I’ve never been one to struggle with words.
I’ve spent years preaching, sharing testimonies, communicating publicly. I’ve always enjoyed the challenge of finding the right combination of words to meet the gravity of whatever moment is facing you…whether that’s hope, challenge, or redemption.
But there have been a few moments in my life where words have been difficult.
The first was in 2004 when I came home after a several-day binge in the middle of my addiction years. I walked in the door and was met with my family, grandma, mom, dad, grandpa, and they did the whole intervention thing. It was a divine moment because they had finally had enough.
I realized what my life had become. I walked into the backyard and broke down crying. The only words I could eventually put together were: “Yeah. I’ll go.”
Words were hard in that moment.
A couple years later, I learned something that made me speechless again. At that same moment my parents were confronting me, worried about helping me, they were struggling financially. They had written a check to the Teen Challenge center in New York, the last couple hundred dollars they had. They kept calling to find out when the director was going to cash it.
I found out later he never did. It wasn’t just the director’s grace – it was also my parents’ decision to give when it was hard.
There weren’t many words to say in that moment either.
My father, Rev. John Franich, went home to be with Jesus on Christmas Day.
For over 20 years, he served as the founder and director of Shenandoah Valley Teen Challenge. But his story didn’t start in ministry. It started in a car dealership.
Dad spent 17 years in the automobile business, working six-day weeks with 10-12 hour days. Sundays were his day to sleep in while my mother took the kids to church. For 25 to 30 years, he had no religion, no Christianity, nothing.
Then one Mother’s Day, my mother came home from church completely different. Something had changed in her. She finally convinced him to visit. That Sunday, the pastor made an altar call.
Dad jumped up and accepted the Lord that day.
Not long after, while in Tulsa pursuing Bible school, he got an infection in his leg that nearly killed him. It left him with vein insufficiency and forced him out of the car business at 43 years old. My mother went to work to support the family. Dad went on disability.
While on disability, he felt he needed to go back to school. He needed to do something with the rest of his life. So this man – who never had a high school diploma until he was 42 years old – started taking courses at the local college. He pursued a bachelor’s degree in psychology at Liberty University, then a master’s degree.
He noticed his pastor was always busy counseling people about marriage problems and addictions. He felt the Lord telling him, “Maybe that’s what you need to do for the rest of your life.”
Then one Sunday, a group from Teen Challenge came to his church and shared testimonies. One man – an insurance executive who had lost everything – told how God was doing the work of his life through the program.
Dad looked up and said, “What a way to help people. Just to help a few people get their life back together.”
That became his mission statement for the next 20 years.
But here’s what most people don’t know: before Dad ever helped a stranger through Teen Challenge, he helped his own family.
In 2005, I went to Teen Challenge in New York. Not as staff. As a student. Later on my sister went. God used the very thing Dad was trying to build to put our family back together.
At the time, Dad didn’t even have a residential program yet. He was running a one-room referral office in Staunton, making phone calls, connecting people to programs, believing God could use him to help a few people.
And one of those people was me.
Dad’s obedience to God’s call didn’t just help strangers. It broke a cycle in our family. Addiction doesn’t just affect one person..it affects generations. Without intervention, without someone willing to do the hard, often invisible work of helping people rebuild, it destroys families.
Dad stopped that cycle.
Not because he had all the answers. Not because he was perfect. But because he said yes to God. And he didn’t quit for 20 years.
Another moment when words were difficult: 2008, in a little room off to the left of the stage at Calvary Assembly of God. I was in a tuxedo. Dad was standing across from me in his suit with his Bible, getting ready to officiate my wedding ceremony.
Words were hard then too.
About a year later, when my wife and I got to tell everyone we were having a daughter and Dad came to the hospital to hold Chloe for the first time, those words were challenging. What do you say?
A couple years later, that repeated when Lydia came into this world.
And this last week, standing over Dad on Christmas Day, getting the opportunity to say goodbye. What do I say that meets the gravity of that moment?
As I got ready to go to the hospital, the Lord gave me Luke 15. I stood over Dad and read the story of the prodigal son. I was reminded of his story and his decision to not meet me with judgment when I was at my lowest.
I realized: all those moments where I was speechless existed because Dad threw a party when I came home.
Today, I’m married to a beautiful woman. My kids love Jesus and loved their grandparents deeply. At Dad’s memorial service this Friday, my 16-year-old daughter will stand up and lead a worship song before the sermon.
That doesn’t happen without Dad answering the call.
My kids didn’t grow up in the chaos I caused growing up. They grew up knowing Jesus. Knowing stability. Knowing what it looks like when a man finishes the race well.
That’s the fruit. That’s the legacy.
Over his 20 years at Shenandoah Valley Teen Challenge, Dad helped over 700 people go through the residential program.
But Dad never wanted a mega ministry. He just wanted to help a few people get their lives back together.
In one of the last interviews we did with him in 2023, I asked how he wanted to be remembered. He said, “I never thought of myself in any of it. People tell me I make a difference in their lives. I know it was God doing it, not me. I’m just the vessel.”
That was Dad. Uncomfortable with credit. Quick to deflect. Deeply humble. But faithful.
One of the things I’m learning in this season is that there is immense beauty in the messiness of life, the moments when you can’t tell where one thing starts and another ends. I’ve long realized it’s an illusion that we can neatly package things up.
The greatest writers in Scripture never tried to sanitize life. David dances before the ark and then rages at God in the Psalms. Jesus weeps at Lazarus’s tomb and then calls him out of it. Paul writes his deepest theology from a prison cell, rejoicing and pleading in the same breath.
They left the raw edges showing because that’s where God shows up most undeniably.
Dad didn’t build a mega ministry. He helped a few people get their lives back together.
And I’m one of them.
The cycle broke. The mission succeeded.
Well done, Dad. Well done.
Rev. John Marco Franich Jr. (September 15, 1947 – December 25, 2024) is survived by his wife Novella, his children, and numerous grandchildren. This tribute is also feature on the Shenandoah Valley Teen Challenge blog and official memorial page: svtc.info/johnfranich.
About the Author
Justin Franich is a former Teen Challenge graduate who now serves as Director of Shenandoah Valley Teen Challenge, the ministry his father founded over 20 years ago. He is a husband, father of four, and hosts the “Rebuilding Life After Addiction” podcast.
