An Interview With Audrey Broggi from Mothering From the Heart, Part 1

I am excited to have a very special guest on the blog for the next two weeks for an extended interview. Audrey Broggi is the wife of Dr. Carl Broggi (from Search the Scriptures ministries and the Pastor of Community Bible Church in Beaufort S.C.). Audrey leads the women's ministry there -- Mothering from the Heart -- a ministry that has greatly helped and encouraged me on my own mothering pilgrimage. When I wrote to Audrey, she graciously agreed to do this interview, which I pray will be a great blessing to those who read it. She has been a role-model in my life for her strong and uncompromising stand on Biblical womanhood and parenting. I encourage you to glean from her insights and her Godly, encouraging wisdom from God's Word. 

To begin, would you tell us a little about yourself, including when you became a believer and how your relationship with the Lord Jesus has shaped your life and thinking? 

I was raised in a Christian home, my father was a pastor. Every Wednesday night, two times on Sunday and at home, I sat under his teaching. As I grew up under my parents’ guidance, I began to understand that people are sinners. You know, corporately, out there – big groups of people are sinners. But there came a time in my life – I call it a defining moment - when I was gripped with the fact that it wasn’t just people “in general” who were sinners – but that I, Audrey Hill McKay, was a sinner. This was one of those times in my life - some moments in life are, well, indelibly marked, and you never forget – It was Christmas time and I wanted a baby bright doll. I handled Christmas as a child by wishing for toys, going to see Santa, and then writing a letter and making long lists for him which I would leave on “my chair” in the living room. I also set out cookies and milk for him and I hung every red sock I could find on the mantle. And I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned and woke up in the middle of the night. The Baby Bright Christmas was no exception. I woke up and ran to the door of the living room and there I could see her – Baby Bright. I don’t know if my sister had asked for Baby Bright or not but she had one too.Well, I ran back to my room and shook my sister – “Baby Bright! Baby Bright! She’s here – come see, come see!!” My sister was not interested in the middle of the night – I tried then to wake up my two brothers – but they weren’t interested either. Well, I didn’t want to be up by myself but I sure wanted to hold Baby Bright. So I ran back to the living room and took her out of her box and brought her to bed with me. I don’t know – sometime later – I woke up and tried to wake my sister again but she was still not interested. That’s when I decided to go do Christmas toys by myself. At some point, though, I took a look at my Baby Bright doll and to my horror – her beautiful yellow hair was all messed up. I guess sleeping with her was not a good idea. I tried to fix her hair but couldn’t. Then a thought occurred to me. My sister’s brand new doll still in the box with the hair all in place. So in the quiet of the night – I switched the dolls. No one saw me do it. But I felt so guilty. Well, when my sister finally got up and took a look at her doll, she looked at me and shouted, “You switched the dolls!” “No, I didn’t!” I was not only a thief but a liar. I’m telling you – If I had ever doubted I was a sinner before, I didn’t anymore. I knew that I was a sinner.Now, I was a sinner before that event. But this is the moment when God began to show me that I was a sinner. Not just people in general, but me. Then some time later and I don’t know how much later – what month – or how much time elapsed but sometime later, I was sitting in church as I did every week. I don’t remember what my dad was preaching on that Sunday but I do remember the end of the sermon when he starting preaching the cross and why Jesus died. For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life. This was the day God opened my eyes to understand to that Jesus didn’t just die on the cross for sinners in general – but that He died on the cross for me personally. I could believe in Him and He would save me. His death paid for my sin. His resurrection proved it. I didn’t understand everything but I knew I needed a Savior, I knew I wasn’t good enough – I was a thief and a liar and I was a stubborn girl. But Jesus died for me and I trusted in Him. I don’t know how old I was, I don’t know if my parents noticed a difference in me – but I did.

 Were you raised in a Godly family? How did your upbringing aid you in your walk with the Savior? 

