Raising Champions

Here is the introduction and chapter three of my forthcoming book: Raising Champions: Helping Your Children Grow Through Sports.

Raising champions excerpt from Nathan Schock

Gardening the Soul: Final Thoughts on Watering

If I don't weed today, I can weed next week. If I don't prune my fruit trees in winter, I can prune them in the spring. If I don't add enough compost to my asparagus roots this year, I can do it next year. But if I don't water today, I may destroy my garden.

Watering is the most time-sensitive task in the garden—and in life. Isaiah warned: Therefore, as tongues of fire lick up straw and as dry grass sinks down in the flames, so their roots will decay, for they have rejected the Law of the Lord Almighty. (5:24). What causes people to torch their lives? When they reject or ignore the Scriptures.

In order to restore the native prairie grasses on our land, we had to burn away the years of an accumulated, eight-inch thatch. This was a dangerous task. I never burned in strong winds. I carefully laid out hoses so that I could control the burn (without melting my hoses!) I began with small burns around the perimeter. I burned against the wind. I maintained constant vigilance. I did all of this because I have witnessed the terrifying dash of fire through dry prairie grass. The grasses look like they have been hit by an incendiary bomb, shooting flames and smoke high into the sky. That's the image God wants me to hang onto—if I don't water my life regularly with the Law of the Lord, the roots of my life will erupt in flames.

David understood his need to drink:

earnestly I seek you;

my soul thirsts for you;
my body longs for you;
in a dry and weary land
where there is no water. (Ps.63)

I find David's intense words disturbing—and challenging. "Lord, remind me that only you can quench the longings in my soul. Don't let me become a regular drinker at any other wells. I want you and your Truth to be the passion of my life."

Gardening the Soul: Drinking and Dispersing

Sara Stein was astounded when she learned how water gets from the roots to the top of a forty-foot tree.

Water rises up a tree because water molecules evaporate at the surface of its leaves. As each molecule exits through a pore, it tugs the one behind, which pulls the next, and so on along a conga line of water molecules clinging to one another in single file from the end of the deepest root to the tip of the topmost leaf.

This life-sustaining process is threatened during a drought. If water becomes scarce, leaves close down their pores to minimize evaporation. If water remains sparse, the leaves curl to protect their surface from the drying winds. And if the drought persists, a plant may drop its leaves to conserve water for its trunk and roots.  

Like the plants, my spiritual life must balance its intake and output of water. I maintain this equilibrium most of the year with my leaf pores fully open. While transmitting water to others, I am refreshed by daily time with God.

But periodically the drought creeps in so I curl my leaves to boost my reserves. I reduce my teaching load. I cut back on meetings and appointments. I schedule  vacations. Our vacations emphasize physical exercise—hiking, swimming, biking; and spiritual exercise—reading, reflecting, worshiping. We want our vacations to replenish, not deplete, our reservoirs.

And finally in this battle against personal drought, I schedule a yearly retreat in which I drop all of my leaves and soak up as much water as I can. I take none of my writing or teaching projects, or my family—I don't want to focus on carrying water to others. I take my Bible, devotional books, and a journal. If I don't regularly water my life, I will become as barren as a desert.

When writer Kathleen Norris moved to the western South Dakota prairie she was surprised by what she discovered: "I've never thought of myself as an ascetic… But in acclimating myself to the bareness of the Plains after the cornucopia of New York City I found to my surprise that not only did I not lament the loss of urban stimulation, but I began to seek out even more deprivation than my isolated prairie town of 1,600 could provide."

As I have entered my seventh decade of life, I also have increased longings for quiet. At times these desires are healthy, finding delight in reading and writing and worshiping. At other times, I feel my age and want to wallow in mindless activities: televised sports, fluffy novels, internet socializing. But too much watering for any reason is dangerous. God designed us to disperse water to others.

