During my final semester in college, I took another step in learning more about who God is and how he made us. I was invited to go on a trip to Belize, in Central America, a place and people who were completely foreign and unknown to me. It was the first time I had the opportunity to take a trip like this. All of my life I had been playing tennis tournaments or needing rest from them.
My identity was growing into someone who followed God, but I was still far from feeling whole. I was still learning what it meant to be a man with a heart vulnerable and ready for God’s love. Part of this journey meant trying to find more of my purpose and calling.
I now believe that seeking to know God leads you to an important question: What does it mean to be a servant? As I was attending this new church, forming authentic friendships, and reading deeply moving books, this question started coming from inside my heart and mind. Most of my life, I had been wanting to be served, but I was intrigued by what it would be like to serve.
I'm not sure where this question came from but it was one of those times in my life when I felt things changing deep in my soul, moving from a more self-centered place toward an outward desire to help and serve other people. I was able to wrestle with this big question in Belize.
I had never been on a missions trip before. I had no idea what to expect, but I took everything very seriously. In some ways, I brought the same athletic intensity from the court into my desire to serve. I remember journaling about what the people were like. What kind of clothes do they wear? What do they eat? What desires do they have? What was daily life like for them? I had a heart of compassion coming from America and thinking that our world and our life was so much better compared to what they must struggle with and deal with on a daily basis.
There is much to be said from that entire week, but a few things are most important to share. One incredible storyline of that week was with my back — it did not hurt for one second of that week. I had known pain in my back every single day for the last four years — it was my biggest concern and obstacle about going on the trip where we would be doing construction work. In my prayers prior to the trip, God gave me the confidence that it would be okay. When I was digging in Belizean soil and lifting bags of concrete, my back never hurt once. It was a short-term miracle. As soon as I returned to the U.S., the pain came back. The one week of relief during mission work was a sweet gift and a sign from God that he was with me.
The larger story from that week was the change that happened to me as I fell in love with being a servant and was in awe of another culture where God is present and alive. I remember driving north on the rural highway. We were passing small villages of wood huts and thatch roofs. The sun was pouring through the clouds in a perfect pyramid pattern of shadows and light. I remember thinking, “God’s Kingdom is here.” I was blown away by the beauty of that reality. God truly is everywhere, not just in America.
The normal routine that week was to do construction work at a high school in the morning and then go do a Vacation Bible School in the afternoon. A few of us would jump in the back of an old, rusty pickup truck and trace through the four dirt roads in the village. My friend who spoke Spanish would yell out, “We are playing football (soccer) on the field!” The next 10 minutes looked like something out of a movie. Hundreds of kids emerged from their thatch roof houses and began running out on to the streets. They sprinted towards the field in droves. It was a beautiful sight.
As we began playing with the kids, I found myself in unchartered territory. I had never really played with kids before. I didn’t even have time to think about it. A few kids just ran up to me, saying, “Sir, please come?” They grabbed my hand and started running to the field. Normally quiet and shy, I went with it and found the fun, goofy, silly side of me that had been missing for a long time. I also found that everyone was amazing at soccer. It was their passion.
During that week, I wondered what these kids did for organized recreation because they seemed to love playing with us on the field. As I asked teachers, parents, and missionaries, I learned that the kids really did not have an organized form of play. This reality broke my heart. In the afternoons when I had time to do some reflection, I began realizing how my story was colliding with the stories of these kids. I started to realize how important sports had been in my life and could be in their lives as well.
I began feeling a sense of hope about the powerful role that sports played in my life. In that moment, I went from being so bitter and frustrated with why I put in all the hard work with tennis, and I realized that God had used sports to mold and shape me. So many blessing and gifts came from sports. This was the first time in my two-year identity crisis after quitting tennis that I realized the deep value of sports even though I could no longer compete physically. As I journaled and wrote out these thoughts, God brought faces of coaches and mentors and teammates to my mind. These brought moments of great joy and struggle on the athletic fields. This became a turning point for me. I suddenly felt incredible gratitude for the role of sports in my life.
Late in the week, I was continuing our work on the ditch. While digging, I was flooded with hope through a vision of bringing organized sports to the villages here in Belize. I was still reflecting on the powerful influence sports had made on my life. I was thinking that I could make an impact in children’s lives by developing programs that could bring to these kids the same incredible values and character-shaping moments that I received as an athlete. The goodness of that idea felt so pure. It was all coming from a desire to serve and make a difference. I put my shovel down, opened my journal, and just started writing. Probably 30 minutes later, I looked up. I felt an incredible amount of hope. One of my mentors says that hope is a “memory of the future.” These visions in my mind felt like they were real. I felt certain that these things would happen. It was indeed a memory of the future. I had no idea how it would happen, but I felt sure that it would.
(For some videos and stories of what has become konwn as “Sports Servants,” visit www.sportsservants.org)