol. The early weeks were difficult, but the cravings eventually fell silent. Sobriety did more than restore clarity; it restored memory. With painful vividness he began to see the damage he had done—to himself, to others, to the life he might have lived.

Then he began to pray. He began to feel the Holy Spirit working in his life; a quiet conversation between him and God. He had been thinking about baptism for months before he spoke it aloud. He even considered marking the occasion on the third anniversary of his sobriety. Yet his deeper questions were not about ceremony but about direction. About following the way of Jesus.

He was baptized on February ninth, not just as a testimony of what he left behind but, also, a declaration of where he hopes to go. At fifty-five, Leeth describes himself as “wide awake.” Plumbing was his identity, the one thing he stuck to. But now, sober and alert, he feels the weight of larger questions: Where am I headed? What is the purpose of the years that remain?

He reads Scripture and seeks deeper understanding. He searches the stories for answers about life and eternity. He is seeking a way to make a difference. “Serving others, that’s probably what I'm looking for right there,” he said.

And the questions that once haunted him—about death, about direction, about meaning—are gradually giving way to something quieter and more enduring: the desire to belong to Christ and to spend what remains of his life serving others.

From Obligation to Belonging

Sean Murphy’s connection to the church began unexpectedly. Assigned community service, Murphy asked to serve somewhere close to home. A decision that brought him to the Highland Park Community Assistance Network on the BT Campus. At first, he expected to do little more than complete the required hours by helping at the thrift store and food pantry. Instead, relationships began to form. “I just kept coming and it became a regular thing,” he said.

He began attending worship and Bible study with his wife, Nancy and daughter, Makayla. They felt welcome and the Holy Spirit began to work on their hearts. Nancy and Makayla made a public commitment to Christ and were baptized last year. Nancy sings and plays guitar with the church praise band.

Murphy describes himself as a handyman, a role shaped as much by necessity as by skill. “When something broke, nobody knew how to fix it and we ended up having to pay somebody,” he said. So, he learned to work with hands.

He worked in construction until a falling beam nearly crushed his leg. “I almost lost my leg. I was real lucky,” he said

Now retired, Murphy is present at the church most days. He helps where he can—fixing appliances, tending to the landscape, assembling meal packs for the homeless, whatever is needed. He is not only a handyman, but he plays the guitar and cooks. “It's giving me a sense of purpose, and I feel like I'm actually doing something,” he said.

Deacon Vernon Liverett said, “I have seen that when Sean gets involved with something, he becomes totally committed to it. He does research and will learn new skills to become more proficient at that activity.”

Murphy’s spiritual journey has had some twists and turns. He was raised Catholic but his grandmother, while Catholic, also practiced tarot reading during the Great Depression to support her family—a detail Murphy recounts with both irony and affection. As a young adult, he explored a wide range of religious traditions, including the Mormon Church and Wicca.

When Murphy began to read a Bible provided to him be the Gideons, he came full circle to Christianity. Opening it at random, he encountered the story of Job. The suffering was so overwhelming that he could not finish the account at the time, unaware that restoration followed loss. Still, the experience marked a turning point. “Now I find myself doing it more and more with Bible study and hearing the sermons in church and just kind of being more active than I've ever been in a church setting before,” he said.

Under the gentle and steady discipleship of Minister of Outreach, Daniel Arredondo and Liverett, Murphy committed himself to following Christ and was baptized on February first this year.

Murphy does not frame his faith in doctrinal terms. He speaks of following Jesus through action—helping others, fixing what’s broken, showing up when someone needs help. For him, faith has become more present and embodied than ever before.

Church is a place where he belongs, contributes, and grows. Murphy’s faith is active and grounded in compassion. He helps because he knows what it is like to need help—and not receive it. That knowledge shapes both his work and his walk.

Rooted in Friendship, Renewed in Service

Bobann Moore returned to the church of her childhood to help serve the Tuesday night community dinner after retiring from a long career in clinical research. With newly available time, she made a decisive commitment: Tuesdays would belong to Baptist Temple.

