Finding a Way To Home and Healing
An Interview with Coach Ben Black
Amid the tragic loss of his twin brother in high school, Coach Ben Black ('02) discovered God’s healing and the steadfast support of the Providence community.
Reflecting on your time as a student at Providence, how would you describe your experience growing up in this community?
My twin brother, Chris, and I transferred to Providence right before our junior year. My mom had worked with ACSI for many years, and some lifelong friends recommended Providence as the best school in the area if she wanted her boys to attend a covenant Christian school. My mom also knew Dr. Jim Vaught through the Christian education community.
We weren’t sure what to expect since we had been at the same school in Virginia for 11 years and were leaving friends we had known since kindergarten. But when we came in over the summer, it was amazing how well we fit in with the guys on the basketball team—it felt like we had grown up with them. I truly felt that the Christian community at Providence was like a family.
I was pleasantly surprised to find that our class didn’t have any cliques. Sure, there were friend groups, but no one was an outcast—everyone had a place. I always found that remarkable and unique. In all my experience, both as a student and as an employee at other schools, I have never encountered such a welcoming and inclusive atmosphere.
What inspired you to return to Providence as a teacher, athletic trainer, and mentor?
I have always wanted to return to Providence and have my kids attend here because, even though I was a student for only two years, it felt like home to me. Remember, I had spent 11 years at my previous school in Virginia, but Providence became my home.
My wife, Autum, and I met at Liberty University, where I majored in athletic training and sports medicine. We stayed in Lynchburg, Virginia, for seven years, and I worked at the same school where I had spent 11 years as a student. I was the first full-time athletic trainer there and started the Sports Medicine program, teaching sports medicine classes and serving as a clinical instructor for Liberty University students completing rotations in a high school setting.
A few years later, we brought our infant son Wyatt—current senior, class of ‘26—to visit Providence. I realized I could do the same work I was doing in Virginia, but it wasn’t feasible at the time because of budget constraints. I spoke with Dr. Vaught and (Coach) Adam Cantrell about my desire to return, but it never worked out. Essentially, I had wanted to come back to Providence for ten years before God set everything in motion.
Then, in 2017, Autum encouraged me to take the boys on a trip from Central Pennsylvania to attend the annual alumni basketball game and visit my dad. We had moved to Pennsylvania in 2013 when I started working for my father-in-law in the firearms industry. God’s timing was perfect because a conversation with Coach Cantrell during that alumni game set in motion the process that brought our family back to Lilburn and to Providence.
When Adam told me about the job opening, I jokingly told him, “You better not be messing with me. I have wanted to return to Providence for so long that I might say yes to anything.” Autum and I could truly write a book about all the pieces that had to fall into place for us to be here. God opens the doors He wants us to walk through, and we needed faith that He would provide—and He truly has. We bought our house sight unseen, right across from the Lussi Athletic Complex, and have lived here ever since.
You are known for pouring into students not only academically but also spiritually and physically. What motivates you in this holistic approach to mentorship?
I firmly believe in the Truth that God has created each of us with unique talents, interests, and spiritual gifts to further His Kingdom. I also believe that God allows us to experience specific circumstances and challenges to prepare us for the ministry He has planned for our lives here on this side of Heaven.
Personally, I know I would not be the man I am today without experiencing the loss of my twin brother, Chris, in high school. While in college, I was certain that God was calling me to work in a high school setting. I never felt drawn to work at the collegiate level or in a sports medicine clinic. I truly believe that God allowed me to endure the tragedy of losing my brother to equip me to connect with high school students in a deeper, more meaningful way.
Regarding the holistic approach, God created us in His image, and we are not one-dimensional beings. We need to understand that the spiritual component of our existence is just as real, if not more impactful, than the physical world we see. I have always told my classes that academics are the least important thing in the scope of eternity. The most important question every person must answer in their lifetime is: “Who is Jesus?”
I approach teaching with an apologetics mindset, whether we are studying cellular processes in biology or the human body in sports medicine. My focus is always to point students to Christ, highlighting the wonder of His creation and the fact that we are made in His image. Even when I taught math, I explained how the consistency of mathematical principles points to intelligent design—order and concrete rules cannot logically arise from randomness or chance.
