About Me
Hi, I'm Kelvin Crosby!
I didn’t plan this life.
I was born hard of hearing. My parents raised me to live in a hearing world, and for a long time, that’s the only life I knew. But underneath, something deeper was already forming — the kind of shaping that doesn’t show up until years later.
By the time I was eight or nine years old, I felt so different, so out of place, that I didn’t want to be here anymore. I attempted suicide more than once as a child. It was in the middle of that darkness, at nine years old, that I gave my life to God.
At thirteen, I was told I was losing my vision. I refused to accept it. At nineteen, I couldn’t deny it anymore — I was legally blind. Between the deafness and the blindness closing in, I was angry at God, and that anger led me back to attempting suicide again, more than once.
I don’t share that to shock anyone. I share it because it’s true, and because it’s the ground God has been shaping ever since.
God met me in it.
In the mountains, during one of the lowest seasons, God spoke to me. He told me He had a plan for my deafblindness. Not around it — through it. Romans 5:3-4 became real to me in a new way: suffering produces perseverance, perseverance produces character, and character produces hope. I began to see that the hardest parts of my story weren’t proof God had abandoned me. They were the pressure He was using to shape something.
That didn’t mean the shaping stopped being painful. Loneliness led me into pornography addiction for a season — an area I was hiding from God instead of bringing to Him. It took surrender and accountability with other men before I was willing to let that area be opened back up and healed.
By thirty-two, I had lost my sight completely. Losing the ability to read showed me how much I had taken God’s Word for granted. In that season, God taught me to know Him a different way — through worshiping, reading the Bible, and praying, every day, without needing my eyes to do it.
What Does Kelvin See?
Today, I see the world through a haze — like looking through wax paper. Colors are softer, and most details have faded into shapes and shadows. The picture isn’t clear, but I keep moving forward.
My white cane helps guide me through the world. At church, people often call it my staff. It’s what I walk with, stand with, and worship with. With my cane in hand, I worship Jesus with my whole heart. I move, I dance, and I praise Him, trusting that God is leading each step I take.
Even when my vision is limited, my faith keeps me going.
Finding My Way to the Wheel
Pottery entered my life during a season when I needed something steady. Clay doesn’t move unless you stay with it. It responds to pressure, time, and attention. If you fight the wheel, the clay collapses. But if you stay with it — even when it wobbles — something begins to take shape.
That process mirrored my own life. Working with clay gave me a place to process loss, grief, and hope without needing to rush toward answers. Over time, God turned it into something more: a way to show people what He’d been doing in me the whole time. That’s what led people to start calling me the DeafBlind Potter — and it’s why I built my message, The Good Potter, around a lump of clay becoming something with purpose.
Speaking as a Tool in God's Hands
I never set out to be a speaker. I see myself as a tool — one God uses however He sees fit, whether that’s in front of ten people or ten thousand.
In 2026, I had the honor of sharing the Good Potter message with over 10,000 teenagers at the Naz Youth Conference. Standing in front of a crowd that size and watching God move in it was humbling — not because of anything I did, but because He used a deafblind guy with a lump of clay to remind that many young people that they matter and that He sees them.
As much as I’m grateful for rooms that large, some of my favorite moments happen in much smaller ones. I love sitting with a youth group, a men’s group, or a women’s group, working the clay slower, and letting the conversation go deeper than a big stage usually allows. Whatever the size of the room, the goal is the same: to meet people where they are and let God use the wheel to help them grow closer to Jesus.
Below is a look at the Naz Youth Conference 2026, where I had the chance to share the Good Potter message with over 10,000 teenagers.
Seeing a Need I Couldn’t Ignore
Living with vision loss also changed how I moved through the world.
As a blind pedestrian, I became aware of how often drivers simply couldn’t see me — especially at night. That fear stayed with me. Instead of pushing it aside, I began to wonder if there was a way to make walking safer for people like me.
That question led to the invention of the See Me Cane, a lighted blind cane designed to help blind pedestrians be more visible. It wasn’t born out of business plans or ambition. It came from lived experience — from crossing streets, listening carefully, and knowing what it feels like to be unseen.
Life Beyond the Work
My life isn’t lived only on a stage or behind a pottery wheel. It’s lived in the everyday moments most people never see.
I’m married, and my wife walks beside me through all of it — the uncertainty, the faith, the questions, and the grace that shows up in unexpected ways. Together, we navigate life with disability, calling, and change, learning what it means to lean on each other when the path isn’t clear.
I’m also a foster dad. Foster parenting has stretched my heart in ways I never anticipated. It has taught me the importance of showing up, loving without guarantees, and trusting God with outcomes I can’t control. In those moments, faith becomes less about words and more about presence — choosing to stay, even when things are hard.
The DeafBlind Potter Ministry
The DeafBlind Potter isn’t just a name for a testimony — it’s a ministry built around one purpose: helping people who feel like they don’t matter see that God isn’t finished shaping them.
A lot of that comes directly from where God has walked me. Suicide almost ended my story more than once. Addiction almost kept me hidden. So this ministry exists to speak directly into those two places — to be honest about suicide and addiction instead of avoiding them, and to point people toward a God who doesn’t walk away from messed-up clay. He picks it up and starts shaping it into something with purpose.
The Three Rings
Every finished piece that comes off the wheel carries three rings. They’re not just decoration.
The three rings represent joy, perseverance, and character — the fruit Romans 5:3-4 says suffering produces when we let God keep shaping us instead of pulling away from Him. Joy. Perseverance. Character. And all three lead to one place: hope in Christ.
When you see three rings on a piece from the DeafBlind Potter, that’s what they’re telling you — that a hard season, surrendered to God, becomes something with purpose.
Why There Are Stickers and Merch
The pottery, the stickers, and the merch aren’t the point — they’re a way to keep the ministry going. Every piece sold helps support the DeafBlind Potter Ministry so the Good Potter message can keep reaching people who need to hear it, in churches, at conferences, and in small groups who could never otherwise afford to bring someone in to speak.
Why I Share My Story
I don’t share my story because I have everything figured out.
I share it because I’m still walking it.
Whether through pottery, speaking, inventing tools for the blind, or caring for my family, the same truth keeps returning — God is still shaping, even when the process feels slow or unclear.
If you take anything from my story, I hope it’s this: you’re not alone in the questions, and the shaping isn’t finished yet.
