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Tuesday, 18 August 2026
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Written by Jamie Bishop
Karl Merritt has never seemed interested in writing the easy piece.
His books and opinion columns have dealt with faith, family, marriage, race, politics and the direction of the country. Some readers have agreed with him. Others have not. Merritt has learned to live with both.
For the former Fayetteville resident, writing is less about pleasing an audience than saying what he believes needs to be said.
“I simply write about what I believe God and circumstances call me to,” Merritt said. “Sell or not sell. I believe my calling is to write what I write.”
That conviction has been shaped by a life that moved through military service, ministry, business, and authorship.
Merritt spent 21 years in the Navy; an experience he said gave him a deeper appreciation for the United States and the sacrifices required to sustain it. Later, as an assistant pastor and pastor, his Christian faith became central to how he viewed the world and how he approached difficult subjects.
Those experiences eventually found their way onto the page.
His first book focused on his father’s life, preserving the story of a man shaped by hardship, faith and perseverance. Merritt later wrote about a marriage that endured for decades, using the relationship as a lens through which to examine commitment, partnership and lessons learned over time.
His writing then moved more directly into commentary.
Merritt said he has become increasingly willing to address topics others might avoid, particularly race. He rejects the idea that Black Americans must automatically accept the conclusion that America is fundamentally racist.
He calls that expectation “the rule of blackness.”
“Given that I am black, what I call ‘the rule of blackness’ requires that I agree and proclaim that America is a racist nation,” Merritt said. “I do not adhere to the rule.”
That position has made his writing controversial, especially among readers who see racism as a continuing and measurable force in American life.
Merritt’s argument is rooted heavily in his own experience and worldview. That makes it personal, but it also raises an important journalistic distinction: one person’s experience can help explain a perspective, but it cannot settle the larger question for everyone.
That tension is part of what makes Merritt worth profiling.
He is not difficult to understand because his views are unclear. Quite the opposite. He says exactly what he thinks, and he understands there may be consequences.
According to Merritt, those consequences became especially noticeable during the latter half of his years in Fayetteville.
He described his 21 years in the city as two very different periods. Early on, he felt accepted within the Black community. Later, he said, that changed as his public comments and writings moved away from what he believed others expected him to say about race and racism. He recalled being criticized, dismissed, and verbally attacked, but said he refused to soften his views to regain acceptance.
Merritt also said his time in Fayetteville sharpened his concerns about the direction of the country. In his view, too much public debate has become centered on race, grievance, and political manipulation, while issues such as family, faith, work ethic, and personal responsibility receive less attention.
Readers may challenge that interpretation, and some certainly will.
But Merritt’s writing has never depended on broad agreement.
He sees storytelling as a tool for making a point, not simply recounting an experience.
“I don’t tell stories for the sake of telling stories,” he said. “I use a story to make a point, clarify a thought.”
That philosophy runs through all three of his books.
Whether he is writing about his father, marriage, public policy or race, Merritt’s work is grounded in the belief that stories should lead somewhere. He wants readers to examine their own lives, question assumptions and decide what they believe.
His answer to what he hopes readers carry away from his books is simple: understand the circumstances of your life, seek God’s direction and do not give up.
Merritt no longer lives in Fayetteville, but the city remains part of his story.
It was where he served, wrote, worshipped, argued, lost relationships and tested his convictions in public.
That history explains much of who he is as a writer today.
You may agree with Karl Merritt.
You may disagree with him.
He has spent enough years writing to know both reactions are possible.
What matters to him is that the conversation happens at all. For more information or to purchase his books, you can contact Karl at https://www.karlmerritt.com/about-karl/
(Photo: Author Karl Merritt. Photo courtesy of Karl Merritt)
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Tuesday, 18 August 2026
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Written by Tiffany Haywood
The Hope Mills nonprofit is building an inclusive hub where special needs families can find trusted resources, community and new possibilities.
You ever have that relationship where you share those inside things? The joke only the two of you get. The little thing that may not make sense to anyone else, but between you, it works.
Ryan Cretens has one of those things with his older brother Tyler, who is on the autism spectrum.
Tyler has a habit of calling out, “Yeah, yay,” and somewhere along the way, Ryan started calling it right back. It became their call-and-response, something that might look a little quirky from the outside but, between two brothers, needs no explanation.
“It’s just our thing,” Ryan said.
