What Happens When the Show is Over?
Updated: Oct 11
The big tricks were over, the Gospel message had been shared, and people were responding to the invitation. After a show in front of thousands of people, this was the part that reminded us why we were out here in the first place. As I watched people coming out of the crowd, I recognized a group of skateboarders coming over to talk to me. I’d prayed with them at another event a few weeks earlier. They’d already responded once, and I was curious why they were coming forward again.
The first time we met was in Lincoln, Nebraska. It was mid-August, it was hot, and the parking lot was full. Probably 3,000–5,000 people had come out to see the show. The skateboard team did their part, our guys were riding BMX, and Stephen Baldwin, “Stevie B,” was hyping the crowd and sharing his story. We’d been doing these events all over the country, bringing our trailer full of ramps and joining with the skateboard team, who also brought ramps.
Together we turned a parking lot into a skatepark. It was a pretty good way to draw a crowd.
Our friend, Brock Gill, was at this event in Lincoln and he shared the Gospel message. At these events it was common for half the crowd to come forward during the invitation time. The athletes and a group of local volunteers would spread out to talk with and pray for anyone who responded to the invitation to follow Jesus. We’d give them a little book with devotional material and ask them to fill out a card with their contact information. The cards would stay with the local churches so someone could follow up. At least that was the plan for what came next after we left town.
Sometimes I wondered how many people coming forward were actually responding to the invitation to follow Jesus and how many were just looking for an opportunity to meet the athletes. In Lincoln, I connected with a group of four or five skateboarders. We prayed together and talked for a bit, and then they went to meet the pro skaters. The rest of the afternoon was pretty typical, with autographs to sign and ramps to load into the trailer. When it was all over, we headed to the hotel for the night, and the next day we’d be on our way to another stop on the schedule.
I didn’t really think about those guys again. There were other cities, other parking lots, and other people to meet. We’d unload the same ramps, do the show, share the Gospel, and load everything back up. Somewhere back in Lincoln were a few guys I’d prayed with, but my attention had already moved down the road.
That was our life during that season. We’d been on the Winter Jam Tour, been part of Franklin Graham and Luis Palau Festivals, and made Livin’ It Live a big part of our schedule. Thousands of people watched us ride bikes, and we were getting opportunities I never would’ve imagined. We were “living the dream,” getting paid to do something we loved, and we were sharing the Gospel with people around the country. There was a lot about that season to be thankful for.
But I had started asking questions that were a little uncomfortable for someone in my position. How many non-Christians were we really reaching? How much of this was really just Christian entertainment? I was watching thousands of dollars go into events that drew crowds, but I wasn’t seeing disciples being made. I believed good came from those events. I just wasn’t sure another big event was the most effective way to reach the people who needed to experience a relationship with Jesus.
I had even started telling youth pastors to consider doing something else with the money they would spend to bring us to town. Pay a person or two who loved Jesus and wanted to disciple or mentor young people. Give them time to hang out at the local skatepark, get to know people, serve them, and have conversations. Let those kids see the love of Jesus in how somebody treated them over time. They needed to teach sound doctrine and have conversations about the big question, “Who do you say Jesus is?” And they needed to keep being there, because real relationships leave room for questions and struggles.
It’s probably not the best business advice to tell people they might be better off spending their money on someone else. But we were giving them a show and then leaving town. Someone local could be there day after day. I was becoming more interested in how deeply one person could invest in the lives of a few kids than in how big of a crowd we could draw to the next show.
Three weeks after Lincoln, we were in Omaha for another Livin’ It event. It was September now, and the weather was a little cooler, but there was no reason to think this one would be much different from the rest of the stops. The riders and skaters all put on a great show. I shared a little of my story and pointed people toward the coming invitation to follow Jesus. One of the skateboarders shared his testimony, and then someone got up to make the invitation. I don’t remember who preached the message that day, but I do remember that group of skateboarders coming over when people started responding.