Could you share about the relationship you had with your twin brother and what he meant to you?
I haven’t reflected on this in a long time, but having lived longer without Chris than with him, I recognize how formative our bond was. As twins, it’s all you know. Our identity was always “the twins” or “the boys”—never Ben or Chris. We did everything together, not necessarily because we were best friends, but because we shared the same roof and the same age.
We were in the same class until 7th grade, played on the same teams, and were literal gym rats. In baseball, Chris was a pitcher, and I was the catcher. In basketball, he became a perimeter shooter while I played in the post. Despite these similarities, Chris and I were very different. We even had a teacher in Virginia who didn’t realize we were related, let alone twins. I am the older twin, born an hour and a half before him, but I was more like a middle child in temperament, while Chris was very much the “baby” of the family. We also have an older sister, Liz Mostatabi, known as Coach Liz at Providence.
One of the biggest ways Chris and I differed was personality. Chris was outgoing and talkative, while I was quiet and reserved—likely because Chris often dominated the conversation. I sometimes enjoyed seeing him get into harmless trouble, as he had a knack for reading people and playfully pushing buttons. I, on the other hand, liked my solitude; I spent hours building with Legos while Chris tried to get me outside to play.
We had our fair share of disagreements, but no matter what, we were always there for each other. I never felt alone with him around. Chris was my other half, and with him, I felt complete.
Many in the Providence community are aware of the tragic accident that took your brother’s life. Would you feel comfortable sharing parts of your story that you think are important?
As with tragic events in people’s lives, even though it’s been 24 years, I can remember almost everything from that week. Sometimes walking through the high school, especially near the media suite, triggers flashbacks. Our lockers were side by side there—mine on top, Chris’s directly below. I even remember locking eyes with Chris on 9/11 when the planes hit the towers in New York, just two months before Chris’s car accident.
The night before the accident, our basketball program held its “Midnight Madness” event, an intrasquad scrimmage to showcase the team for parents and fans. Chris and I guarded each other that night since we were the tallest on the team—me at 6’3” or 6’4” and Chris just an inch shorter. Afterwards, we went with friends to a surprise birthday party at a bowling alley, which kept us out late. That ends up being a very important part of the story because Chris and one of his best friends and current Athletic Director at Providence, Sean West, were planning on going on a college visit the following morning to Faulkner University in Montgomery, Alabama. I had been invited to go with them, but chose not to. I struggled with survivor's remorse afterward, feeling things would have been different if I had gone on the trip.
We returned late from the bowling party, and Chris still hadn’t packed for the trip. I got really frustrated with him, and we had a small argument. As I mentioned earlier, Chris was so good at getting under my skin that he knew exactly what to say to push my buttons. Unfortunately, the last thing I ever said to him was the most sarcastic, hateful-intentioned remark I could think of without cursing: “Have fun at Faulkner.” In that moment, I truly wanted his trip to be awful. That comment haunted me for years afterward. Chris left the next morning in our ‘94 Ford Ranger before I got up, and he drove to Sean’s house to pick him up.
Saturday, November 10, 2001, began quietly. My mom and I were the only ones at home. Dad was already at work,k and Liz was in college at Liberty University. Mom and I were enjoying our morning, and we decided to go down to the Discover Mills Mall, now called Sugarloaf Mills, to get out of the house for a bit.
Now, the next part of my story may sound a bit crazy, but I feel that it is proof that the Holy Spirit is grieved when bad things happen and that we have a spiritual connection with those we are close to. I remember this like it was yesterday. Mom and I were walking around the mall, and we were in the section by Books-A-Million, and I, out of nowhere, felt all the energy in my body drain out. I went from feeling normal, happy, and enjoying my time with my mother all to myself, to feeling like my body was very heavy. This was right around 10:30 a.m. Mom and I walked around for a little longer, and my mom asked me if I wanted to stay longer and get lunch at the food court or if I wanted to head home. I told her that I was feeling tired; I figured I was just tired from being out late the night before and didn’t think anything about feeling drained of energy. We ended up calling my dad from a pay phone to check in with him and let him know what we were doing. We had to use a pay phone because Chris and I had left our family cell phone in a friend’s car coming back from the party.
