There are stories I write because I’m a broadcaster, stories I write because I’m the President and Publisher of On The Dial, and stories I write because something happening in our industry deserves attention. This one is different. I am the story, and admittedly that makes these words harder to write. Over the last week, I have watched something happen around my family that I still don’t completely know how to process. Millions of people have watched, thousands have prayed, strangers have donated, television stations have told the story, and people I will probably never meet have stopped long enough to ask how they could help. All of it began because one man with an enormous platform decided that another man’s life was worth stopping for. His name is Joshua Liljenquist, and what he and the people around him have done for me has fundamentally changed the way I think about influence, broadcasting and the responsibility that comes with having an audience.
I’ve spent most of my adult life communicating with people.
I’ve programmed radio stations. I’ve sat behind microphones. I’ve worked inside buildings where every tenth of a ratings point mattered. Today I publish stories about this industry through On The Dial.
I understand audiences.
Or at least I thought I did.
Then Josh walked into my home.
Before The Cameras There Was A Conversation
Josh didn’t encounter me at my best.
He met me during a season when my life had become something I never imagined it would be. Cancer had already visited my life more than once. The treatments that helped keep me alive ultimately devastated my kidneys, and dialysis became part of my daily existence.
I need a kidney.
Those four words are remarkably easy to type.
They’re considerably harder to live.
There are medical appointments, dialysis exchanges, bills, exhaustion and uncertainty. There is the financial pressure that comes with being seriously ill for a very long time. And somewhere underneath all of that is the reality that the treatment keeping you alive isn’t the thing you’re ultimately praying for.
You’re praying for the phone call.
You’re praying for the match.
You’re praying that somewhere there is a person willing and medically able to give you another chance at life.
My story had already been told locally. Kansas broadcasters had helped shine a light on my search. People had prayed for me and supported my family.
Then Josh heard about me.
And he came.
Not somebody from his organization.
Josh.
He came into my home.
We sat together.
We talked about my illness.
We talked about dialysis.
We talked about my family.
We talked about awareness.
And somewhere during that visit, something happened that I believe broadcasters desperately need to understand.
He listened.
Before the video.
Before the shares.
Before the fundraising.
Before millions of views.
One human being listened to another.
That’s where this story really begins.
Then Josh Did What Josh Does
If you follow Josh Liljenquist, you already understand that his platform isn’t built simply around accumulating followers.
It’s built around doing something with them.
His work repeatedly takes him into the lives of people who might otherwise remain invisible: families struggling financially, people facing medical emergencies, veterans, people experiencing homelessness and ordinary human beings caught in extraordinary circumstances.
He sees them.
Then he asks everybody following him to see them too.
That’s incredibly powerful.
When Josh shared my story, the response became something I could never have imagined.
People donated.
People shared.
People prayed.
People started talking about kidney donation.
Other creators amplified the story.
The video traveled across platforms.
And suddenly my fight wasn’t confined to my home in Kansas anymore.
It was moving across America and beyond.
Millions of views.
Think about that.
Millions of individual opportunities for somebody to learn about kidney disease.
Millions of opportunities for somebody to learn that living donation exists.
Millions of opportunities for the right person to see my story.
That’s why I don’t measure what Josh has done for me simply by dollars.
I’m incredibly grateful for every single dollar people have contributed. That generosity has provided breathing room during a period when medical expenses and everyday life have created enormous pressure.
But financial isn’t the number I’m watching.
Reach is.
Because somewhere inside that reach could be my kidney.
Then The Story Started Traveling
The ripple didn’t stop with Josh’s original audience.
Other people began carrying it.
The story reached television.
KAKE told part of this journey in Kansas.
Josh spoke about what was happening during an appearance on Newsmax2’s The Silver Lining.
Other creators helped amplify the message.
And something that began inside my home became a conversation happening far beyond it.
That has been overwhelming.
But it has also made me think deeply about the business I’ve loved for most of my life.
Then Kate Devine And KAKE Helped Carry The Story Further
This week brought another moment I’ll never forget.
KAKE reporter Kate Devine sat down with Josh and me and helped bring this journey to television viewers across Kansas.
And I want to specifically say her name because journalists matter in stories like this.
Kate wasn’t simply covering another assignment.
She was helping introduce a human story to an entirely different audience.
That’s exactly what journalism—and local broadcasting—can do when it’s at its absolute best.
A television story might reach someone who never saw Josh’s video.
That person might share it with someone who never heard of me.
That person might know someone interested in becoming a donor.
Suddenly one television interview becomes another ripple.
That’s why every piece of coverage matters.
Thank you, Kate Devine.
Thank you, KAKE.
You became part of this story too.
Radio.
Broadcasters I Need You To Hear Me
I’m not writing this section as somebody lecturing the industry from the outside.
I’m one of you.
I’ve sat in the PD chair.
I’ve done mornings.
I’ve done afternoons.
I’ve worried about clocks.
I’ve stared at ratings.
I’ve coached talent.
I’ve dealt with budgets.
I’ve tried to make the quarter-hour stronger.
I’ve wondered whether the promotion was big enough.
I’ve spent my career believing in the magic that happens when one voice comes through a speaker and somehow makes thousands of people feel like they’re part of the same conversation.
And watching Josh has reminded me of something.
We already possess one of the most powerful tools for kindness ever invented.
The transmitter.
Think about what we have.
Morning shows with enormous relationships.
Personalities listeners consider friends.
Sales departments connected to thousands of local businesses.
Social platforms.
Websites.
Apps.
Streaming.
Podcasts.
Concert relationships.
Sports partnerships.
