February 22. Scott Schwinn. Scott is like many men. He cares about his wife. He cares about his children. And he cares about being a man he can admire. These strong values rarely go untested, and Scott is no exception there either. When the test came, Scott had a choice to make. Here’s what happened.
It’s not what happens to you, but what happens in you that truly matters.
Scott moaned. Intense abdominal pain curled him tighter on the bed. This was the fourth episode of acute liver-related disease in three months. This time, it resulted in infection, and Scott became septic—a life-threatening infection spread by means of the bloodstream.
Scott’s wife Cinnamon rushed him to the hospital, where doctors gave him IV antibiotics and cleaned him out. But no one knew how many more times they could successfully do this.
Scott’s body was developing a resistance to antibiotics. “Next time could be the last time,” the doctor said. He put Scott on a liver-transplant list, but the wait could take years.
A year later, time was running out. Scott was bumped higher on the list, and his six children—ages two to nineteen—were scared.
Then tragedy struck the family—again. On May 8, 2015, Scott’s oldest child Autumn was in a near-fatal car accident. Traumatic brain injury kept Autumn in the ICU for weeks, a specialty hospital for a month, and then in outpatient therapy.
The family focused on Autumn—but in the background, Scott’s life clock ticked off minute by minute, time running out.
That fall—when no deceased donor had become available—the doctor suggested they look for a live donor. But that procedure was risky. Two years before, a donor had died.
Now, discouragement hounded Scott. Even if someone were willing to take the risk, it had to be someone healthy of the right size and blood type. Scott and Cinnamon discussed his possible death. Though she homeschooled their children, Cinnamon returned to her previous career. If Scott died, she could support the children.
They battled fear, anger, and bitterness. Scott pondered James’s words in the Bible. James said when trials came, consider it joy. Trials developed maturity. A friend said Scott could let life happen to him or for him. Scott had a choice. He could be angry and let life happen to him, or he could allow life to work for him. It was all about mindset.
The trials could mature him or leave him bitter. Scott determined to be faithful to God until his last day. He prayed for maturity to face his struggle head on and grow from it.
As Scott faced the “valley of the shadow of death,” Psalm 23 became precious. He asked Jesus to help him “lie down in green pastures” and to lead him “beside quiet waters.” And God comforted him.
Scott believed God wanted him to live and raise his children, but he surrendered an unknown future into God’s hands.
“The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside quiet waters. He restores my soul; He guides me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake” (Psalm 23:1-3 NASB).
Then Scott’s friend Chris realized he had Scott’s blood type. He offered his liver. “If I’m able to help you, why wouldn’t I?”
Scott was beyond grateful. Chris went through testing. Hope grew. In February of 2016, after a two-year wait for a liver, doctors declared a match. It felt miraculous. They scheduled the surgery for May 17, still hoping for a cadaver liver.
On May 4, Scott was in the hospital for the second time in a month. The surgeon entered his room. “I have good news. We have a cadaver liver available.” They discussed risks of surgery so close to an episode of infection, but the opportunity outweighed the risks.
Then the doctor surprised Scott with a new twist. He drew a liver on the whiteboard. It had two blood supplies. He drew a line. It could be cut right there—and a little girl in Children’s Hospital could receive a liver too. Would Scott share?
Echoing Chris’s words to him, Scott said, “Why wouldn’t I?”
Twenty-four hours later, Scott—and a child across town—had new livers.
The Schwinns celebrated. But they knew another family’s loss had given Scott life. All six children wrote the parents of the twenty-one-year-old donor. They said “thank you” for their dad’s life.
Which do you choose—passive bitterness or a determination to face your circumstances, trust God, and grow? It’s not what happens to you, but what happens in you that truly matters.
Based on an interview with Scott Schwinn on September 30, 2019.
Story read by Joel Carpenter