As I grew older and my roots in the Christian faith deepened into Church leadership, I realized that the fleet and the Gospel have been in a long conversation all along.

When I look around at the people in my life and the stories filling my community, I see a pattern of upheaval that feels almost magnetic. It is as if a collective timer went off, signaling that the lives we were living are no longer large enough to hold us.

The car is still, but the world is in motion. I sit in my parking lot pew, the sanctuary of a dashboard altar, windows all the way down, letting September air baptize me with a breeze that still carries the memory of summer but already hints at the sting of coming winter.

An unseen source of all beauty, truth, and goodness was seen by many early Christians as pointing toward God.