From Pain to Praise: Steve Workman's 71 Years of Extraordinary Faithfulness

When Steve Workman tells people at 71 that he's not retired, he's "retired but refired," he means it. The executive director of Christian Community Outreach Ministries for 25 years now leads the Barnabas Ministry, sending daily scripture encouragement to over 500 people — a number he expects will reach 5,000 by December. He mentors 300 men. He runs Brother Night gatherings where men share testimonies over meals. And he's writing three books while opening his home as "Triage Village" for men healing from divorce or loss.

"I feel kind of like Moses," Steve says. "He had three 40-year seasons, and I've had almost two. Now that I'm 71, I'm closing in on finishing my second one."

But Steve's story doesn't begin with ministry success. It begins with pain that God would eventually transform into praise.

When Pain Becomes the Training Ground

Steve came to Christ at seven years old, but his teen years were marked by volatility and abuse. His mother had married a man whose anger and violence created a dangerous home environment. Yet even as a young believer, Steve sensed God's call on his life — not just to survive, but to minister.

"The wild thing is, after receiving Christ, I knew that his abuse was really from a fallen state and from an angry state, because his first wife had died of cancer and he had two small kids," Steve recalls. "God used me to really love on him and answer him even in the middle of his verbal abuse and sometimes physical abuse."

That season became Steve's "School of Hard Knocks" — the education he would later list on his ministry application. For 27 years, he worked in the printing business, using it as a training ground to minister to everyone who walked through the door. But God was preparing him for something more.

The Power of One Simple Invitation

The breakthrough came through obedience Steve didn't want to give. When his mentor Dwight Stone was invited to speak at a Christian Businessmen's Dinner, the Lord told Steve to take his stepfather Ray — the man who had abused him for years.

"I said, 'Lord, I really don't want him in my car,'" Steve admits. "He said, 'Look, you have to deal with your unforgiveness, and you take him. He's ready to be invited.'"

Before Steve could finish the invitation, Ray said yes. At the dinner, something shifted. On the drive home, Ray grew quiet, then finally spoke: "What that man was talking about, I don't have."

Would you like to receive Christ?" Steve asked. Ray said yes. "He's been knocking at my door so loudly.

They were dining together when Ray opened his heart to Jesus — a perfect picture of Revelation 3:20, where Christ says He stands at the door and knocks, ready to come in and dine with anyone who opens.

Ray received Christ in the car that night. What followed was even more stunning: his entire family came to Christ one by one. Forty years after Ray's son Glenn had tried to kill Steve and his mother with a gun while drunk — leading to a restraining order and decades of separation — Glenn ran up to Steve at Ray's funeral and threw his arms around him.

"Ain't Jesus good?" Glenn shouted, hugging Steve so hard he nearly broke his rib. Glenn had been saved in jail and was now a brother in Christ.

"What the devil meant for bad, God turns around for His glory," Steve says, quoting Genesis 50:20. "That's really the heartbeat of my testimony."

Three Angels and a Clear Calling

During this same season, God brought Lynn into Steve's life. They met at church, became prayer friends after both ended three-year engagements the same week, and went on a two-week mission trip to Manhattan Bible Church in New York City — where they had their first date.

On that trip, Steve bought an ice cream bar with the last money he had and shared it with three kids playing ball. He opened to Psalm 34:8 — "Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good" — and led them to Christ over that ice cream bar.

When the church that night asked who had been part of the teenagers being saved, Steve raised his hand. The pastor, Tom Harris, stopped mid-sentence and said, "Time out, time out. You're sharing, but I don't understand. We need an interpreter here" — because of Steve's Southern accent. The room erupted in laughter, creating what Steve calls "a love flow," and that night several hundred kids out of the 800 present gave their lives to Christ.

God was showing Steve what mealtime ministry could look like: simple, relational, Spirit-led.

A few months later, after Lynne had been praying for nine years for Steve to enter full-time ministry, they visited the Billy Graham Cove. In the prayer chapel, Steve wrote out a prayer request: "Lord, here's my life. Take my life. Let it be consecrated unto Thee. Here I am, send me."

It was 5:05 p.m. The facility had closed at 5:00, but the door stood open. When Steve walked back out, the door was shut. No one was around.

"He opens up doors no man can open, and He closes doors," Steve says, referencing Revelation 3.

Two weeks later, Christian Community Outreach Ministries offered Steve the position of executive director. But Lynne wasn't sure yet. "You be praying for me that the Lord confirms it to me," she told him.

The confirmation came at a drama called The Rapture in South Carolina. After the performance, a man from the choir named Shay walked 100 yards through a crowd of 1,500 people, made a beeline for Steve and Lynne, and said, "God told me to pray for you."

Shay prayed, then delivered a word: "God knows where you've been and all you've been through. You've been through the school of hard knocks. God is going to use every circumstance and everything you've been through for His glory, to see people come to Him and be built up in Him. Don't compromise. Don't take your eyes off Him."

Then Shay turned and walked away. Steve and Lynne wrote him a letter of thanks. It came back — Shay had left that night and couldn't be located.

"He was one of the angels who ministered to me," Steve says. "That was a big one because it turned the tide for our marriage and our ministries."

Team Jesus: A Marriage Built on Mission

For 34 years, Steve and Lynne were what he calls "Team Jesus." Lynn was an educator, a prayer warrior, and eventually Steve's office manager at Christian Community Outreach Ministries when she retired in 2007. Together they served for 25 years, partnering with Dr. Irish Barrett in counseling ministry — Steve working with men, Dr. Barrett with women. Dr. Barrett alone served over 5,000 women during that time.

