By Manning Brown
On Sunday, September 28, my community became “that” community—one shattered by senseless violence and death.
That morning, Thomas Sanford drove his vehicle into a church in Grand Blanc, Michigan, then he opened fire on the congregation and set the building ablaze. In less than five minutes the gunman and four congregants were dead; numerous others were injured.
Just as my own church’s worship service was closing in Grand Blanc, I received a text from our campus director stating that there had been a shooting at a nearby church. Our security team ensured that all the safety protocols were put into action. By the time our service was over a few minutes later, word had already spread on social media about what had happened.
My wife and I stepped out of the building, and we could see smoke coming from the church where the shooting had occurred. About 30 minutes later, I was contacted by our police department’s dispatch, asking that chaplains report to the scene of the attack.
I quickly changed into my uniform and drove to the scene. The road near the church was filled with emergency response vehicles of all types from multiple agencies—federal, state, county, city. Even there, more than 150 yards away from the building, the smoke was thick. After showing my badge, I was instructed to park and walk to the church property. When I got there, authorities saw “Chaplain” on my shirt and waived me in beyond the yellow tape.
I was nervous, not from a safety standpoint, but rather asking myself, “How could I help?”
The body of one victim was to my left, and off to my right was the body of the gunman. I reported to the command post and offered to do whatever needed to be done.
The Grand Blanc Township Police Department has two other chaplains, both endorsed by Regular Baptist Chaplaincy. We all arrived about the same time. We decided the best thing to do was just walk around the area and offer to listen, get water, or do whatever else we could.
Shortly thereafter, one of the fire chiefs asked if I would talk with some of the firefighters. Two of them, struggling with the idea of “Could I have done more?” just needed to talk about what they had seen. The cries for help were still ringing in their ears.
I listened for as long as they needed to talk and assured them that they had done everything they could. But I also told them that this will be a pivotal moment in their lives. It will be with them for the rest of their lives. I encouraged them to talk about it in the coming days and weeks and to take advantage of the numerous resources available for counseling and support. I also told them that the other chaplains and I were available, and if there was something we could do, we could be contacted through dispatch.
The rest of the afternoon we continued being a ministry of presence—offering to get water or food, listen, and just be there. Early that evening, the Salvation Army and other local establishments dropped off food, water, soda, and just about anything else needed to give rest and comfort to the hundreds of first responders on the scene.
By the time we left, many of the responding agencies had been released, and a more permanent incident center had been established. We broke for the evening.
The next morning I was contacted by dispatch to assist one of our uniformed officers in the first of two death notifications at a home. During the drive there, I again asked myself what I could do and prayed for the Lord’s wisdom and direction. Upon arriving at the house with my Bible in hand, we rang the doorbell, and behind the door I could hear, “The police are here.”
Although they knew their loved one was one of the victims, there was still the shock of hearing it confirmed. We told them what to expect, and I prayed with and for them.
Later that afternoon, another positive ID was confirmed, and we made our second death notification. Again the family knew, but it was as if the last glint of hope had been taken away. I prayed with them and offered that if there was anything I could do, to not hesitate in reaching out.
I was emotionally spent by the time I got home. As police chaplains, we help with things like death notifications, but primarily we provide counsel, comfort, and care to first responders. Shootings are particularly traumatic, and it can sometimes take weeks for signs of stress to show. Chaplains are first responders’ confidential ear. What is said in the patrol car (or wherever) is held with strict confidentiality. We report to no one. Having a relationship of trust is critical.
In the days after the tragedy unfolded, the police department scheduled formal debrief, counseling, and support sessions for all involved and their families. The chaplains were asked to be a part. And one afternoon I stopped by the department to see how everyone was doing. An officer looked at me and said, “Please, do more ride-alongs. We need you with us on patrol.”
I am reminded of Isaiah 6:8: “I heard the voice of the Lord saying, ‘Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?’ Then I said, ‘Here I am! Send me.’”
I have been the director and endorser of Regular Baptist Chaplaincy since 2015 and a chaplain since 2020. Nothing prepares you for mass casualties like a shooting. It is a reminder that we live in a fallen world, seeking truth—truth found only in the saving grace of Jesus Christ.
The Grand Blanc community has come together, as communities do in times of tragedy. My prayer is that through this, the gospel can be shared and firmly embraced.
Manning Brown is director and endorser of Regular Baptist Chaplaincy and a chaplain with the Grand Blanc Township, Mich., Police Department.
In the photo, Manning Brown and his wife, Jennifer, (center) and the two other Grand Blanc Township, Mich., police chaplains, Joe Wilson (left) and Jon Earnhart, along with their wives, attend a memorial October 7 honoring the victims and survivors of the September 28 shooting.
