Al and Lisa Robertson at Ocean City Tabernacle

L. & A. Redeemed

You Missed Something Extraordinary

Some mornings at the Ocean City Tabernacle, the worship is exceptional. Some mornings, the teaching is exceptional. And then there are mornings like August 30th, when two people stand up in front of a packed room and simply tell the truth about their lives — and in doing so, tell the truth about grace.

Al and Lisa Robertson — known to most of the country from Duck Dynasty, known to their neighbors as a pastor and his wife who have walked through fire and come out the other side — shared a testimony so honest and so layered that the room fell into a different kind of silence than any sermon produces.

They came to Ocean City, Al said, for one reason: to give the congregation a message of hope. The full service is available on the Ocean City Tabernacle YouTube channel. Be forewarned — this one covers ground that is not easy. It is exactly that kind of testimony that changes people.

Who Are Al and Lisa Robertson?

Al Robertson is the eldest son of the late Phil Robertson — founder of Duck Commander and patriarch of the family made famous by Duck Dynasty, the A&E reality series that became the highest-rated cable reality show in television history. Al and his wife Lisa appeared in Season 4 in the episode “Till Duck Do Us Part” — still the highest-rated cable reality television episode ever recorded, watched by more than 12 million homes on the night it aired.

Al is a pastor, preacher, and co-host with Lisa of the Unashamed podcast. Together they have been married since November 9, 1984 — nearly 42 years. They came to the Ocean City Tabernacle on August 30th not to talk about Duck Dynasty, but to talk about the 1972 photograph. The one before all of it. And the God who made the after possible.

The Family Behind the Show — and the One Before It

Tom Sherf introduced Al and Lisa simply — not with credentials, but with the promise of what was coming: a story of God’s grace and redemption in a marriage of more than 40 years. “A place where they would tell you it hasn’t always been easy. But in the midst of it, God’s redemptive grace has been the central key thing.”

Many in the room knew the Robertson name from Duck Dynasty. Al is the eldest son of the late Phil Robertson. But the picture Al wanted to hold up was not the polished, four-generation-of-faith family portrait from the show’s final night of filming.

It was the 1972 photograph. Same family. No idea that any of that was coming. “A hot mess,” he said plainly. “Adultery and drunkenness and drug use and abuse and a terrible situation — and a seven-year-old, yours truly, seeing things that you should never see.”

“I love showing that 1972 picture around America because so many times we think, I just don’t know that I can make it. I’m telling you — you can make it. We’re standing on this stage today because you can make it in Christ.”

Al’s Story — The Boy Who Preached Through the Door

Al was born when his parents were teenagers. Phil Robertson was eighteen. Miss Kay was sixteen. By the time Al was seven, the chaos at home had reached its lowest point — Phil drinking, unfaithful, abusive — and one night he kicked the family out.

Miss Kay found herself in the bathroom that night with a thought she had never had before: she didn’t know if she wanted to wake up tomorrow. And in that moment, a small voice came through the door. Al — eight years old — had heard his mother crying, as he had on many nights. He spoke without knowing why: “Our dad’s going to be okay. The devil’s going to leave him one day.” He doesn’t remember saying it. She never forgot it. “Was it a prophecy?” he asked the congregation. “I don’t know. Was it my first sermon? Probably.” But it galvanized her. She turned to Christ, unable to depend on her husband, but able to depend on the Bridegroom.

Phil eventually came to his knees. Miss Kay pointed him to Jesus. “He went from the biggest heathen in South Arkansas to John the Baptist overnight,” Al said. His Aunt Jan, who had believed through all of Phil’s prodigal years, had said: “If he ever comes to Christ, he’ll lead thousands.” He did.

But the enemy moved to the next target. By fourteen, Al was a “double secret agent” — third row, singing the right songs, saying the right Bible verses, dark inside. By seventeen, the guardrails were gone. He left for New Orleans.

