Athlete Identity Crisis: 30 Days to Understanding Your Identity in Christનમૂનો

Adopted

If you are like most Christian athletes, you probably want to glorify God through your sport. Even if you don’t fully understand what that means, there is something inside of you longing to make sport count for something beyond yourself. But here’s an important and hard truth to keep in mind: not every athlete has the ability to glorify God.

The Bible is clear that we are not born into the family of God. It’s why Ephesians 1:5 uses the word adoption. In fact, if we have not been reconciled to God through faith in Jesus, we are not only considered spiritual orphans, we are also God’s enemies (Romans 5:10, James 4:4). An “orphaned enemy” may seem like a failed Netflix show, but it’s actually our tragic reality apart from the saving work of Jesus. It’s not that God doesn’t care; he does. Unlike me and other parents of kids involved in sports, God cares about how his image bearers think and play the various games we’re involved in. But our sin prevents us from being relationally connected to him. Our sin means we start our lives as orphaned enemies.

And enemies of God lack the ability within themselves to bring glory to God.

Athlete, are you a child of God or his enemy? There is no in between.

I remember working in my garage when my wife got a call. I could tell from her face that this was not a routine call from our social worker asking for another round of paperwork. This was the call. We had been chosen by a birth mom in Louisiana. The second child in our family would be adopted. We got in our car the next day and drove over a thousand miles to Baton Rouge, LA.

There is nothing romantic about adoption. Before our drive to Louisiana to adopt our daughter, our social worker reminded us that when you go to adopt, you expect a wedding but experience a funeral. The joy and excitement of adopting a child into your family comes at the cost of the birth mom realizing she is unable or unwilling to raise on her own. There is deep sadness that comes with this perspective. Adoption is hard. It’s expensive. It’s exhausting. It’s emotional. It takes sacrifice. But in the end, it’s worth it. Nothing can change the fact that this little girl is now our daughter. The paperwork is signed. It’s official.

If you have trusted in the finished work of Jesus instead of your own “goodness” as the foundation for your right standing with God, I have good news for you: you are His child. Your name is written in the Book of Life. It’s official. You have been adopted. Your identity as an adopted son or daughter holds more weight than your identity as an athlete because the former cannot be taken from you.

It holds more weight because adoption doesn’t just mean that God loves you and likes you. It means he has gone to great lengths to make you His.

It’s ok if you feel like you don’t deserve that kind of love.

You don’t.

Neither do I.

It’s why Ephesians later refers to our adoption status as grace—a free, undeserved gift.

As an athlete, nothing is given. Everything is earned. As an adopted child of God, our sonship or daughtership is earned by and through Jesus and freely given to us.

What does this primary identity (adopted child of God) mean for your secondary identity (athlete)?

It means you have the ability to glorify God!

Question to Consider: How could understanding your identity as an adopted child of God protect you from a performance-based model of life?