As I grew up, though, I kind of drifted along. Ups and downs. A roller coaster spiritual life. I was thankful for my salvation but I must honestly say I did not know how to experience a consistent walk with God. I wanted to share Christ with friends at school. I was afraid, though. Well, another defining moment in my life occurred when I was 19 years old, a sophomore at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. I had a close male friend, not a boyfriend but someone with whom I connected after going away to college. This boy, I’ll call him John, and I had attended junior high together, but I had moved away. Feeling rather lonely when I first got to UNC, John sought me out and I soon discovered I had a friend who lived across the quad from me. We did a lot together our freshman year and then we went our separate ways for summer break. After we returned to school in the fall, I saw John almost every day during the month of September. Most days, we talked about school, our studies, and our old friends. We got tickets for those friends to come to the UNC/South Carolina football game. We laughed a lot and I always looked forward to being with him. I especially remember one defining day, late in September, when we met out in the quad between our dorms. We sat in the grass and talked for two long hours. At first the conversation was light and fun but then John began to open his heart and share some personal things with me. His look turned solemn as he told me how he spent his weekends. He was an excellent sober student during the week, but he transformed into a drunken slobbering fool on the weekends. And for some reason, although we had never talked about the deep things of life, he was turning to me for help. All the time he talked, my heart began to pound. I got nervous - and I knew I needed to tell him about Jesus and the hope of the gospel. The more John talked, the more my heart pounded. But I kept silent. See, I was one of those Christians who talked Jesus with others who talked Jesus. Well the conversation ended with no talk of Jesus. But I intended to talk with John about Jesus – later. Two weeks later on a defining Monday morning – I looked for John in the usual spot we met between classes. I waited and waited until I could wait no longer or I would be late for class. He must be sick, I thought – this guy had never missed a day of school since kindergarten. After class, I decided to bake some cookies and take them over to him. While I was mixing the dough, my sister called me. I will never forget her question, “Did you hear about John?” I said, “No ~ but he must be sick,” “No,” she said, “He’s not sick – he’s dead.” I was stunned. She then read the article that appeared in the campus newspaper. John and his roommate were drunk, left the keg party in their room to get more beer and on their way back to campus, their car wrapped around a tree and John never gained consciousness. He died two hours later at the hospital. It was early in October, and on that day, my world closed in around me. Time stopped and I wondered how life could go on. I remember going to classes in a blur and wondering how students could go about life as if nothing had happened. I knew people “in general” died, but death had never personally affected me. No friends or family close to me had died.But now, my friend was dead. Not just an acquaintance. But a real friend. And I had no idea if he knew the Lord. I remembered and re-lived that conversation in the quad all semester. I was sad, very sad, maybe even clinically depressed for 2 months, barely getting through my classes. His death, but mostly my guilt weighed heavily on my mind. For me, all kinds of thoughts entered my mind that I wrestled with: “What was wrong with me? I know Jesus Christ. I know John needed Jesus Christ. Why was I so afraid to speak of Him? Did I really believe that Jesus Christ was the most important thing in my life? And what was the point? Why hadn’t I shared Christ with John? My life was useless for God.” However, instead of continuing to wallow in sadness and depression, I asked God for His help. I told Him that I didn’t want to live a roller-coaster life. I didn’t want to float through life being afraid to speak of Him. I wanted my life to be defined by Him. But, the question loomed in my mind, why was this gospel so difficult to share? Could it be that there was something missing in my own Christianity? I wanted answers. I asked God to help me grow. Psalm 34:18: “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted, And saves those who are crushed in spirit.” I was truly crushed in spirit. God heard me and two months later – through an odd turn of events; I was on my way to a Christian conference designed for college students. It would turn out to be not just a defining moment but a defining week in my life.It was there that it seemed God was speaking directly to me. Just like He had all those years before when I switched the dolls. It was like I was the only one there. It was like the speakers that week had read all about me, knew my every thought, understood my broken heart. It was like they knew me in a personal way and were there to give some answers, to take away the fog, to impart God’s purposes for me. Well, they didn’t know all about me – but God did. And as they shared their hearts and opened God’s Word – God spoke directly to me - through His word. This would be the beginning of a closeness with God that I had yearned for all my life. A beginning of a journey for me. 

Please join us next week for part 2 . . . 


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