I said something like, didn’t you guys accept Jesus at the last event? They said they had, but they hadn’t really felt different afterward. Nobody had contacted them. So they figured maybe they needed to do it again for something to change. They came back to another show, heard another message, and responded to another invitation because they were still trying to figure out what was supposed to happen when you “accepted Jesus.”
I explained that a relationship with Jesus meant following him, learning who he was, and giving up old habits and learning new ways of living. I encouraged them to read the Bible and find a church where they could get connected. That’s what I remember telling them, but I wouldn’t explain it the same way today. After years as a youth pastor and elder, and a lot more time in Scripture, I’ve come to understand some things I didn’t understand then. What I told them wasn’t wrong, but it wasn’t the whole picture. I still had a lot to learn about the Gospel myself, and we’ll get to that part of the story later.
They seemed to understand what I was telling them. But when they went back to their hometown, I have no idea what happened. That last part is still hard to write. I could tell them to find a church, but I don’t know whether they found one. I could encourage them to read the Bible, but I don’t know who was there when they had questions about what they were reading. All I know is that they went home, and we had other cities to visit and more shows to do.
Jeremiah and the Chaos on Wheels team signing autographs after an event. Frank Stewart blasting an air during practice at the Livin' It event in Lincoln, NE. Jeremiah getting the crowd hyped during a Livin' It event. Chaos rider Tim Oliver and Stephen Baldwin at a Livin' It event. AJ Haines warming up with style at a Livin' It event in Lincoln, NE. A rare photo of Jeremiah actually riding.
I understand why the big events were appealing to youth pastors and event organizers. An event host could tell donors, “1,000 people responded to the Gospel.” That was exciting, and it was something they could count. But making disciples could take years, with moments of great transformation and moments of falling back into old patterns. Somebody needed to be there through the questions and the mess. That was a lot harder to quantify and put in a report.
Looking back, I can see how my wrestling with these ideas went all the way back to my childhood, when I watched Dad run The Center. He was there, weekend after weekend, year after year, investing in the people who came through the doors. That was how he made an impact on their lives. Long before I had a BMX team or a show to put on, I’d seen what could happen when somebody kept being there.
The backyard ramps had given us a place to do that too. We rode together, but we also lived life together. The ramp in the Barn became another place where that could happen. When I wanted to build an indoor park, that was a big part of what I wanted to make room for. Mentoring, discipleship, life transformation, whatever you want to call it, I believed it happened when people were living life together, day after day.
Going on the road had been a pretty glamorous opportunity. We were traveling the country, riding in front of thousands of people, and signing autographs afterward. It was hard in its own way, and Jenn and I knew plenty about that part. But truly investing in people was less glamorous and a whole lot harder. You had to keep being there through the parts that didn’t make a good story for an event report.
I’d seen some of that slower work happen with the guys traveling in our van. We had hours together on the road, conversations that continued from one city to the next, and time to get to know each other beyond what people saw in the show. A few of those riders are following Jesus today because of that time together. We could leave a town and keep investing in those guys because they were with us. The people we’d just prayed with stayed behind.
Jenn and I were already talking about what our future should look like. We had two boys, another baby on the way, and a schedule that had asked a lot of our family. She’d made it work through long drives and difficult tours, but I couldn’t picture asking her to keep doing that with three kids. We were praying together, asking God for direction and wisdom. The conversation with those skateboarders confirmed something I was already feeling.
We still had commitments to keep. Over the next few weeks we kept doing shows while wrestling with the “why” behind our efforts. There were people we loved, good things that had happened, and work I still believed mattered. We were trying to figure out what came next.
For years, a big part of my job had been figuring out how to get everyone to the next town. Now Jenn and I were asking God where we could stay and invest in people, day after day. The desire for a permanent place had been there long before I met Jenn or we started touring. After all those miles, it was still there. I had no idea how soon we’d have an opportunity to find out what that could look like.
Jeremiah Anderson
Rooted Action Park Founder
If you enjoyed this story, share it with someone else who might enjoy following along. I have a lot more stories from these years that I’d like to tell, so leave a comment and let me know if you want me to keep writing them.
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