BECOMING The Rachel Shuttlesworth’Story
Often, when God called people in the Bible—David, Joseph, Gideon—there was a process between calling and fulfillment. This is the pattern God chooses to form His people into vessels capable of carrying what He has entrusted to them.
Many people give up before ever seeing the fulfillment of what God has promised, because the road is marked by countless “valley of the shadow of death” moments—places where we forget that He is our Shepherd.
In January of 2019, when I learned that my husband, Matt, and I would be stepping into the role of Lead Pastors, I had no idea it would usher in a years-long season of making.
We took over the church in Hamilton, Ontario, from my parents, who had planted and pastored it faithfully for 20 years. At first, things were going well. The church was growing, momentum was building, and hope was tangible.
Then March of 2020 arrived—and everything changed.
When COVID hit, we pivoted for the first time in the church’s history and moved fully online. We launched online services, a podcast, and weekly social media content. Creatively, it became an unexpected gift. We were stretched in ways we never imagined, and the ministry grew.
But while momentum increased publicly, tension quietly grew within my family.
By March of 2022, everything had unraveled. My father—my pastor—had fallen. What we had sensed for some time was now undeniable. There was proof.
I often describe that season as a car wreck. I crawled out of the wreckage, put on a paramedic’s uniform, and spent the next year doing everything I could to help those around me—our congregation, who had known my dad as their pastor—process betrayal, grief, and anger, even as I carried those same emotions myself.
People I had grown up with began to leave the church. Others, unable to process their pain, placed it squarely on Matt and me. As my father’s daughter, I absorbed the brunt of it. I felt as though everyone was waiting for me to fail.
Whether that was true or not, it felt like a prison.
I felt like I was dying on the inside. The church seemed to be dying on the outside. And the family I had known was gone.
By September, at our women’s conference, I found myself face-down at the altar—empty, numb, a shell of who I once was. I cried out to God, Surely I can’t take any more. I waited for tears, but none came.
Then I heard the Lord whisper: “This isn’t a funeral. Why are you laying here waiting to die? This is a birth.”
Suddenly, I was caught up in a vision. I stood in a hospital hallway with two rooms in front of me. I could hear shouting, women screaming, monitors blaring, staff rushing in and out.
I was lifted into a bird’s-eye view. In one room, someone was dying.
In the other, a woman was giving birth.
And God said: “Sometimes death and birth look and sound the same. But if you could see what I see, you would know I am birthing something in you. Take off your funeral clothes.”
I began to laugh—deep, unrestrained joy—for the first time in months.
Within weeks, I developed excruciating pain in my left side and abdomen. It was unbearable. An ultrasound was ordered. The technician was silent until the end, then looked me straight in the eyes and asked: “Do you have a family history of cancer?”
Cancer?
Within 24 hours, it was confirmed. Within a month, I was on the most aggressive medication regimen I had ever experienced, being treated for a cancerous gastrointestinal tumor the size of a grapefruit, lodged beneath my ribs.
I was terrified. Confused. After everything we had endured—this?
And yet, echoing through my spirit was the same word: “This is not a funeral. This is a birth.” God had prepared me. What the enemy intended to destroy me, God would use to birth something in me.
From October 2022 to April 2024, I underwent treatment. On April 16, 2024, I had major surgery to remove the tumor, along with my spleen, part of my stomach, and reconstruction of my diaphragm. By God’s grace, the surgery was successful, and recovery was swift.
During this time, we also assumed leadership of Matt’s uncle’s church in Kitchener, Ontario, as a second campus, while completely rebuilding the Hamilton campus from the ground up. God breathed life into both. New people encountered Jesus. Revival stirred.
The Kitchener campus grew rapidly—so much so that within a couple of years, we outgrew the space and prepared to add multiple services. God brought people from nations all over the world, and we continued to preach the Word boldly, believing for awakening.
I mentioned earlier the “valleys of the shadow of death.” The difference between those who make it and those who don’t is simple: Those who make it don’t quit!
After surgery, I entered a routine of CT scans every three months. All scans had been clear—until November 2025. I walked into that scan expecting nothing different. Three days later, an email arrived. Cancer had returned. It had spread to multiple areas and organs.
When I met with my medical team, they said: “This is Stage 4. There’s no clear plan. We’ll keep you on this medication and hope for the best. Some people live up to ten years.”
And again, the Spirit whispered: “This isn’t a death. It’s a birth.”
Yes, I wept. I wrestled with God. I asked the hard questions. Is this really what all of this was for? To die at 46? I want to see my children grow up. I want to watch my daughter marry. I want to see my son become the leader he’s called to be.
And still— “This isn’t a death. It’s a birth.”
I opened my Bible.
“In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may result in praise, glory, and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.” 1 Peter 1:6–7
Many of us say we want God to be glorified through our lives. We say we trust Him. We say we believe His Word—but do we really? It is in moments like these that I realize I have been given a sacred opportunity to demonstrate that everything I preach, everything I have built my life upon, is not just something I say—it is something I truly believe.
How do you know you believe something unless it is tested?
As a young teenager, I remember praying, “God, use me for something significant. Let my life make an impact. Be glorified through me. Let the world know You are God because of my life.” Those are powerful words—but the real question is this: am I willing to walk through the process that answers that prayer?
Joseph, Jacob’s favored son, was sold into slavery by his own brothers, falsely accused, imprisoned, and left in obscurity for years. Yet when famine struck the land and his brothers came to Egypt searching for help, Joseph stood as ruler. Instead of vengeance, he extended mercy.
He declared one of the most profound statements in all of Scripture—words I have held onto tightly in this season: “You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.” Genesis 50:20
Joseph’s journey through unimaginable suffering positioned him exactly where he needed to be to preserve the nation of Israel from extinction.
And I cannot help but recognize the pattern. What was meant to harm me—what was intended to silence me, exhaust me, and cause me to quit—God is using to birth something in me. A fire that will never be extinguished. A fire to see the nation of Canada saved, healed, and free.
I am walking this journey day by day with wisdom, pursuing every avenue for my physical body to be healed and restored to function as God designed it to. But above all of that, I am standing in unshakable confidence and assurance of this truth: This is not my funeral.
This is not my death sentence. It may look like death.
It may sound like death.
But it is a birth.
It is the making—the process through which God is forming me into everything He has called me to be. What the enemy planned for destruction will backfire. When doctors say there is no plan, God declares that He has one.
“Because he loves Me,” says the Lord, “I will rescue him;
I will protect him, for he acknowledges My name.
He will call on Me, and I will answer him;
I will be with him in trouble,
I will deliver him and honor him.
With long life I will satisfy him
and show him My salvation.”
Psalm 91:14–16
If your life currently sounds like chaos, loss, or uncertainty, hear this clearly: this is not the end—it is the making. God has never wasted a valley, a trial, or a fire. What you are enduring is not proof that He has forgotten you; it is evidence that He is preparing you. Do not quit now. Do not retreat. Do not bury what God is still forming. Stand up, take off your funeral clothes, and step fully into the season of becoming. What God is birthing in you will be worth the fire it took to form it.
Rachel and her husband Matt are lead pastors at LGCY church in Kitchener and Hamilton - https://lgcy.church/
She is the mom of two kids Charlie (11) and London (10).
You are part of Her-Story:
Pray: Join Rachel and Matt in believing for complete, radical healing.
Give: Help Pastor Rachel access life-saving cancer treatment by contributing to the Go-Fund-Me Campaign her friends and church family has created. It's over 75% funded! They are looking to raise an additional $17,000 for Rachel's full treatment plan. Find out more and donate here.