Mom and I got home, and she started making quesadillas for lunch, and the house phone rang. I answered it, and it was my dad. In a panicked-stricken voice, he said, “Ben, put your mother on the phone, now!” I handed the phone to Mom and went into the living room. I will never forget the scream that my mom let out as she said repeatedly, “Not my Christopher! Not my Christopher!” I jumped up, fearing the worst and praying to God that Chris and Sean were OK. She told me that the boys had been in a car accident on I-85 near Opelika, Alabama, and that we needed to get down to my dad to get him and head to Birmingham, where they were life-flighting Chris.
Even amid the chaos, the Providence community had already mobilized its prayer tree to support us. Without our family's cell phone, we borrowed a phone from a friend, Michal, and drove to my dad’s pharmacy. I prayed desperately the entire way: “Lord, please don’t take Chris from me. You can’t. Please don’t take him!” Minutes later, my mom ran out of the pharmacy screaming, “He never woke up!” Dad told me that we were not going to drive to Birmingham, handed me the keys to his car, and told me to head back to the house. I have no idea how I was able to drive Dad’s car home. The Holy Spirit or guardian angel was watching over Michal and me as we went back to the house. I was crying so hard that I could barely see. At home, I just went into Chris’s room and sobbed on his bed.
As the word got out, people from Providence started showing up to the house. We were immediately surrounded by love and support. Teachers, coaches, friends, and classmates showed up to comfort us, and our sister, Liz, returned from Liberty University with friends. I ended up sleeping in Chris’s room for the next few nights.
As we got the details of the crash, tragically, we learned, while driving, Chris fell asleep at the wheel. When he woke suddenly in a panic, he over-corrected the truck, lost control, and it flipped multiple times. Sean was thrown from the vehicle, and Chris did not survive. Here is the crazy part. Remember how I mentioned feeling all the energy drain out of my body? The accident ended up being at the same time, 9:30 a.m. Central time, 10:30 a.m. Eastern time. If mom and I had not left the mall when we did and gotten home when we did, then my dad would have had no way to get a hold of us.
I believe that Chris’s accident was the first major student tragedy that the Providence school community had experienced. It rocked the entire school community. The next week was a whirlwind. There was an assembly first thing Monday morning in the high school auditorium. I showed up because I had felt the Holy Spirit tell me that I needed to talk to the school and tell everyone that it was ok to grieve. We had all lost someone. I had lost my twin brother, but they had also lost a friend. I also brought Chris’s basketball and baseball jerseys for the senior class, teammates, teachers, and coaches to sign.
Chris’s memorial service was the Wednesday of that week and was held at Perimeter Church. People from all over showed up. Most of our classmates from our school in Virginia came down. There were even kids from other schools that we played basketball against who came. Dr. Jerry Falwell even flew down from Virginia to preach at the service. The sanctuary was full. I felt like the entire Providence community was there to support us. Chris was buried that Friday outside of Philadelphia in the same cemetery where several of our family members are buried.
I came right back to school and basketball the next week. I was told by everyone to take time if I needed it, but I did not want to be alone. I needed to find a new normal. I focused on basketball and friends. The days without Chris turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, and I found my new routine. The truth is that the loneliness did not hit me until basketball season was over. I decided not to play baseball that year because baseball was Chris’s sport. He was so much better at it than me. He was a 6’2” lefty pitcher with a lot of potential, and he had aspired to play at the next level. I just couldn’t be on the field without him. I was also physically and spiritually drained from an emotional basketball season. Coming home to an empty house was eerie but it was my new normal.
How did your life and perspective change following that tragedy?
Everything changed. As a teenager, you feel invincible, like nothing bad will ever happen to you. The reality that we are not guaranteed tomorrow came crashing down on me. I was only 17 at the time, so I had a lot to learn and process.
One immediate change was my fear of public speaking. Before the accident, I would stutter and shake during presentations in front of the class. But after speaking to the high school community the Monday following Chris’s death, I never feared speaking in front of crowds again.
In the years since, I’ve come to understand that God allows us to go through certain trials to prepare us for the work He has for us in His Kingdom. Losing my brother revealed gifts in me that I had not recognized before—communication, relationship-building, and caretaking—all of which are central to my ministry and responsibilities at Providence.
