“Small” Stuff
Why is it harder to follow Jesus in the little things?
I’ve been wrestling with this in a surprising arena: high school sports. In my relatively brief time at my school, I’ve become quite ingrained in the athletic community. This is admittedly odd, as I do not—and have never—considered myself much of an athlete. I do, however, have the blessing of announcing for many of our sports teams. I also had a brief stint as a soccer coach: turns out watching Ted Lasso is a lot more fun than being Ted Lasso.
The more involved I’ve become in sports, the more I appreciate how challenging it is to actually be an athlete, coach, or even just a fan who seeks to honor Jesus. I have, therefore, been all the more impressed by the coaches and athletes I’ve gotten to know at my school. With extremely rare exceptions, our community is full of adults and students alike passionately trying to follow Jesus.
As an example: we have a tradition in our soccer program where after each match a member of our team invites the other school to pray with us. Most of the schools in our conference are not Christian, but some graciously join us anyway. I won’t ever forget how eager my players were to go invite these schools to pray. Further, this actively shaped how our students compete. They play hard, but these players will be the first to tell you that they are constantly considering the fact they are going to ask their opponents to join them in communing with God at the end of that game.
To be clear, our players did not invent this idea. Our teams are led by coaches who are passionately devoted to Jesus. Even as they strive for victory, they consistently remind our stuents that athletics is—more than anything—a vehicle for refining their character and proclaiming the name of Jesus through how they speak and play. I am constantly impressed by these coaches’ ability to lead our players in such a godly fashion.
It’s the fans who make things…interesting.
On certain occasions, I’ve found myself particularly frustrated at some of our home crowds, especially our more “passionate” students. To be fair to them, their behavior would not strike most as problematic. Chanting “air ball” after someone misses a shot or heckling an opposing player would—and many of my colleagues feel should—fall far below the threshold of anything deserving a reprimand. As many adults and students have insisted to me: “that’s just a part of sports.”
Still, I can’t shake the feeling that people who follow Jesus should be different, even in these small things. I keep thinking that for some of the schools in our conference—and the students and families who are a part of them—our fields, courts, and stands might provide one of their only glimpses into what it looks like to be Christian. If we are to do everything, both “word or deed…in the name of the Lord Jesus,” why would we exempt how we act at a game?
My real trouble, though, is figuring out how to communicate this in a way that others will actually receive and consider. This is easily the most benign topic I’ve written about on this site, and yet it’s proven the hardest to genuinely discuss. One wouldn’t think it would be easier to get people talking about the definition of freedom or the supposed sanctity of democracy than how to act at a basketball game, but that’s precisely where I find myself.
The natural solution might be to just let such a small point go, but I can’t seem to do that either. Honestly, I think it’s because it’s nice to finally discuss an issue on this site where I feel I could actually inspire change. I don’t expect my little posts to change America’s willingness to, say, demand actual godliness from leaders who claim to represent Jesus. The trouble with something as narrow as sportsmanship is that change—especially within a small community like mine—is so very, very possible.
Much of my motivation to press this point also has to do with the most common justification I hear from those telling me to let this go: “that’s just sports.” Many have assured me that I would see this kind of behavior at every level of competition, all across the country. This point is pretty obvious. One does not need to “know ball” to be aware of how people act in the stands.
Equally obvious, though, is the fact that this justification falls entirely short of the standard for the people of God. We’re supposed to live like Jesus, not everyone else. Jesus told us we should expect to be hated for living this way, though only because the world hated him first. Living differently—and suffering for it—are part of being truly Christian: it’s why our Lord prayed not that we would be taken out of the world, but that we would be sanctified—made holy; different; set apart—and remain in the world.
Further, I think something as seemingly benign as sports provides a perfect opportunity for my students—and any adults who decide they want to get on board—to practice following Jesus. Consider the setting: youth sport presents an emotionally charged environment, but with quite low stakes—especially for fans. The average weeknight game holds little actual significance for those watching; it just feels like it does in the moment. This provides an ideal environment to invite people to reflect on how they’re acting before real damage is done. Why can’t the way we cheer at a game be practice for how we handle complicated emotions—pride; envy; anger; outrage—at real turning points in our lives? Why can’t we take advantage of every possible moment to figure out how to be more like Jesus?
Given all this, I don’t think I’ll let this go. I’ll catch flack for it, as I already have. Some students will dismiss me as out of touch; some colleagues will chide me for being overbearing or legalistic. I won’t pretend that isn’t going to sting a bit, as it already has. I love the communities in which I find myself, and anything that distances me from them hurts more than you might think.
I think that pain is worth it, though. I think it’s worth it to see the faces of those students who don’t write me off when I bring this up. I cherish the thoughtful nods; the eyebrows raised in curiosity; the subtle affirmation that I might have a point. It gives me hope these students will get to see the moment that really matters—when someone from another school asks more about Jesus because our community is trying to live like him.
“You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.” Even at a basketball game.