the {heart} of an athlete

I’m not an athlete.  I wasn’t born with an athlete’s heart.  The kind of heart that deeply desires to be on a team… to compete… to fight through pain.  I wasn’t born that way, instead I bore one… a boy with the heart of an athlete.



I’m convinced, now more than ever, that you are either born with the heart of an athlete or you are not.  I think it is intrinsic… not learned.  



I’ve watched the “greats”… Michael Jordan, Pete Rose, Bret Favre… these who were the best-of-the-best in their day seemingly not know what to do with themselves when their bodies were no longer able to compete at a high level of competition.  I’ve watched them try come-backs and fail.   I’ve seen the aged veterans resent the young upstarts.   I’ve judged them harshly.   I judged that which I did not understand.


I’ve watched and judged these, and others, not understanding that within them beats the heart of an athlete.  An athlete’s heart continues to thump long after their body gives up.


I’ve seen this one {the one running in the black sweat pants} run and push himself to be faster, better… for the sake of the team.  It’s not that he likes to run, because he really hates it.  Instead, he runs because he loves the competition.  I’ve seen him cheer on his teammates because he loves being on the team.   I’ve seen him play through pain because it’s better than standing on the sidelines.


I don’t always understand the heart of this one that I bore fifteen years ago.  I pray often for it, though.  I pray that he will use this athletic heart that God has given Him to give all glory to God.  I pray that his heart will choose good and not evil.  I pray that his heart will always follow God’s will.  And, I pray, mostly, that he will allow God to use this time to mold and shape him into a man after God’s own heart.


…because right now the heart of my athlete is very restless. 

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