Steve's approach was simple: be a community missionary. He believes every believer is called to share Christ wherever they go, whether over an ice cream bar, a meal, or a cup of coffee.

"Another word for that is found in 2 Corinthians 5. It's called ambassador," Steve explains. "But I think a modern term would be community missionary. Just share Christ wherever you go and let Him work. You'll be amazed at what He will do through you in a short amount of time."

Through mealtime ministry and simple availability, Steve saw lives transformed. Six families were saved from divorce through the Barnabas Ministry. Men found hope, freedom, and a path forward. The ripple effect continues today through Brother Night gatherings and a men's ministry called Band of Brothers that has ministered to roughly 5,000 men over 13 years.

Covenant Love in the Hardest Season

Then came the test that would define the depth of Steve and Lynn's vows.

In 2020, shortly after receiving a vaccination, Lynne began showing signs of dementia. She had cared for three family members with the disease — her mother, aunt, and uncle — and now faced it herself. For the next five years, Steve walked with her through the valley, learning what it means to love in sickness and in health, for better or worse.

During Lynne's battle with dementia, Steve also fought his own: double ear cancer. Basal cell cancer on his left ear required removing part of the ear. Then cancer inside his right ear was misdiagnosed for three years. A five-hour Mohs surgery didn't get it all, requiring a specialist to go behind the ear and reshape it. One night, a blood vessel burst in Steve's right ear while he and Lynne watched The Andy Griffith Show. By the time he reached the emergency room, a large yellow beach towel was soaked solid red. Doctors worked four hours to stop the bleeding — and never had to give him a single transfusion.

"I shouldn't even be sitting here talking to you right now," Steve says quietly.

In the final month of Lynne's life, Steve cried out to God for one gift: fifteen minutes where she would remember him and he could thank her for being his wife.

The answer came in a nursing home room. Lynne, who hadn't recognized Steve in four years, looked up and said, "Steve, where have you been?"

Steve knelt beside her. "I prayed last night. I cried out to God to give me 15 minutes to tell you I love you and thank you for being my wife."

Lynne grabbed his coat, kissed him twice, and said what she always said: "I love you more."

Exactly 15 minutes later, she lay down and looked up at the ceiling. Two weeks later, on Steve's 70th birthday, the nurses said Lynne could no longer move or speak. Steve held her hand and prayed her home. As he prayed, she reached up — something the nurses said was impossible — and grabbed his hand.

"The Lord said, 'It's okay. I'm going to totally heal her. I'm going to bring her home,'" Steve recalls. Lynne went to be with Jesus on January 25, 2025.

Refired, Not Retired

Fifteen months after Lynne's homegoing, Steve's pace hasn't slowed. If anything, it's intensified.

The Barnabas Ministry sends daily scripture to over 500 people and is on track to reach 5,000. Brother Night gatherings continue, giving men a place to share their testimonies over meals. Band of Brothers meets every Tuesday — a group that started 13 years ago to encourage a pastor in depression and has now ministered to thousands. Steve mentors 300 men by appointment, meeting them early in the morning, late at night, or over meals as the Holy Spirit directs.

His home is now Triage Village, a place where men healing from divorce or loss can find refuge and restoration. He's writing three books: Acronym Man, featuring 40 chapters of faith-centered acronyms like FAITH (Forsaking All, I Trust Him) and SIN (Self-Inflicted Nonsense); Overcoming the Spirit of Dementia, with a first chapter titled "How to Call Dementia Your Friend"; and The ABCs of Light That Lead to the D, C, Fulfilled, unpacking how God's authoritative word, our identity as born-again believers, and Christ's intercession work together to build us up in our most holy faith.

His daughter Amber runs The White Butterfly Mission, ministering to parents who have lost children to drugs — a calling born from the murder of Steve's granddaughter eight years ago.

"What the devil meant for bad, God turns around for His glory," Steve says again, his voice steady. "Genesis 50:20 is really the heartbeat of my testimony."

The Legacy of a Community Missionary

Steve's favorite scripture is Hebrews 10:23-25, which he calls the heartbeat of all he does: "Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful. And let us consider how to stir one another to love and good deeds, not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as is the manner of some, but exhorting one another so much the more as we see the day approaching."

That's the invitation Steve extends to every leader, every professional, every believer who wonders if their story matters: Don't forsake assembling. Don't hold back your testimony. Stir one another to love and good deeds.

"We don't hear enough testimony in church," Steve says. "We're changing that. We're letting men know, prepare your testimony and share it with your neighbors, but also come and share it at a restaurant with guys you don't know yet. When you come together and testify, that stirs your fire."

Steve is living proof that pain becomes praise when surrendered to God. That the School of Hard Knocks produces the most effective ministers. That covenant love endures through dementia, cancer, loss, and grief. That a community missionary with an ice cream bar can change eternity.

I feel like Caleb," Steve says. "Remember Caleb got a fresh anointing in his 80s. Well, I believe God's giving me one in my 70s.

At 71, Steve Workman isn't winding down. He's just getting started on his third 40-year season — refired, not retired, and ready to see what God will do next.

What about you? What pain is God waiting to turn into praise in your life? What testimony are you holding back that could stir someone else's fire? What if you became a community missionary this week — sharing Christ over coffee, over a meal, in the ordinary moments where eternity breaks through?

Steve would tell you: Don't wait. Just show up. Let God work. You'll be amazed at what He will do through you in a short amount of time.