Early morning — it’s silent in the gym. The lights that prefer to be bright are only half-lit as I lace up my shoes on the bottom row of the bleachers. The first bounce of the practice ball echoes throughout the fieldhouse, the sound reverberating little bits of my soul as the familiarity of the 28.5 Wilson leather hits my hands again.
The last voices fade away as the dugout vacates. Dirty socks in slides and the chill after the heat and sweat of a doubleheader set in. Tired feet, the grime of the field crusted on my elbows, shins, and face. The sting of today’s slide grabs my attention as my knee bends, after sealing up during the post-game chatter and the coach’s talk. But the lightness of the game hangs sweet about my heart.
I loved it.
The game — the team, the play, the competition, the risk, the challenge. It was the smells, the sounds, and the feels. I loved it all. Playing sports did something to my soul. It was like something real opened its eyes within me when I was part of the game. And it won my heart for years of my childhood, deeply motivating me all the way until I graduated from college.
Fast forward — sidelines, I stand with my daughters, my skin breathing in the familiarity of dirt rising from the ground as a volleyball hits during a game at the Rec Park. Before I met Jesus, this — sports — was the closest thing I knew to goodness. For so long, it took His place on the throne of my life. And now, heart tentative and exploding while I stand beside Him, we look together at this field that sits at His feet, and I wonder —
“Man, what are You going to do with this thing, Jesus?” I hear my heart whisper.
Courteney Barnes — our Rec Park Director, fellow Hope grad, and Women’s Basketball alumna — and I love this conversation. Deeply relating in our experiences as athletes, we feel like we both have so much skin in the game. We want to see the goodness we knew there be known by so many here on this ground — yet this time, in its rightful place beside the Maker.
It’s hard to really pinpoint why and how we were so impacted by something as seemingly simple as games — but sports were where we learned how to do life. In many ways, sports are this crazy canvas for deep human experiences. It’s where our people were — because we grew together, failed together, ate together, celebrated each other, lifted each other up when we sucked. This is where we learned to work out conflict and call each other out. We learned to be coached, to let someone else help us get better.
Maybe more than anything, this was where we learned to belong. To have people know not only our name but know us, really see us. We were loved through failure and disappointment. Yes, it was about a game — but we were part of something a bit bigger than ourselves. And these were people to whom we belonged.
And this is what we’re after at Poetice. Our Rec Park is not just a sideline gig we do to stay physically healthy (though that is certainly valuable). Our Rec Park is a part of Poetice that invites people — all people—to come as they are and be seen here. To be championed and coached to be better players and people. Through risks on the field, we hope to teach how to embrace failure; and allow it to be a meeting place for Jesus to define us. We want everyone who steps onto our fields or courts to feel that same sense of belonging — the feeling of being known and loved for exactly who they are, just as we were when the game was all we had.
We are building something bigger than sports here. And with every pass, every shot, every sprint, we’re reminded that the game is just the canvas. This is where we belong — to play, to fail, and to be a part of something so. much. bigger. than ourselves. This is about the King and His Kingdom. And in His game, no one sits on the sidelines — everyone is invited to play.
BLOG BY ABIGAIL VAN PEURSEM | POETICE CEO