That Old Van

-

 


The year was 1995. As a new follower of Christ, I began attending a church that hosted a Wednesday after-school program called Team Kids. Every Wednesday, the pastor or youth leaders would pick me and a few other students up from school in a late-1980s, two-toned brown church van. At the time, I had no idea what adventures awaited us in that old van, or how deeply the people I shared those adventures with would shape the spiritual foundation being built within me.

The youth group I belonged to was incredibly close-knit. For the most part, we were all deeply involved in one another’s lives. There was a bond between us that couldn’t be broken. We were a family, and we knew it. Whether we were at church or not, it seemed like some—if not all—of us were together, constantly making memories.

Life felt so much simpler then. No internet, no cell phones, no social media—just living fully in the moment with zero distractions. When you were with your people, you were with them. Everyone was present, and everyone was truly together.

We laughed, we cried, we worshiped, we prayed, and every now and then we even fought. We did all the things that families do.

And that van—we spent countless hours in that old van. It was our own little world on wheels. It didn’t matter if we were headed to Texas or Kentucky for a mission trip, or to Silver Dollar City or Six Flags St. Louis for a day of fun and music. It always felt magical. It was magical because we were together, and when we were together, the world could be falling apart around us and we still knew we were going to be okay.

Looking back, those days were filled with so much joy and innocence that I had no understanding of how dark the real world could be—or how heavy the burdens were that some of the people around me were already carrying. I didn’t know that it wouldn’t be long before I stepped into that darkness myself and found it knocking me flat on my back.

I had no way of knowing that in the not-too-distant future, I would stumble and make choices that would bring the walls of my life crashing down. Yet the incredible thing is this: the foundation God built in me through those people—those friendships, those memories, those long rides in that old church van—is the very foundation that saved me. It’s the reason I’m here today, able to tell this story. And for that, I will always be grateful.


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Beginning, in a Nutshell

-
Image
Growing up in the 1980s and 1990s felt like living inside a world that has long since disappeared. My generation—and the ones before us—experienced a version of life that simply doesn’t exist anymore, though we remember it vividly. I can tell stories of that old world to my kids, but they’ll never truly understand what it felt like to live in it. There is no going back. When I look back on those years, I don’t think I could have asked for a better childhood. I was raised by parents who loved each other, and who loved me and my sister unconditionally. Like any marriage, I’m sure they had their hardships, but they worked through them and stayed together. I’ve always counted that as one of the greatest blessings in my life. In a world where divorce and broken homes have become so common, I was spared that pain, and I know it shaped who I am today. I have nothing but fond memories of childhood. When I think hard about it, I honestly can’t recall anything truly negative. Life was just… good...
Read more

This New Thing

-
Image
 For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to be a writer. I’m not even sure why, because I’ve always hated reading. Up until the end of 2024, I had only managed to read two books in my entire life. Still, I decided to change that and set a goal to read one book each month. I didn’t quite reach that goal, but I did read around ten books over the past year—and for me, that’s a big step forward. Even then, writing still felt out of reach. But a couple of weeks ago, I was sitting by a fire at my pastor’s house with a few guys from church. We were talking, and the subject of writing came up. In the middle of the conversation, my pastor suggested that I write a book about all the wild and crazy things I’ve been through. I’ve always enjoyed telling my stories. They’re definitely entertaining—and sometimes unbelievable—to most people. So instead of jumping straight into writing a book, I figured a blog would be a good place to start—kind of a warm-up before diving into anything bigger. S...
Read more