I’ve been thinking a lot about aging lately. Not in a dramatic, mid‑life‑crisis sort of way—more like a quiet realization that sneaks up on you when you’re not paying attention. It happens in ordinary moments. A familiar ache in the knee. A student calling the 1990s “the olden days.” Or, most recently, the startling awareness that I learned to score a basketball game nearly forty years ago.
Forty years. I’ve been keeping a running score for twice as long as many of my students have been alive. That’s the kind of math that makes you sit down for a minute.
I remember when the three‑point line was new, when the shot clock felt like a radical idea, when uniforms were shorter, then longer, then shorter again. I didn’t live through the era of women’s half‑court basketball, but I’ve seen enough change to know that every generation gets its own version of the game. And every generation insists theirs was the best.
But there’s one thing that hasn’t changed—not in my lifetime, not in any era. The most compelling athletes aren’t the flashiest or the strongest, they’re the ones who carry themselves with humility, who understand that their abilities are a gift from God, not a guarantee. They’re the ones who use those gifts additionally to serve others. That kind of athlete transcends time. That kind of athlete stays with you.
C.J. Mahaney writes about this in Don’t Waste Your Sports, drawing from the Timeless Wisdom of Scripture to paint a picture of what a humble, grateful athlete looks like. He points out how rare humility has become in sports today—how easy it is to get swept up in ego, attention, and the pressure to perform. Yet humility, he reminds us, draws God’s attention. It invites His grace. And it’s available to everyone, whether you’re a varsity starter or a JV reserve.
In efforts to avoid Wasted Sports, Mahaney proposes that all of us engaged with sports, take on a posture of humility and gratefulness, and we can do this by: recognizing our limitations, acknowledging the contribution of others, being gracious in defeat and modest in victory, honoring the coach or leader, respecting officials, and giving God the glory for any athletic accomplishments. These aren’t just good habits; they’re reflections of Jesus Christ, the ultimate servant leader and the teammate we all wish we had.
I’ve watched sports become increasingly commercialized over the years. Bigger contracts, louder branding, more pressure, more noise. I don’t expect that trend to reverse anytime soon. But I do believe God still gives us opportunities to redeem our experiences in sports—to treat them as the gifts they are rather than the idols they can become, but that line between enjoyment and idolization is thinner than we like to admit.
Mahaney puts it plainly: there’s no “just do it” approach to glorifying God in sports. No drill or workout plan can keep our hearts from drifting. We’re all prone to worship something other than God if left to ourselves. Choosing a different path—what I call Swimming Upstream—isn’t easy. But it’s worth it.
And maybe that’s what aging has taught me most. Not that time is slipping away, but that perspective is sharpening. I see more clearly now what matters in sports and what doesn’t. The wins fade. The stats fade. The highlight reels fade. But humility? Gratitude? Servanthood? Those things last.
“I urge you: whatever you do—whether you play football or soccer, whether you’re practicing or playing, whether you’re in Little League or the pros, whether you win or lose—whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.” That’s the kind of legacy worth leaving.
Reference:
Flourishing @ Life 