A Digital Miracle: When Your Destiny Moves Beyond Your Will

I’m crossing the street in Madison, Georgia, in August of 2018, following my family who are going into an antique store.

I pull out my phone because I keep feeling it buzzing with messages. Our countryside Airbnb doesn’t have any wifi or cell signal, so we are truly without internet. Finally my phone is getting a signal for the first time in 24 hours, and I see an intriguing notification from ClickFunnels.

I open it and read that we have had 48 sign-ups for the Mastery Program. I’m completely stunned.

I’m standing on the sidewalk outside of the antiques store, shaking with excitement, disbelief, and terror at the idea that I have to now teach at least 48 artists online for the first time and have no idea how I’m going to do it. I live by the motto of “Start before you’re ready,” but I’m also aware that there is a line somewhere called Irresponsible and Reckless, and you just don’t cross it.

I don’t know if I have done the bravest thing on earth or the stupidest, but now I’m committed and I have to follow through.

The Long Road Ahead

Three nights ago, before I pulled this trigger, I was at our 2018 Mastery Program graduation. We rented a huge gallery in downtown Phoenix and filled it with 25 graduates from both my day class and my night class. We had speeches, tears, art sales, and joyous celebration for all of these artists’ hard work.

Once graduation was over, we spent the next few hours cleaning, loading up our cars with equipment and supplies, and heading home, only to reload the van with everything nine of us would need for our trek out to Georgia.

At this point, Milan Art’s team consisted of nine hard-working, dedicated graduates who were barely paid in cash, but paid with room and board and art studios. Me, John, our four teenaged kids, Michael, Nate, and Miranda. Nate built a makeshift twin bed in the back of the van to allow drivers to sleep while we each took turns driving.

We only had a two-week break before another 25 artists started their year-long Mastery Program in September, so the drive had to be fast and furious. We were on a pilgrimage to Georgia to decide if this would be the place we wanted to relocate Milan Art Institute.

We only had two acres in Arizona and had grown out of all of our studios. We needed a place with affordable land and room to grow. John and I graduated from University of Georgia and had fond memories of the artsy little town of Athens, so we thought going back there was a possibility.

A Dream Meets a Deadline

Somewhere in Texas on a long straight road, we’re all discussing and dreaming of the future. I’m talking about the dream I saw of the hundreds of thousand of horses and how I know that the school has to go online in order to reach that many people. We talk about the four craftsmen and the art movement that would overtake the world and leave permanent change. Then Dimitra says it:

“Why not now? What are you waiting for? Take the Mastery Program online.”

I am shocked by the immediacy of what she is suggesting, already processing and thinking through how and when.

“You mean now as in this year?” I ask.

“I mean what about in two weeks when you start the new group? Film it and start an online version where people will watch what was taught that week,” she says with confidence.

“I can make a ClickFunnels landing page right here in the car, and we can launch it tomorrow,” Michael says.

Without thinking it through too much, I feel excited about the idea of a small group of artists around the world following along. I already know of a couple of people who have been emailing me asking when it could be possible to take it online.

“Okay! Let’s do it! We can find out if anyone is interested beyond the couple of people I know who have been asking me.”

Michael got out his laptop, hot-spotted into ClickFunnels, and began making a landing page, periodically asking me questions like start dates and price.

“Nate, if we bought a camcorder and microphone, do you think you can follow me around filming what is necessary, then edit it over the weekend in time to get it out to the online students by Monday?”

Nate stays quiet for a second, thinking through everything.

“Yeah, I think so. As long as the edits are just one camera and mostly just deleting all the unimportant parts, it can be done.”

“Okay, let’s have the start date lag a week behind the in-person Mastery Program to give time for editing on the weekend. I can put them all into a Facebook group to interact with each other and share artwork. Man! This is exciting!”

We stopped in Louisiana along the way to film a quick ad announcing the Mastery Program online. Nate edited it in a few minutes, and we paid for a few ads on Facebook using Dimitra’s huge following. I was excited but had never launched an ad before or tried anything like this and didn’t know what would happen. I figured maybe a few artists who follow Dimitra would sign up, but I wasn’t sure.

Dimitra and Michael come out of the antique store and ask why I’m standing outside. I show them my phone with now 52 sign-ups and say, “Can you believe this!? Fifty-two people from all over the world want to take the Mastery Program.”

Michael smiles and says, “ClickFunnels and Facebook Magic!”

Dimitra says, “Yeah, thats exciting!” But it’s clear neither one of them is as shocked as me.

When Fear Crept In

The following day, while at a coffee shop called Jittery Joes, our sign-ups were up to 105! I told Michael, “Let’s turn it off and not accept anymore sign-ups. I don’t know how to teach so many people online, and I think this is starting to get out of control.”

“Are you sure? Online is all about scale. That’s beauty of it,” he questioned.

“I understand that, but we haven’t thought this through. At least with 100 people, we can email them links and have Zoom calls, but if this gets too big, I won’t know what to do. I don’t even know if artists can actually learn how to create art or find their voice online. The magic of the Mastery Program might only happen in person.” I was nervous and struggling with a lot of doubts.

While in Georgia, we met with some old college friends who got married and both became high school teachers. I learned that Carrie was heading up an online learning program through the public school system.

“Oh, Carrie! I want to pick your brain! We just launched our art program and have 105 artists who want to take it. What can you tell me about online learning?”

“That’s exciting! I would first want to know if you will offer a library of content on your online learning platform, or will this be live teaching broadcasted as online webinars on some kind of webinar platform?” she asked me, thinking I was on her level in the sphere of online education.

Panic immediately struck. I knew right away I was out of my league, in over my head, doomed to failure.