"Bobann is a great cook but has been happy to help in any way she can,” said Kay Richardson, who leads the community dinner crew. “She preps vegetables, butters bread, cuts and plates desserts, and gets ice in cups. She also provides some of our desserts when needed. And she is always ready and willing to serve our community from the line.” 

With a constant smile on her face that reflects her inner joy, Moore makes it a point to greet and speak to community members and is an encouragement to the other volunteers. Soon her service expanded to organizing neighborhood donation drives, collecting clothing and household items, and delivering them weekly to the church’s thrift store. Her car—and often her garage—fill quickly.

Her story at Baptist Temple spans nearly a lifetime. She first arrived as a child of nine, when her family moved from Oklahoma to San Antonio. Her father, Bill Leikam, was Pastor Loren White’s college roommate at Oklahoma Baptist University and was invited to serve as BT’s minister of music while also teaching full-time at San Antonio College. 

She was baptized at age eleven by Loren White and grew within the full rhythm of church life—Sunday mornings, Sunday evenings, and Wednesday nights—at a time when the sanctuary was full and the ministries were thriving.

She was married by BT Pastor Bill Purdue, and later her daughter was dedicated at BT. Generations overlapped naturally; friendships formed in childhood extended into adulthood.

Moore is part of a group of friends who get together once a month for dinner, sustaining bonds formed in pews and classrooms long ago. They grew up at Baptist Temple and have kept ties throughout the years even though many now attend other churches. “Since seven of us still attend BT, when we get together, we talk about what's going on at BT,” said Richardson.  

Although her church home is at Cornerstone, Moore has always shown particular interest in BT's ministries to the community and the homeless. She understands that volunteer-driven ministries depend on faithfulness across generations. “I want to keep this place going as best I can,” she explained, mindful that seasons change and servants age. Her commitment is steady, practical, and deeply relational.

Her memories of Baptist Temple are shaped by leadership and mission. She recalls the warmth and kindness of Loren White, the energy and vision of Mark Newton, and the organizational strength of Bill Purdue. She remembers bold ministries—the methadone clinic, the bus ministry, and outreach to housing projects—that embodied a willingness to serve neighbors even when such efforts made some uncomfortable.

In the past, Moore had served faithfully BT for years as nursery coordinator during a season when the church overflowed with young families. She volunteered to work church events and spearheaded a fundraising drive that raised thousands of dollars to assist a family in need. Her service was usually behind the scenes, but always effective.

Today, Moore continues to encourage generosity within her circle of longtime friends—redirecting gift exchanges toward donations, organizing care bags, and quietly modeling what it means to remain invested in a church that shaped her life. Baptist Temple, she says simply, “means a whole lot to us.”

For Bobann Moore, Baptist Temple is not only a place of memory but a living mission—one worthy of time, effort, and faithful presence. “Bobann has a giving, servant's heart and I am blessed to call her my friend and serve alongside her,” said Richardson.

When the Church Becomes the Community

The Brunnemann Building at Baptist Temple carries more than a name. It carries a story. 

Kay Richardson remembers why it matters.

The building was named for her father, Max—someone who grew up in the church and spent his life helping it search for ways to connect with the surrounding neighborhood.

Once a store owned by her grandfather, the structure went through numerous changes before becoming a center of activity where food and fellowship, clothing and care, and haircuts and hugs are shared.

By the time Richardson’s father was honored with the building that bears his name, he was already deep into his illness. He never lived to see what would finally emerge there.

“I think about how thrilled he would be to see what’s happening now,” Richardson said. “The thrift store. The food pantry. The Tuesday night meals. They’re bringing in the community the way it always should have been.”

On Tuesday evenings, the church cafeteria is filled with people enjoying a free meal. For some it’s the only hot meal they get all week, for others it is a chance to sit with their family. For one working mother with five small children, it ‘s a welcome break. Volunteers bring the meals and help with the kids.

Volunteers prepare food and greet guests, but the room itself belongs to the community. On a recent Tuesday night, Richardson looked around the room and noticed something striking.

