Playing hurt in sports, life and church

by Paul Zabel

Hamilton Tiger Cats' Otis Floyd, tackles Edmonton Eskimo Maurice Mann during CFL football action on Aug. 29 (John Ulan/Canadian Press)

I love this time of year! Part of the reason is that I love football. I’ll watch every game I can, and I’ll even be satisfied to watch part of a game in progress when I return home from wherever I’ve been. I believe every football fan—in fact, every sports fan—knows the term “playing hurt.” A player sustains a concussion, receives a bruise or breaks a bone. His teammates carry him off the field, trainers cart him into the locker room where they examine, treat and tape him, and a few minutes later a cheer erupts from the crowd. The player re-enters the game! His wife and parents may wince with fear, but his fans are ecstatic and his team inspired. This is no sissy here, fellas. This is a man of courage. He “plays hurt.”

The downside to playing hurt is that “for the good of the game” a player may permanently damage his body, shorten his career or even jeopardize his life. Baseball fans remember how the great Dizzy Dean developed arm trouble at the age of 26, in the prime of his career, but kept pitching. The next year he was out of the game. More recently, the same thing happened with Mark “The Bird” Fridrych, who played for the Detroit Tigers.

That said, I want to put in a good word about playing hurt…but in real life, not in sports. In sports, I say “take care of your­self.” The fans may cheer for the moment, but you’ll carry that limp a long time after they’ve forgotten your name.

At church it’s different. Do you know a situation like this one? Someone in the congregation says something that hurts someone, so they quit coming. They haven’t been back in years. Now, I love those people and I wish they had “played hurt”—that is, gone on to church anyway, stayed in their position, and continued serving their Lord and His church. If we leave the field every time someone takes a cheap shot at us, we won’t last long.

Pastors do it all the time. It’s a rare pastor who, after putting in several decades of ministry, has not at one time or another had some group or individual organizing against him, second-guessing his preaching, even undercutting his every move. What does he do? He “girds up his loins”—Bible talk for sucking it up—and walks into the pul­pit the next Sunday and gives it his best effort. If he’s a man of integrity, and he almost always is, you would never know by the sermon that he’s under personal attack. He’s playing hurt. He does it so well the congregation is often sur­prised to learn what a heavy burden he’s carrying.

Look at our Lord in the Upper Room with His disciples. He’s the only one there who knows what’s coming. Judas has left to seek his collaborators to betray the Lord. The shadow of the cross looms. What is Jesus doing this night but cheer­ing up His disciples and preparing them for what lies ahead? We call the account recorded for us in John 13-16 “The Upper Room Discourse.” It’s a picture of our Lord playing hurt.

Fast-forward a few hours and see Jesus nailed to the cross. Forsaken by most of His disciples, surrounded by a sea of spitting tormentors, Jesus is bleed­ing, hurting and lonely. Yet He prays for forgiveness for His murderers, gives eter­nal life to a dying thief, sees to His mother’s future security and commits Himself to the heavenly Father who seems so distant. He’s doing His job, staying on course, playing hurt.

God’s people would do well to pray that the Father might toughen our spirits. Jesus warns His followers that they, and we, can expect opposition as standard-issue life experience. And not all of it will come from the world—some originates with our closest friends. It is, after all, a disciple who betrays Jesus.

We might pray this way:
O Lord, give me a sensitive heart for You and the hurting people around me. But give me also a tough hide—to take whatever pain and opposition come my way and keep on course. May I stay my eyes on You. Deliver me from having to stand before You at judgment and blame my failures on the fact that someone was mean to me. Father, help me to grow up. Amen.

Rev. Paul Zabel is president of Lutheran Church–Canada’s East District.

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