BASIC, Brothers and Sisters in Christ, didn’t begin with a grand vision in El Paso. It began simply and unassumingly.
One evening at UTEP, a few of us from Grace Korean Church and El Paso Korean Baptist found ourselves in a small classroom. Someone brought a guitar, someone else set up a projector, or maybe we passed around printed lyrics. Two churches came together that night. What we didn’t realize then was that God was stitching together something far bigger than a joint youth event. That night was the spark.
Over the months that followed, BASIC quietly grew. Other churches joined in, and what started as two youth groups soon became almost every Korean church in El Paso gathering on Friday nights. There were no professional pastors leading it. No budgets. Just a few college students and young adults who believed God could build something with whoever was willing. They picked up younger kids for rides, borrowed sound equipment, brought snacks, and stayed late to talk with anyone who needed it.
At the time, we didn’t think much of it. It was just where we went on Fridays.
But looking back now, we realize how much was taking root.
BASIC was where many of us first learned what it meant to see God move. It’s where we took our first steps in faith, where we witnessed His grace, His mercy, His blessings, and even His miracles. We saw lives change, sometimes dramatically and sometimes quietly. For some, it was the first place we truly felt like we belonged.
It was also where friendships were formed that have lasted a lifetime, where faith shifted from something our parents believed to something we began to claim as our own.
There were retreats where we stayed up until sunrise talking. Revivals where we sang louder than we thought we could. Long car rides filled with laughter, serious conversations, and silence that felt safe.
It wasn’t a perfect place. We were so far from being perfect. But it was real. And it shaped us more than we understood at the time.
Now, decades later, we look back with deep gratitude. BASIC was a quiet shaping—a reminder that God often works through simple things: shared meals, late-night talks, someone showing up when they didn’t have to.
And maybe that’s why it still matters. Not because it was impressive or well-organized, but because it was faithful. It was ours.
Which leads us to the question we can no longer ignore:
What will we do with what He gave us then, and all He’s given us since?
We were once the ones being poured into. Now we are the ones who carry the stories, the faith, the responsibility.