“Almost everyone there was from the community,” she said. “Not church members—except the volunteers. Just people. Some homeless. Some not. But all enjoying the food, the fellowship, and the space.”

And sometimes, something deeper happens.

That same night, a man who had suffered a stroke—unable to speak—kept pointing across the room. Richardson followed his gaze and approached the other man.

“I think this man knows you,” she said.

The recognition was immediate. The two men had been patients in the same rehabilitation facility, both recovering from strokes. They were reunited unexpectedly over a shared meal.

“These little connections keep happening,” Richardson said. “That’s when you realize what this space really is.”

The question of whether these relationships lead people to church—or to faith—is never far from the surface. Richardson speaks about it candidly.

“Yes, it matters,” Richardson said. “But we also know this is a slow process.”

The priority, she explained, is trust. For now, the work is simple and steady: Listening, trust-building, and offering unconditional love.

“We ask how we can pray for them. We read a short scripture. We invite them to services,” she said. “Sometimes they come. Some people from the community have even joined the church this year. But mostly, we’re focused on showing love—one week at a time.”

Vernon Liverette sees it from another angle. People may not realize how many hands it takes to make the ministry work: unloading food trucks, organizing shelves, sorting clothes, helping families shop, brewing coffee, welcoming strangers.
“It takes all of us,” he said. “And when we work together, that’s when we make an impact.”

For many who come through the pantry doors, Baptist Temple is not simply a church—it is the church.

“Some of them tell us, ‘You’re the only ones who care. You’re like my family,’” Liverette said. “And for some, we may be the only church they have contact with at all.”

Those served include grandparents raising grandchildren, families under financial strain, and people just needing a place to sit for a while. Everyone is met the same way—with dignity, food, and presence.

“That doesn’t happen without volunteers. No matter your role, your contribution matters. It makes a real difference,” said Liverette addressing a group at the annual volunteer Christmas party.

He paused, then smiled.

“And you should all give yourselves a round of applause.”
After years of uncertainty, Baptist Temple did not reinvent itself through strategy alone. It changed by showing up consistently—feeding people, learning names, listening to stories, and allowing the church to become part of the community it had long hoped to serve.

And in the Brunnemann Building, a legacy finally found its fulfillment.

Your contributions to our ministry helps us feed the hungry. 

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A holiday lament

"…whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me." Matthew 25:40

Two members of our extended family were found dead, along with their two dogs, due to carbon monoxide poisoning, earlier this month. Paul and Rinessa were living in a tent across the interstate from the Baptist Temple campus. They had been homeless for four days and had been among the folks who join us for our community meals on Tuesdays. They were well known among our folks who work in our Highland Park CAN ministry. The tragic deaths hit hard. Although we were unable to rehouse them, nor fix the issues that led to their eviction, we were able to give them a cup of cold water in Jesus’ name (in this case a hot meal).

Baptist Temple has a long history of working with the homeless in our city dating back to the Great Depression. During that era, we had a homeless encampment a mile to the east of our campus. Our folks would bring blankets, clothes, and food to the residents of “tent city.” A mile to our north, we operated a soup kitchen on Walters and Vine.

Today, homelessness and poverty have moved closer to the church, and we provide food and clothing through our Highland Park CAN (community assistance network) ministry located on our campus. Both physical and spiritual needs are met by our team of caring ministers. On Tuesday nights we provide a free hot meal to everyone.

The 2024 San Antonio homeless count revealed 3372 homeless people, 75% were sheltered, leaving 882 on the streets. In 2023, 332 homeless people died, including a former member who was found dead in the apartment that had been provided for him. The issue is complex and there are many smart people working on it from different angles. For our part, we will feed the hungry, clothe the naked, invite the stranger, and, of course, offer a cup of cold water in Jesus’ name.

“For there will never cease to be poor in the land. Therefore I command you, ‘You shall open wide your hand to your brother, to the needy and to the poor, in your land.’” Deuteronomy 15: 11

Click here to donate now to support our ministry to the poor in our community.