The Birthday Check
Updated: Sep 13
Six months after leaving a dependable job at Walmart to make a living through BMX, nearly all of my work had stopped. When I quit, Jenn and I had a mortgage, a six month old baby, and no idea how we were going to replace my paycheck. We believed God was leading me back into ministry through Chaos on Wheels, but believing that didn't make the decision feel any less risky. I was walking away from the only steady income we had and trusting that God would provide whatever came next.
Within a day or two of turning in my notice, I received a call from a guy in Cedar Rapids, Iowa who was opening an indoor skatepark. He wanted me to build the ramps. The down payment arrived during my final week at Walmart, which I believe was a clear answer to prayer. I spent most of that summer building the Cedar Rapids ramps while also bringing Chaos on Wheels back to life, and by fall I had completed a second skatepark for a small Iowa town. It looked like God had provided a way for me to support my family through BMX shows during the event season and ramp construction between shows.
Then winter arrived, and I started to see a few holes in my new plan. The shows stopped, the Iowa weather made it too cold to build ramps outside, and I still hadn't received the final payment for the Cedar Rapids project. We needed that money to pay off materials we had already purchased, catch up on bills, and make it through the winter until the work started again. While I was waiting for that payment, another opportunity made me believe I might finally be close to creating a permanent place of my own.
Sometime in September 2002, I learned that the old school building in Bricelyn, Minnesota, was for sale. In small towns across Minnesota and Iowa, it wasn't unusual for an empty school to be sold for $1 if the right developer came along with a plan to renovate it and keep it in use. I had been trying to open an indoor action sports park since I was a teenager, and I thought I might finally have the right plan for this building.
I dusted off the business plans from my previous attempts and started making revisions. This time, I had more than an idea. Chaos on Wheels was booking more events, ramp construction had become a new source of income, and I had experience running a successful action sports ministry through Youth for Christ. The Youth for Christ campground was only a few miles from the school, so I could picture the two places working together.
The campground already had a ramp, and the school could become the indoor facility I had been trying to build for years. The plans I had taken to banks before were mostly based on a vision for something I had never done, but now I had built an indoor skatepark for someone else and completed an outdoor park for a small town. Chaos on Wheels was growing, and I had also seen what could happen when young people had a consistent place to ride and adults who cared enough to keep showing up. For the first time, I thought I could actually demonstrate that the idea worked.
I revised the numbers, added the income from ramp construction, included the growing Chaos schedule, and explained the ministry work I hoped would happen inside the building. After meeting with bankers and other officials, I started to believe there was a real chance the plan might be approved. Then the letter came, and I knew it was bad news before I opened it. If a bank approves your loan, someone calls to congratulate you, but when the answer is no, they send a letter.
The reason for the denial surprised me. The letter explained that my business plan included too much language about using the facility for ministry, and SBA funding couldn't be secured for a business “principally engaged in religious activities.” I had included that language because I wanted the bank to understand what the place was actually for. I wasn't just trying to build a room full of ramps; I wanted to create a place where young people could return, build relationships, talk honestly about life and faith, and know that someone cared about them.
That was the part of the plan I believed made the building matter, and it was also the reason the bank gave for turning it down. After all the revisions, meetings, and reasons I believed this attempt was different, the permanent facility wasn't going to happen. Once again, I had a plan for the place I wanted to build and a letter explaining why someone wasn't willing to help me build it.
Meanwhile, the indoor park in Cedar Rapids was open, and people were riding the ramps I had spent most of the summer building. From the outside, the project looked all wrapped up; the owner had riders showing up, a retail shop, and a completed park. The one thing I didn't have was the final payment he still owed me. I called, but he stopped returning my calls, and whenever I tried to catch him at the park, he never seemed to be there.
As winter continued, the unpaid balance became more than an inconvenience. We were carrying debt for materials that had gone into someone else's business, and there was very little income coming in to cover it. Then I learned there would be a large BMX event at the park, with riders coming from all over. I knew the owner would have to be there, so Jenn and I packed up Ethan and drove to Cedar Rapids on a cold January evening, which also happened to be my 27th birthday.
Frank and a few other Chaos on Wheels riders made the trip too, and the event was everything an indoor BMX park was supposed to be. There were riders everywhere, the ramps were being put to good use, and people seemed to be having a great time. After spending years imagining places like that, it was satisfying to watch riders enjoy something I had built. It was also satisfying to finally catch the owner.
He wrote me a check for the remaining balance, and Jenn bought a pair of shoes from the little retail store inside the park as part of my birthday present. Between the event, the shoes, and finally getting paid, it felt like a pretty good way to celebrate turning 27.
We didn't stay for the entire event because we had a baby who needed to get to bed, so we packed up and drove home believing at least one of the problems hanging over us had finally been resolved.
The next day, I deposited the check and started paying overdue bills. Before long, the bank began calling to tell me that my business account was overdrawn, but the numbers didn't make any sense because I had just deposited the check that was supposed to cover everything. Eventually I realized that the final payment from Cedar Rapids hadn't cleared. The check the owner handed me on my birthday had bounced.
What made it worse was knowing that after writing me a bad check, he had still taken Jenn's money for the shoes.
I spent the next several weeks trying to figure out how to press charges and recover what he owed me, but in the end, I never got paid. Not long after that, I learned the park had closed and the owner owed money to a lot of other people too. The ramps became the property of the building owner and were eventually sold to cover unpaid rent and other debts.
In less than a year, I had helped turn an empty building into the kind of indoor park I had dreamed about since I was a teenager. I had watched riders fill the place and seen that the idea could bring people together, but now the park was gone. The school in Bricelyn was no longer an option either. One place had rejected my plan because ministry was too central to it, while the other had opened, looked successful, and still couldn’t survive.
I still believe the Cedar Rapids opportunity was an answer to prayer. God used it to replace the income I gave up when I left Walmart, and it showed me that ramp construction could become part of how I supported my family. At the same time, I was learning that trusting God didn’t mean every part of my plan would work out the way I expected. Sometimes the provision was real even when the outcome wasn’t what I had hoped it would be.
By the end of that winter, we still had overdue bills, unpaid material costs, no indoor facility, and no dependable income until the weather changed. I didn’t know how we were going to make it through the next few months, but somehow God continued to provide for us.
When spring arrived, the phone started ringing again, and this time several towns wanted the thing I had spent years trying to convince communities to build. I thought that meant the problem was finally being solved.
Those experiences still shape the way I think about Rooted today. A park can be full of riders and look successful from the outside while struggling to survive financially. At the same time, the part of a plan that gives the place its purpose can also make it harder to fund.
I don’t want Rooted to have to choose between being accessible and being sustainable. I want people to be able to participate regardless of their financial situation, but keeping the lights on, maintaining the ramps, and opening the doors for the next session still has a real cost. Creating that kind of place requires a community of people who understand why it matters and are willing to help carry that cost.
If you believe places like Rooted matter, I invite you to help us keep this opportunity available to everyone. Your support helps create a place where people can ride, grow, build relationships, and belong.
Jeremiah Anderson
Rooted Action Park Founder
If this story reminded you of a time when you believed God was providing, but things didn’t unfold the way you expected, share what you learned in the comments. Your story may be exactly what someone else needs to hear in an uncertain season.
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