What Uber Taught Me About People, Ministry, and Listening

By Bryan A. Sands

Over the years, I’ve given more than 3,459 rides to people from every imaginable background. I’ve driven pastors and atheists, Christians and people of other faiths, wealthy professionals and people struggling to make ends meet. I’ve had conversations about God, death, politics, relationships, religion, worldviews, and life — sometimes I’ve simply listened and other times I asked open-ended questions.

Those 3,459 rides have impacted my life in three significant ways: They changed my approach to ministry, opened my eyes to a world much bigger than my Christian bubble, and taught me how to have meaningful conversations with people who don’t agree with me.

Changing My Approach to Ministry

I was ordained at the age of 21, and I have pretty much always been in full-time ministry, whether in the church or university world. But something happened in 2017 that changed my mindset about ministry.

My wife, Caz, took a year off from full-time ministry because she was burned out. That meant I needed to find a way to make some extra money, so I started driving for Uber every Friday night in Orange County and Los Angeles County. I left the university world and entered the rideshare world.

On one of those rides, I met a man named Sal who started asking me theological questions. I asked him questions in return because I wanted to understand where he was coming from. At one point, his response was something like, “Why don’t you just say it?”

Looking back on that ride, I am not sure exactly what he was trying to pin me down on, but I remember a strange feeling that he wanted me to give him a particular answer. I was more interested in the conversation. To be blunt, I don’t shy away from talking about the death and resurrection of Jesus or the hope we have in Him. But it’s wise to understand where a person is coming from first. I would rather seek to understand.

Sal seemed to want canned answers, and that did not sit well with me.

The juxtaposition of that story happened in 2024, when I started driving Uber again (this time in Hawaii) during a ministry transition. I know; I know! If someone had to live in Hawaii, it might as well be me.

One night, I was driving a young man and young woman to their destination somewhere in Waikiki. The woman started asking me what I really did, which was a common question I received while driving. I told her that we were starting a church that was louder for the things Jesus is for and that was trauma-informed. We had a great back-and-forth conversation.

When we arrived at their destination, the young woman got out first. The young man, who had been relatively quiet, slid over to get out. But before he left, he said to me, “You know, you’re not the devil.”

Not the devil!

My first thought was, “Well, I’m glad he doesn’t think I’m the devil.” I took it as a compliment. But my second thought went much deeper: What must have happened in this young man’s life for him to come to the conclusion that Christians or pastors are the devil?

What hurt from someone in Jesus’ name must have happened to this young man?

Going back to the story with Sal, who was dogmatic about what he believed, I began to wonder if Christians — even when they believed they were doing the right thing — had sometimes done more harm than good in this young man’s life.

Was he picked on?

Was he called out by Christians?

Had Christians made him feel unwelcome?

And then I thought, Why did it take this long for this young man to meet a Christian he didn’t think was the devil?

Trips like these were pivotal in changing how I viewed ministry. I began realizing that there is an entire world outside the walls of the church. People have been hurt, and, as followers of Jesus, it is our responsibility to love like Jesus loved.

And who did Jesus attract? The outcast. The marginalized. The people society had pushed aside. The sinners.

As I started conversing with and listening to people from all walks of life, I became a stronger proponent of going to where the people are — the unchurched, the outcast, the marginalized, the sinners. We go to them, not to condemn but to meet them where they are, build relationships, and ask the Holy Spirit to guide us.

It is one of the reasons why I am regularly involved in the community.

Opening My Eyes to a World Much Bigger Than My Christian Bubble

It is easy to get caught up in the church world and forget about the larger world around us and how the people around us actually live. Uber opened my eyes to a world much bigger than my Christian bubble.

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 “As I started conversing with and listening to people from all walks of life, I became a stronger proponent of going to where the people are — the unchurched, the outcast, the marginalized, the sinners.”

If it were not for Uber, I would never have met a group of nudists (they were clothed in my car), fortune tellers, club managers, or a single swinger. Each of these encounters was fascinating, not simply because of the lifestyles they represented, but because they forced me to interact with people whose worlds were very different from mine.

In some cases, I wasn’t even sure what to ask. I had never encountered some of these lifestyles firsthand, and I quickly realized that I could either make assumptions about people or become curious about them. Most of the time, I chose curiosity. I asked open-ended questions and let the conversation develop naturally.

One afternoon, a group of six people hopped into my car for a ride. We began with some pleasantries, and then I asked something like, “What do all of you do?”

Their response was not what I expected.

They told me they were nudists.

“You mean, you hang out naked?”

They said yes.

In conversation they said they were all platonic friends, and then I heard from the back, “Well… there was this one time,” and they went on to share that two of them had gotten together once. I then jokingly said, “You broke the nudist code!” I have no idea if there is even a code.

I wasn’t sure what to say after that. I had never met one nudist, let alone a group of them. If I’m honest, I think I was so thrown off by their lifestyle that I wasn’t able to bring the conversation back to their faith.

That experience taught me something. Sometimes we encounter people who live so differently from us that we don’t even know where to begin. But that doesn’t mean we should disengage. It means we may need to ask better questions and simply listen.

When I picked up two fortune tellers, they were in Redondo Beach, California, on July 4. I asked the two young women who entered my vehicle what they were doing for the Fourth, and they told me they were reading fortunes. I don’t remember if they had tarot cards with them or if they were reading palms, but they indicated that this was how they made money.