“Tell me more about the platforms you know about,” I asked her, trying to disguise the beads of sweat forming on my brow.

“Oh there are many out there—Lynda, Skillshare, Udemy, Coursera…It depends on the features you want and how much time you have to customize and develop your brand on there. Sounds like you are starting soon, so you probably need to keep it simple. How much content do you have, and how are you organizing it? Is it all on Vimeo?”

She didn’t realize that with those innocent questions she was exposing how unprepared I was to suddenly teach artists all over the world.

“I’ve got to be honest. I feel overwhelmed and like I probably can’t pull this off. None of the content is made yet. We planned to film during the week while I teach live, then lightly edit over the weekend and somehow get it to everyone. Maybe have a weekend coaching call through Zoom? I feel super stupid that I didn't think this through before we promised more than 100 artists an online program,” I confessed.

“Don't worry. Your plan of filming live and lightly editing sounds doable. You just need to figure out a platform to upload it to so that they can re-access it and follow a curriculum. You’ll figure it out. Just Google some stuff, and the solution will appear.”

I wasn't sure if she just wanted to finish the pathetic conversation we were having and not take on a responsibility that wasn’t hers, or if she genuinely thought I could pull this off. But after this conversation, my doubts grew by the day, and I started to convince myself that I needed to return everyone’s first month payment and put more time into preparation. Maybe I should have waited until we could properly film and edit each lesson, and this would be a couple-year investment.

The Dark Night of Destiny

The entire drive back to Arizona, I was haunted by my friend’s questions. I could not wrap my brain around formatting this into an online curriculum that could be delivered in a user-friendly way. I started to think about things like sources and a textbook with written processes.

How would I share links to supplementary learning like YouTube videos and podcasts, or book recommendations? I couldn't possibly send all of this through an email that they would lose or have trouble organizing. I needed a real online school, not some weird, ill-planned, patchy, glitchy email thing.

When my head finally hit my own pillow the night we returned from our long road trip, I was exhausted but swimming inside a swirling pool of dread and shame. I had decided that in the morning when I felt fresh, I would write an email apologizing and return everyone’s money. I submitted to failure. I had to cut my losses now and hope I would have the courage to try again in the future.

As I drifted off to sleep, I prayed God would not let the vision of the hundreds of thousands of horses leave the landscape of my soul. I asked God to give me courage to try again and find the solution.

The next morning, I started looking through my email over coffee before I would write my own dreaded email. I saw an email that intrigued me, titled, “Your online school is finally ready.” It wasn't a commercial email, but a personal one, from a name that felt vaguely familiar. I opened the email and began to read:

Elli, I’m so sorry it took me so many months to get this to you. I worked all summer on it and feel terrible that I didn't communicate to let you know it was taking longer than I thought. But as promised, I created your online school platform. It may need tweaking, but I followed your branding from your current website and plugged in the wording I thought seemed appropriate. Feel free to change what you like, but it’s ready for you to upload your content. The link below will take you to your online school. I’m excited to see all the lives you will change with this. Let me know if you have any questions.

I was in complete shock and bewilderment. I could not figure out if this was some kind of scam, or a miracle, or if I was losing my mind, but I felt compelled to click the link, risk getting hacked, and see what was on the other side.

Divine Timing

To my complete surprise, I saw a fully branded online art school called Milan Art Institute, with our own pictures and words. He had taken the Mastery Program syllabus from our website and laid it all out into a collapsible library of lessons, complete with titles. As I opened each one, there were descriptions and room for a video to upload. An entire platform for the school was built!

But how? How did this happen?

I searched my entire memory banks trying to remember anything about hiring someone to build this and knew that I didn't. I didn't have the money for that. I didn't even know anybody who could do that. Was this a supernatural angelic intervention from some kind of heavenly techie realm?

I looked up the guy’s name on LinkedIn to see if I could find a picture. When I found his profile, I read that he worked for Arizona Public Schools in online education development. Then, suddenly, a memory flooded back.

Earlier that year, in about February, he and I had stood outside talking after he dropped his daughter off at a youth art class. I remember him asking if I had thought about taking what I’m doing online, and that he built online learning platforms for the high schools in Arizona.

I told him I wanted to go online but felt overwhelmed and didn't know how to do it. I shared how Dimitra had followers all over the world that would want to learn from her, but I didn't know how to reach them with the content. In response, he told me he could build me a platform. It would just take a couple of months.

I think I told him, “Oh, that would be nice.”

But he did it! He really did it! He even did it for free!

I emailed him back and told him the condensed story of our trip to Georgia and how I was about to give everyone their money back. I told him that what he did felt like a miracle and that I wasn't expecting it, but it literally came at the most perfect time.

Never the Same

That morning, I realized that all these dreams about the horses, the visions from Zechariah, the angels explaining the craftsmen, and even the moment at my kitchen table in 2010 when God told me to start an art school, were for this very moment I would commit to taking the school online.

If God could foresee all of this and compel a man to make me an online platform without expecting any pay, just because he felt like he was “supposed to,” then God would equip me for everything else I would need. I couldn’t fail.

I couldn't quit or give the people their money back. I was in too deep now. I had passed through the event horizon into the deep space of my destiny and the destiny of the Mastery Program to reach the four corners of the earth. To teach, prepare, and equip the craftsmen to terrify the oppressive power horns, to lift the heads of men who have given up hope.

It was happening.

It made me realize that even though I am a big boob and I do dumb things and start before I’m ready, God fills in the blanks. God protects his plan and will make it happen with or without me. I get the honor, though, of being a part of it.

Have you ever started something before you felt ready? How did it turn out?

Share your story in the comments below!