“You don’t get to choose which family you’re born into. But you do get to choose the one you’re reborn into. And she was reborn into the kingdom of God. And it changed her. It galvanized her. It got her ready for when dad finally came to his knees.”

“Grace, Welcome Me Home”

Al’s time in New Orleans ended on a city street, beaten nearly to death. “I realized in that moment I had my desperation time. If I stay here, I’m going to die.” A first responder — “Was he an angel? Maybe. At the very least, he was a believer” — pointed him home and talked about Jesus.

He drove back to West Monroe. His parents came out to meet him in the driveway before he reached the door. He had a list of confessions prepared. He never got to it.

“Mom hugged me, crying. Dad gave me the thumbs up — which is his version of a hug. And then he said the magic words: ‘We got duck calls to bill. Welcome home.’ There was no preaching. There was nothing else. Grace welcomed me home.”

And then he handed the microphone to Lisa.

“There was no preaching. There was nothing else. Grace welcomed me home.”

Lisa’s Story — The Things We Carry

Lisa Robertson is the youngest of three children — the only one still living. Her older siblings both died from alcohol and drug-related problems, a pattern that ran through her family for generations.

Her earliest memory is at seven years old. An uncle who lived with her grandmother had severe alcohol, drug, and sexual abuse problems. “At seven years old, he began to do things to me that were not quite right.” She didn’t know they were wrong. She only knew they were unlike anything anyone had done before. He sealed it: “This is just our secret.” Lisa spoke with direct pastoral urgency to the room: “I just want to tell you — you have to talk about it. Because the people that this is happening to need to be healed, and you can only do it by talking about it.”

She first saw Al in sixth grade and called him her knight in shining armor from that moment forward. He didn’t notice her then. Years later, a McDonald’s parking lot, a cousin waving her down, a head appearing in her car window — and one word from Al that she translated for the congregation as redneck for “you filled out.” They dated. By the fourth date came the familiar line. She believed giving herself to him would mean they’d be together forever. It didn’t. He left for New Orleans. “He took my heart with him. And I think he took my brain too. For two years, I looked for that love that I had lost.”

“I just want to tell you — you have to talk about it. Because the people that this is happening to need to be healed, and you can only do it by talking about it.”

The Three Lies — and the Truth That Sets Free

At sixteen, Lisa’s mother told her she needed a pregnancy test. She didn’t fully understand how pregnancy happened. She went. The result was positive. Her mother told her it was a simple procedure — a glob of tissue, removed, and she would be fine. “I had never heard the word before. Didn’t know what it meant.” She went the next day.

“Coldest, darkest, loneliest place you ever want to go. And I paid someone to take my child. Not that glob of tissue. My child.”

She named the three things they told her — three things she said clinics still tell women. First: it is just a glob of tissue. Second: rest up and you will be fine. Third: once you leave here, don’t ever think about this day again. “That was 42 years ago,” she said quietly. “And I think about that child almost every day. But God is so good — and I will see that child again when I get to heaven.”

She believes her three subsequent pregnancies bore consequences from what happened that day. A first daughter born nine and a half weeks early at one pound fifteen ounces — now forty years old. A second pregnancy that nearly came three and a half months early. A third baby she lost. She spoke gently but without wavering, and then turned directly to the congregation: “I know in an audience this big there may be somebody here who has had that same thing happen in their life. This church offers a class called Forgiven and Set Free. If you are still struggling — see someone here. Find out when the next class is and go through it.”

“Coldest, darkest, loneliest place you ever want to go. And I paid someone to take my child. Not that glob of tissue. My child. But God is so good — and I will see that child again when I get to heaven.”

“God, If You Are Really There — Come Rescue Me”

Al came home from New Orleans. He and Lisa reconnected. On their second first date, he told her about Jesus. She was baptized. She came to believe the cross was big enough for everything she had done.

They married in a week — November 9, 1984. “A date and a decision I have never regretted in almost 42 years of marriage.” But the suitcase stayed in the attic. The things she had packed away — the abuse at seven, the grief, the years of searching — the enemy kept finding and opening. And some years into the marriage, Lisa had an affair that lasted nearly two years.