At the time, I didn’t think much beyond the conversation in front of me. Looking back, however, I realize I had so many more questions I could have asked: How did you get into this? Why do you do it? What do you believe about what you’re doing?

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 “Sometimes we encounter people who live so differently from us that we don’t even know where to begin. But that doesn’t mean we should disengage.”

I didn’t have enough time to get to those questions or to the ultimate source of all there is — God. But the encounter reminded me that there are people all around us whose beliefs and experiences may be completely different from our own. If we want to engage them, we first have to be willing to listen and learn.

While driving in Hawaii, I also picked up two different longtime booking managers of a swanky club in the heart of Waikiki. On separate occasions, they told me about various famous artists who had performed there, their interactions with them, and even some behind-the-scenes stories.

Meeting a swinger was another interesting experience — another situation I was not prepared for. I picked up a young man at his military base and drove him into Waikiki. He was on a special assignment, had a couple of days off, and wanted to relax. He asked me if I knew of any swinger clubs in the area.

I clarified what he meant and then responded, “I’m not aware of any swinger clubs around here. Is that what you’re into?”

He told me he was single but enjoyed going to these meetups and getting to know other people. Again, I found myself in a situation where I almost didn’t know what to say. But I knew I could ask questions.

As the ride came to an end, I was able to share a little about my own family and the joys of family, hopefully planting some seeds about family and commitment.

I share these stories not for shock value, but to illustrate that we live in a big world where people have different lifestyles, worldviews, moral systems, and belief systems. Some simply do not believe what we believe as followers of Jesus.

Uber reminded me that there is a whole world outside our Christian bubbles. And if we are going to engage with our culture, we need to know the people who are actually living in it.

How do we engage with our culture if we don’t know who is living next to us or what is happening around us?

We listen.

Listening and asking questions are what get to the heart of an issue. More importantly, listening gets to the heart of the person with whom we are conversing.

Meaningful Conversations With People Who Don’t Agree With Me

If I was going to give thousands of rides, I knew I would eventually find myself in situations where I would have to rely on my ability to diffuse tension, listen carefully, and find common ground. One of those situations happened when I picked up two businessmen from a bar.

The man sitting behind me — let’s call him Steve — berated me for my faith and for being a pastor during much of the 40-minute trip. As they got into the vehicle, it was evident that Steve was the more intoxicated of the two and the more vocal.

Steve asked what I did. I explained that I was a pastor and was working on planting a church. He immediately started firing questions at me:

“Can you prove there is a God?”

“Why do bad things happen?”

“Why do you believe the Bible?”

As he blurted out these questions, I would begin to answer, but he would interrupt me and move on to the next question. He wasn’t really giving me an opportunity to answer any of them.

It turns out, he didn’t really want those questions answered. I’ll come back to that in just a moment.

Steve became increasingly aggressive in his tone, so much so that his business partner repeatedly said, “Hey, man. Let’s calm down.” Steve would calm down for a moment and then start again.

As he berated my faith and became angrier, I began contemplating whether I should pull over and ask them to leave. But another thought came to me — perhaps from the Holy Spirit.

I said something like, “Steve, I’m happy to talk and discuss faith, but I will not do so if you keep up this tone and attitude.”

The tone shifted.

Steve started talking about his wife, and not in friendly terms.

“I hate my wife. I hate her faith.”

His business partner said, “You don’t mean that.” Steve doubled down and said that he did mean it.

Then Steve asked me, “Is your life perfect?”

I thought that was an interesting question. I responded by trying to be vulnerable. I told him that my journey to faith, and even my life as a man of faith, has included uncertainty, anxiety, and questions at times. I boldly told him that my life was not perfect. I don’t have it easy. No one does.

The tone shifted even more.

Steve shared that he has two sons and one stepdaughter. All three children struggle with severe heroin addiction. His stepdaughter’s baby also suffers from health issues caused by the drug use. Frustrated and angry, Steve vented about his deep hatred for drugs and the pain of watching his family suffer. He was especially upset about having to pick up his son from jail the very next day.

For Steve, life felt like one hard challenge after another.

And then I realized something: Steve wasn’t really angry at me. He was angry at God.

Yelling at me was a smokescreen.

It wasn’t until I was willing to listen and go on this journey with him that we got to the root of his anger. What began as an angry, hostile conversation about faith eventually became a deeply personal conversation about pain, family, addiction, and disappointment.

For the last five minutes of the ride, we had a very heartwarming conversation. Steve seemed to feel some relief, and he showed his appreciation to me with a large tip.

That ride taught me something important: Sometimes the question someone asks isn’t really the question they are asking.

Steve asked about God, the Bible, and faith. But underneath those questions was something much deeper — pain. If I had simply tried to win an argument or answer every question he threw at me, I might have missed the person behind the questions.

Inviting Conversations

I am thankful for my experiences driving for Uber. They changed my approach to ministry, opened my eyes to a world much bigger than my Christian bubble, and taught me how to have meaningful conversations with people who don’t agree with me.

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 “Sometimes the question someone asks isn’t really the question they are asking.”

Through all of these encounters, it became apparent that listening and asking questions are what get to the heart of an issue. More importantly, listening gets to the heart of the person with whom we are conversing.

Sometimes people need an answer. Sometimes they need someone to ask another question. And sometimes, before they are ready to hear anything about Jesus, they simply need someone willing to listen.
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