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Pastor finds niche with deaf Baptist church | www.azstarnet.com ®
Many church leaders talk about their spiritual journeys in terms of hearing a calling, but that's not exactly the case with Ronnie King.
He expresses his metamorphosis as being touched in the heart.
"It touched my heart that a lot of people don't know the Lord," he signed in an interview while his wife, Carol, translated.
As pastor of Quail Run Deaf Baptist Church — he believes it's the only all-deaf church in the Tucson area — he doesn't "hear" anything at all, though he feels quite a bit.
Married for 24 years to Carol, 48, who is hearing-impaired and whose family owns the Adair group of funeral homes, King worked for a time as an embalmer.
He and his wife attended churches that offered deaf ministry — that is, offering translation during hearing church services and sometimes special activities for deaf members of the congregation.
They began helping with deaf ministry.
Eventually, King ran the deaf ministry for Desert Springs Baptist Church, which meets at Thornydale Elementary School, 7751 N. Oldfather Drive.
King was in charge of a separate service for the deaf, meeting at Adair's Avalon Chapel, 8090 N. Northern Ave.
Pastor Gary Berry, founder of Desert Springs Baptist, encouraged King to start his own, separate, all-deaf church.
King, 46, began attending a three-year Bible program at Sword Deaf College in Mason, Ohio. Traveling back and forth between Tucson and Ohio, he has been taking classes that keep him away for six weeks to several months at a time and plans to graduate this year.
Meanwhile, on July 21, 2005, King led his first Quail Run Deaf Baptist Church service with seven people in attendance.
"It was like, 'OK, what do we do next?' " Carol King said.
They initially met at the Avalon Chapel but have since moved to Desert Sunset Funeral Home, 3081 W. Orange Grove Road, also owned by the Adairs.
Desert Sunset is generally closed on weekends and therefore is almost always available on Sundays, Ronnie King said.
"If we have our own deaf church; it's easier to understand, because this is our own language," he signed.
Just as Spanish, French or any other spoken language is a language unto itself, so, too, is sign language.
It's not just English spoken with hands, King said.
Therefore, as with any other spoken language, much is lost in translation during hearing church services, he said.
In an all-deaf service, he doesn't have to interpret and preach simultaneously, he said. Instead, he can focus on communicating his message.
Niece Hillary Adair, 27, works at Desert Springs and has been around for some of the deaf church services.
She said she knows it sounds strange that a joyful worship service would be held at a funeral home, "but it's family, and you have to support your family and what they do. It's wonderful."
Even though the congregation is deaf, that does not mean their services are silent, she said.
"You'd think the deaf would be quiet, but they're not," she said. They laugh occasionally, and when conversations turn emotional, the sound of their hands —skin quickly hitting skin — is unmistakable.
King glows when his wife talks about him as purely an American Sign Language signer. A version of sign language blends English with hand movements — using the signs for letters of the alphabet in combination with traditional ASL movements — but King does not support that, Carol King said.
The biggest challenge in his ministry probably is that he doesn't have much freedom to travel and spread the word, King said.
Pastors able to speak and hear can easily travel from one area to another and preach at almost any church.
Being deaf limits that, King said.
An Internet search revealed about 200 deaf churches scattered across the United States.
There are five listings in the Phoenix area, just one in Tucson.
King said his dream is for his church to have its own home, in its own building, with its own set of ministries, including youth groups and a "hearing ministry," where hearing visitors could attend church with their deaf family members and listen to a translator talking into a microphone.
With the congregation up to about 25 members now, King said he has a long way to go but is happy with the start. "We're so blessed to have a fellowship."
Many church leaders talk about their spiritual journeys in terms of hearing a calling, but that's not exactly the case with Ronnie King.
He expresses his metamorphosis as being touched in the heart.
"It touched my heart that a lot of people don't know the Lord," he signed in an interview while his wife, Carol, translated.
As pastor of Quail Run Deaf Baptist Church — he believes it's the only all-deaf church in the Tucson area — he doesn't "hear" anything at all, though he feels quite a bit.
Married for 24 years to Carol, 48, who is hearing-impaired and whose family owns the Adair group of funeral homes, King worked for a time as an embalmer.
He and his wife attended churches that offered deaf ministry — that is, offering translation during hearing church services and sometimes special activities for deaf members of the congregation.
They began helping with deaf ministry.
Eventually, King ran the deaf ministry for Desert Springs Baptist Church, which meets at Thornydale Elementary School, 7751 N. Oldfather Drive.
King was in charge of a separate service for the deaf, meeting at Adair's Avalon Chapel, 8090 N. Northern Ave.
Pastor Gary Berry, founder of Desert Springs Baptist, encouraged King to start his own, separate, all-deaf church.
King, 46, began attending a three-year Bible program at Sword Deaf College in Mason, Ohio. Traveling back and forth between Tucson and Ohio, he has been taking classes that keep him away for six weeks to several months at a time and plans to graduate this year.
Meanwhile, on July 21, 2005, King led his first Quail Run Deaf Baptist Church service with seven people in attendance.
"It was like, 'OK, what do we do next?' " Carol King said.
They initially met at the Avalon Chapel but have since moved to Desert Sunset Funeral Home, 3081 W. Orange Grove Road, also owned by the Adairs.
Desert Sunset is generally closed on weekends and therefore is almost always available on Sundays, Ronnie King said.
"If we have our own deaf church; it's easier to understand, because this is our own language," he signed.
Just as Spanish, French or any other spoken language is a language unto itself, so, too, is sign language.
It's not just English spoken with hands, King said.
Therefore, as with any other spoken language, much is lost in translation during hearing church services, he said.
In an all-deaf service, he doesn't have to interpret and preach simultaneously, he said. Instead, he can focus on communicating his message.
Niece Hillary Adair, 27, works at Desert Springs and has been around for some of the deaf church services.
She said she knows it sounds strange that a joyful worship service would be held at a funeral home, "but it's family, and you have to support your family and what they do. It's wonderful."
Even though the congregation is deaf, that does not mean their services are silent, she said.
"You'd think the deaf would be quiet, but they're not," she said. They laugh occasionally, and when conversations turn emotional, the sound of their hands —skin quickly hitting skin — is unmistakable.
King glows when his wife talks about him as purely an American Sign Language signer. A version of sign language blends English with hand movements — using the signs for letters of the alphabet in combination with traditional ASL movements — but King does not support that, Carol King said.
The biggest challenge in his ministry probably is that he doesn't have much freedom to travel and spread the word, King said.
Pastors able to speak and hear can easily travel from one area to another and preach at almost any church.
Being deaf limits that, King said.
An Internet search revealed about 200 deaf churches scattered across the United States.
There are five listings in the Phoenix area, just one in Tucson.
King said his dream is for his church to have its own home, in its own building, with its own set of ministries, including youth groups and a "hearing ministry," where hearing visitors could attend church with their deaf family members and listen to a translator talking into a microphone.
With the congregation up to about 25 members now, King said he has a long way to go but is happy with the start. "We're so blessed to have a fellowship."