Community organizations.
And, in many markets, decades of accumulated trust.
What would happen if we occasionally pointed all of that power toward one person who desperately needed somebody to see them?
Not as a promotion.
Not for ratings.
Not because somebody sold the naming rights.
Because it’s right.
Maybe We Need To Learn Something From Josh
This isn’t me suggesting broadcasters become TikTok creators.
It’s bigger than that.
Josh has demonstrated something that radio once understood instinctively:
People respond to people.
Not corporate slogans.
Not generic campaigns.
People.
Show me the father trying desperately to keep his family together.
Introduce me to the waitress working two jobs while caring for a sick parent.
Let me meet the veteran sleeping in his car.
Tell me about the child whose family can’t afford transportation to treatment.
Show me the broadcaster who just lost a job after giving thirty years to this industry.
Then give your audience somewhere to help.
That’s what Josh understands.
And watching it happen to me has changed my perspective forever.
Play The Hits And Change A Life
Radio doesn’t have to stop being radio.
Please don’t.
Play the hits.
Talk about the Chiefs.
Argue about the Cowboys.
Give away Taylor Swift tickets.
Tell me why my commute is backed up.
Make me laugh at 7:20 tomorrow morning.
Do great radio.
But somewhere between the music, commercials, contests and quarter-hours…
leave room for somebody who needs us.
Because there is somebody inside your signal contour tonight wondering whether anyone sees them.
I know.
Because recently that person was me.
And then Josh Liljenquist knocked on my door.
What Josh Gave Me Was Bigger Than Money
People naturally see the fundraising total.
I see something else.
Josh gave me possibility.
Every share creates possibility.
Every television interview creates possibility.
Every article creates possibility.
Every conversation about organ donation creates possibility.
Every new person who hears my name creates the possibility that someone eventually says:
“Maybe I can help.”
When you’re waiting for a kidney, possibility is priceless.
And there is something else Josh gave me.
Hope.
Not the shallow kind people throw around because they don’t know what else to say.
Real hope.
The kind that makes tomorrow feel worth fighting for.
And Josh Didn’t Do This Alone
There are people surrounding this mission who deserve recognition too.
People who film.
People who organize.
People who amplify.
People who answer messages.
People who help transform an act of kindness into something capable of reaching millions.
And then there are the people watching.
Every person who gave.
Every person who shared.
Every person who prayed.
Every broadcaster who covered my story.
Every journalist who called.
Every person who simply whispered my name during their prayers.
You became part of this.
Please understand something:
I see you too.
My Challenge To Radio
I don’t want broadcasters reading this and saying, “That’s a wonderful story.”
I want us to ask:
Who’s our Steve?
Who’s sitting within fifty miles of our transmitter right now desperately needing somebody to notice?
Find them.
Maybe you can’t raise $50,000.
Raise $500.
Maybe you don’t have millions of followers.
You have 30,000 listeners.
Maybe you can’t fix someone’s entire problem.
Fix Tuesday.
Buy groceries.
Make the introduction.
Find the wheelchair.
Replace the furnace.
Tell the story.
Do something.
Because the measurement that matters most won’t appear in Nielsen.
It won’t show up in Triton.
It won’t be on the Miller Kaplan report.
Sometimes the most important number is simply:
ONE.
One person helped.
One family lifted.
One life changed.
One person seen.
And yes, I’m a Christian. My faith shapes how I understand what has happened around me. I believe God puts people in our paths for reasons we don’t always immediately understand.
I believe Josh came into mine for a reason.
And I believe there is a lesson inside this experience that reaches far beyond religion.
Love people.
See people.
Use whatever platform you’ve been blessed with to leave somebody better than you found them.
That’s something every broadcaster, every creator, every company and every human being can understand.
Josh Thank You For Seeing Me
I don’t know where this story ends.
I don’t know when my kidney will come.
I don’t know who the donor will be.
I don’t know what tomorrow’s fundraising number will look like.
But I know something today that I didn’t fully understand before.
I am not fighting alone.
Josh, thank you for walking through my door.
Thank you for sitting with me.
Thank you for listening.
Thank you for putting your reputation and your platform behind my story.
Thank you for reminding millions of people that there is a human being behind the diagnosis.
And thank you for reminding this lifelong broadcaster what an audience can really be.
To everyone who has prayed, donated, shared or simply stopped long enough to learn my story:
Thank you.
From my family…
From my heart…
Thank you.
And to my brothers and sisters in broadcasting, I leave you with the question that has suddenly taken on an entirely different meaning in my own life:
Do you see me?
More importantly…
Who aren’t we seeing?
Find them.
Turn on the microphone.
Tell their story.
Then watch what happens when an audience becomes a community.
That’s radio at its absolute best.
And maybe that’s humanity at its absolute best too.
Amen.
— Steven Mills
President and Publisher On The Dial
On The Dial celebrates the broadcasters, creators and ordinary people who understand that having an audience is both an opportunity and a responsibility. My deepest gratitude goes to Joshua Liljenquist and every person who has helped carry my story farther than I ever could have carried it myself. This journey isn’t finished. Neither is the ripple. Stay tuned.
#OnTheDial #DoYouSeeMe #JoshLiljenquist #JoshLilj #StevenMills #LiveToLove #TheRippleEffect #KidneyDonor #KidneyTransplant #KidneyAwareness #Dialysis #RadioFamily #RadioWithPurpose #LocalRadio #Broadcasting #UseYourPlatform #KindnessMatters #HumanityFirst #MakeADifference #HopeIsAlive #LoveOutLoud #FaithOverFear #BeTheDifference #Amen