Ryan grew up watching people notice Tyler’s differences and sometimes stop there. Later, the difference in opportunity became harder to miss.
Ryan went away to college, played collegiate athletics on scholarship and moved into opportunities that continued his growth into adulthood. When he returned home, Tyler was still there, without work and without many of the same opportunities Ryan had experienced.
Ryan began asking: What if Tyler had been given more chances to pursue sports, higher education, employment, relationships or other experiences so many people take for granted?
“There is purpose there,” Ryan said of Tyler and others in the special needs community.
Ryan’s recognition of what Tyler had not been afforded eventually became something bigger than their relationship.
“Everybody has quirks, right? You have quirks, I have quirks, we’re all human at the end of the day,” Ryan said.
And as human beings, we all want connection: the opportunity to participate, belong and access the people and places that help us move forward.
For some families within the special needs community, resources may exist, but finding them can still be difficult. For Ryan, the missing piece
was often connection.
That connection he had learned to build with Tyler became part of something larger: helping special needs individuals and their families connect with people, resources and opportunities around them.
Ryan founded KWIRKZ in 2019, and it became a nonprofit in 2021. Today, the Hope Mills organization describes itself as “an inclusive hub for the special needs community.”
Even the unconventional K is intentional. Ryan wanted something that looked different enough to make people stop and wonder why. The spelling asks for the same thing KWIRKZ asks of the community: recognize what looks different, get curious about the why and look deeper.
KWIRKZ is working toward five pillars: social connection, education, employment, transportation and housing.
That starts with social connection.
“Let’s lead with some fun,” Ryan said.
The Hive of Hope Mills gives those connections a physical place to happen. Located at 3414 Bullard St., near Hope Mills Municipal Park, The Hive combines a food truck park with event and community gathering space.
The partnership grew out of a relationship already there. Kevin Grant, owner of The Hive and a family friend, had watched Ryan developing KWIRKZ and approached him several years ago with an idea of his own.
Grant envisioned a food truck park that would also serve as a place for community to gather, and he saw KWIRKZ as a natural part of that vision.
When The Hive opened, Ryan had a physical space where the mission could happen face to face.
According to Ryan, a Kick It for KWIRKZ event there drew roughly 70 to 75 people. Other events have included Bowling with Friends and Fishing with Friends, where Ryan has watched parents talk, exchange information and find others who understand their challenges.
“This is the mission happening in real time,” Ryan said.
That is where “inclusive hub” stops being website language and becomes a tangible community.
Ryan’s next step is making that same access easier beyond a single event or location.
Think about what most of us do when we need to find something quickly. We reach for our phones. We search. We open an app.
Ryan wants KWIRKZ to become that kind of resource for the special needs community.
KWIRKZ is developing an app designed to connect parents and guardians with resources while allowing organizations, employers, schools and service providers to connect back to families.
Ryan does not envision another static directory. He wants a trusted hub, what he described as a “conduit” for connections, where people can find what they need without piecing information together from scattered sources.
The app is intended to do digitally what KWIRKZ events already do in person: put people who need one another in the same place.
That includes other nonprofits.
Ryan sees organizations serving similar communities sometimes operating in silos, particularly when fundraising and grant funding enter the picture. But he does not see another nonprofit serving the special needs community as competition.
“We’re not trying to recreate the wheel,” Ryan said.
Instead, he wants KWIRKZ to build what he called the “connective tissue” among parents, guardians, nonprofits, businesses and other resources, allowing each organization to maintain its identity while helping families reach services and opportunities already available.
KWIRKZ is not trying to own all the dots. It is trying to connect them.
Beyond social connection, Ryan continues exploring how partnerships could strengthen the employment, transportation and housing pillars.
And this is where that unconventional K comes back into play.
KWIRKZ looks different on purpose. The unexpected spelling makes people pause. It invites the question: Why?
“The first step to growth is recognition,” Ryan said.
At first glance, someone may notice another person’s quirks. KWIRKZ asks them not to stop there: notice, get curious and make the connection.
For Ryan, KWIRKZ begins with getting people to notice what looks different. Its larger purpose is making sure they do not stop looking there. For more information about KWIRKZ, visit https://www.kwirkz.net/
(Photo: KWIRKZ, based out of Hope Mills, is an inclusive hub for the special needs community. Photo courtesy of KWIRKZ's Facebook page)
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