“The whole time I’m trying to get out of it, I’m thinking: God, open a door. And he always did. But the door was honesty. You see, I’d never been honest since I was seven years old because I couldn’t tell anybody what was happening in my life.”

Al found out. In their bathroom, he kept asking her to tell the truth. She prayed for an escape. The phone didn’t ring. “And the whole time he’s saying: Trust me. Tell the truth.” She did. She called it truth vomit — once it starts, you can’t stop it. She told him everything. All the way back to seven years old. “I had no idea how heavy that weight was that I was carrying around. And I just felt relief.”

Al told her she would have to leave. She went to the backyard. Lay on the ground. Looked up. “God, I thought I had a relationship with you, but obviously I was wrong. I don’t even really know if I believe that you’re there. I’ve never seen you. I’ve never felt you. I’ve never heard you.” Then she remembered: she had just heard him. In the bathroom.

“But God, if you are really there — could you please come and rescue me?” He did. “He didn’t wait for me to clean myself up. He came right there in all of my ugliness, in all of my shame, in all of my sin. And he picked me up and he put me on holy ground and he said: I am yours. But more than that, sister — you are mine.”

“He didn’t wait for me to clean myself up. He came right there in all of my ugliness, in all of my shame, in all of my sin. And he put me on holy ground and said: I am yours. But more than that, sister — you are mine.”

Our Story Must Intersect With His Story

Lisa’s daily prayer in the season of healing became Psalm 51: create in me a pure heart, oh God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Restore to me the joy of your salvation. “That joy of salvation — it’s something no one can take away from you. You can give it away, but it can’t be taken, because it comes from God.”

Al closed with the simple Gospel presentation his father’s generation used to share: the Creator becoming human, living perfectly, dying on the cross, rising three days later, sending the Holy Spirit, returning. “That sacrifice was enough for all of us. All the sin Lisa committed, all the sin I committed, you committed, and everybody that’s ever lived committed. That’s how big the cross is.”

“Our story must intersect with his story,” Lisa said. “We overcome the evil one by the blood of the Lamb, by the word of our testimony — which is his story in us — and we don’t shrink back from anything in this life, including death itself. We’re unashamed. And that’s what allows us to tell our story to you today.”

“Our story must intersect with his story. That is what your testimony is about — his story in you. And that is what changes your legacy and your destiny.”

A Closing Word — Fear Doesn’t Stand a Chance

Tom Sherf closed the service by naming what many in the room were feeling: “I live my life a lot more often by fear than by faith. And to look at a testimony like that — all the things where you could say, I’m afraid this is never going to work — and to see what God will do with it when we choose to live in faith instead of fear. I’ve been inspired and challenged today.”

The worship team’s closing song captured it in one line: my fear doesn’t stand a chance when I stand in your love.

Tom also announced that the following Sunday — the final Sunday of the 2026 summer season — would feature Duffy Robbins, followed by the beloved “Dogs with Duffy” picnic to close out another summer at the Tabernacle.

The full service is available on the Ocean City Tabernacle YouTube channel. Share it with someone who needs to hear that the cross is big enough — for all of it, for all of them, for whatever they are carrying right now.

Watch the Full Service — Ocean City Tabernacle on YouTube

If you missed Al and Lisa Robertson’s testimony in person, the full service is available now on the Ocean City Tabernacle’s official YouTube channel. Watch it, share it, and come back next Sunday for the final service of the 2026 summer season.

Watch Al & Lisa Robertson: “L. & A. Redeemed” — youtube.com/@OceanCityTabernacle

Subscribe — full summer series available: youtube.com/@OceanCityTabernacle

Ocean City Tabernacle • 550 Wesley Ave, Ocean City, NJ 08226 • octabernacle.org

A family ministry center where the Gospel of Jesus Christ is central — every Sunday, all summer long.