My perspective on the concept of “home” also changed. After graduating, I returned to Liberty University in Virginia, a city I had lived in for 12 years among childhood friends. Yet every time I visited Providence, I felt at home. No matter where we lived—Virginia or Pennsylvania—Providence always felt like home, and I longed to return to this community.
In what ways did the Providence community come alongside you and your family during that difficult time?
The Providence community surrounded my family and took care of us when we were shocked and broken. One Providence family even covered all the burial expenses, a generosity my family had never witnessed before.
At school, I was never alone in the months that followed. Coaches and teachers consistently poured into my life. Familiar names like Adam Cantrell, Mark Nalepa, Jim Vaught, and Ken Hunsberger remain spiritual mentors to me today. That 2001–2002 school year was incredibly special at Providence. I continued to play basketball, and it felt like the entire community attended our home games, including our run in the state tournament. Our basketball team won the program’s first region championship against Wesleyan by 18 points and reached the Elite 8—a feat only surpassed by the 2023 team that made it to the state championship. The gym was packed for every game, and I truly felt the love and support of the Providence family.
How has your personal faith journey influenced your teaching style and relationships with students?
One of my biggest pet peeves is people who are fake or put on a “mask,” acting differently around different groups. I want to live authentically and demonstrate a genuine faith in our Savior. God has taught me so much as I’ve grown older, yet Satan still uses the same tactics—attacking me with lies of loneliness, inadequacy, and doubt. I struggled with these even before losing Chris. Ironically, my life verse growing up was Joshua 1:9, a reminder that God is always with us. It’s amazing how we can hear God’s Truth and still wrestle with Satan’s lies.
I aim to be authentic with my students. I openly share aspects of my testimony to convey what God has taught me, hoping they can learn spiritually without repeating my mistakes. You can’t build meaningful relationships with students unless you are real with them.
Regarding my teaching style, I don’t follow a rigid script. I communicate the lesson I want students to learn, often sharing stories from personal experience and injuries I’ve encountered. One key component of my philosophy is: “Students don’t care what you know until they know that you care.” I always prioritize the relationship first, then the content. Students can tell if you genuinely care, and that authenticity is essential for effective teaching and mentorship.
How do you integrate your faith into your varied roles as a teacher, athletic trainer, and mentor?
There is an important concept that I feel many Christians misunderstand. As I mentioned before, God has created each of us with unique talents, interests, and gifts for the work He has called us to do. He also commands us, in Colossians 3, to work as unto the Lord and not to man. I believe God has brought my family and me to Providence for a specific mission. Providence is the mission field He prepared for me.
I don’t view my roles as athletic trainer and teacher as just “jobs.” They are callings. As an athletic trainer, I provide medical care while also sharing the love of Jesus, ministering to those in need. As a teacher, I not only teach the curriculum but also point students to the truth of Jesus, helping them understand the world He created.
As a mentor, the most important lesson I hope to instill is that identity is found in Christ. Our culture encourages us to seek success, money, or pleasure as sources of fulfillment, but true fulfillment comes from Jesus. Admittedly, I once defined my identity as a twin, feeling incomplete when Chris died. We are made whole in Christ. Faith in Him sustains us through life, and our ultimate purpose is to be in eternal relationship with Him, not just for this earthly life.
In your view, what distinguishes Providence Christian Academy from other Christian schools?
What I love most about Providence is that we are a Christian school without affiliation to any specific church or denomination. We are a Christian community of families who want our children to be raised learning the truth of God’s Word and the Gospel message—that Christ died for all and that there is no discrimination in the Kingdom of God.
Many Christian schools get caught up in church politics or denominational traditions, which can hinder the mission of a school. Providence strikes a balance: we are large enough to have excellent facilities and compete with other schools, but not so large that a student can go unnoticed throughout the day. Faculty and administration genuinely love the students; if they don’t, they don’t stay long.
Spiritual life is a cornerstone here. Programs like Axis, Encounter, and Spiritual Emphasis are carefully planned and prayed over—something not seen at many other schools. While academics, finances, and growth are important, Christ must always be the focus. When He is, everything else falls into place. Providence remains committed to keeping Him at the center of education, mentorship, and community life.