Last week, United States diver David Boudia and his partner Steele Johnson won silver medals in the Men's synchronized 10 meter platform dive at Rio. Before Boudia and Johnson, America had never earned more than the bronze medal in this event, and considering that they were only beaten by a Chinese team that set a new Olympic point record in the event, what these two accomplished is quite remarkable indeed.
But Boudia and Johnson's post-competition interview was arguably more unique than their performance, as far as the sports world goes. Showing surprising candor and spiritual maturity, both Americans testified that they found their identities in Christ as opposed to their sport and the results of this competition, and that is what kept them at peace.
Boudia's person faith is well documented in his new autobiography, but his and Johnson's comments were still quite shocking. It is not uncommon for athletes to publicly give glory to God in victory and defeat, but rarely are athletes' comments as theologically sound and utterly counter-cultural as Boudia and Johnson's. In today's world, culture tells us we are what we do, and our success or failure becomes who we are.
Athletes wrestle with this reality and the hollowness of its fruition daily; just ask Michael Phelps about his struggles between London and Rio. This is exactly the pressure Boudia and Johnson mention in that interview: the enormous weight of the world's evaluation based on a few short days of their lives in a pool in South America.
And this cultural norm is not anything new; it is a poison that has infected athletics (and, I would argue, the world) since its infancy. The classic Best Picture-winning film "Chariots of Fire" captures it perfectly in the character of Harold Abrahams. An Olympic sprinter in the 1924 Games, Abrahams opens his heart before his race and says, "And now in one hour's time I will be out there again. I will raise my eyes and look down that corridor (his running lane); four feet wide, with ten lonely seconds to justify my whole existence. But will I?"
To many, this attitude is a comfortable place of normalcy. But to those of us who understand and live in the freedom of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, hearing such an attitude evokes heart-wrenching compassion for its possessor. It's a state of uncertainty and self-reliance that we were never meant to live in; and now we never have to because Jesus has done all necessary to justify us before God.
Boudia clearly understands this, as did Eric Liddell, the other Olympic champion and parallel character to Abrahams portrayed in "Chariots," who famously says, "when I run, I feel [God's] pleause." Boudia preached this Gospel truth to himself to free his mind from the natural pressure of the world around him. That freedom is what we were created to live in, and only in it can we truly thrive. Colossians 2:9 (NIV) says, "... [I]n Christ, you have been brought to fullness. He is the head over every power and authority."
Later on in Colossians, we are commanded to, "... let the peace that comes from Christ rule in our hearts," (3:15 NLT). But the reality is that whatever we find our significance in is our god. This is why so many people, not just athletes, are destroyed (sometimes literally) by failure. So how do we, like Boudia, find our peace in Christ?
The answer is by finding our entire identity, our salvation and our justification, in Him and His redeeming work on the cross. Only there, where the blood of the only perfect Person to ever live poured forth in our stead, can we be humbled into this peace and then exalted into true success for the sole glory of our King.