During the 1950's our politicians authorized the building of several dams on the Missouri River as it flows through our state. The banks of the "Mighty Mo" were lined with towering, centuries-old cottonwoods that were partially submerged as the dams filled up. It wasn't long before they all died because a million molecules of flooded waters could replace every molecule of evaporated water. Today the erect stumps of those drowned trees bear testimony to the problem of too much water.

Our challenge is to blend drinking and dispersing, service and solitude—too little or too much water will destroy our fruitfulness. This mix will vary according to individual gifting and life's circumstances. (When we had young children in our home, the only dependable solitude took place from 2 A.M. to 3 A.M.!) But it is a balance we must work out with God's direction.

Gardening the Soul: God's Higher Ways

Isaiah has directed the thirsty to "come”, “listen", and now, to "forsake.”

Let the wicked forsake his way
   and the evil man his thoughts. . . .
For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
   neither are your ways my ways," declares the Lord.
As the heavens are higher than the earth,  
   so are my ways higher than your ways
   and my thoughts than your thoughts." Is.55:9,10

Pruning our corrupt thoughts and ways as we embrace God's infinitely higher thoughts and ways is the final step—and the step that shows that we are drinking from God’s word.

There is a close connection between hearing and doing in the Bible—the New Testament word for "hear" is often translated "obey.” But many of us are content to adopt God’s thoughts with incorporating them into our ways. When workers at a U.S. corporation were surveyed, they reported that their lives were "too crowded, their time with their children too limited." Furthermore they wanted "extra time at home."  Attempting to help employees balance work and home, this family-friendly company offered part-time, "flexplace" (allowing workers to work at home), and "flextime" (allowing workers to start their day early or late) work. And new mothers were allowed to work part-time but retain full-time benefits. What was the result? Flextime was the only policy that workers used significantly. It's one thing to say you want more family time; it is quite another to act on that idea.

What thoughts is God asking you to translate into “ways”?

Ø  Has God revealed a selfish attitude toward your leisure? Then begin practicing his higher ways by inviting a lonely neighbor for dinner or by mentoring a fatherless child.

Ø  Has God reminded you that a friend is in pain? Then call her today to offer some comfort.

Ø  Has God reminded you that your ways have not included any regular fellowship with him? Then change the pattern of your days to include him.

Ø  Has God reminded you that you and your wife need regular time without the kids? Then hire a weekly babysitter for you and your wife’s date night.

Your auditory canals are clogged if God’s thoughts are not also transforming your ways.

Gardening the Soul: Habitual Drinkers

As young Christians, Cathy and I were challenged to commit a realistic amount of time to drink daily from God's word—we settled on five minutes. As we were developing our habit, there were many nights we fell into bed exhausted, turned out the lights, and one of us would ask: "Have you had your five minutes today?" If one or both of us had not, the lights would come back on, and we would spend some time communing with God. I am thankful our pledge was small. If our promise had been 25-30 minutes of time with God, the bedtime question—“Have you had your five minutes?"--would  have never been asked, and the budding habit would have dropped to the ground without bearing fruit.

I am not suggesting that five minutes of Bible reading will adequately water a life anymore than morning dew will sustain a garden. When Isaiah proclaims that God's feast can be enjoyed by those who have no money, he wasn't implying that it has no cost. He asks: Why spend your labor on what is not bread? Our labor is the admission fee to this feast. Every summer I spend countless hours dragging hoses all over my yard watering bushes, trees, and gardens. Could the watering of my life require any less effort? The five minutes was a daily minimum designed to establish a habit. I won't regularly hear God's voice unless I discipline myself to diligently study his word--meditatively, repeatedly, prayerfully. As I study a section of the Bible, I read it several days in a row. I listen to the same section on my CD player while driving in the car. I listen to it on my Bible Ap while I walk. The simple vow that Cathy and I made forty years ago has grown into a steady, all life rain for our souls.

Not long ago I received the student evaluations for my Introduction to the Bible class. One question asked: "What did you appreciate most about the course?" Several students reported that the highlight was the assigned reading in the Bible. At first I was disappointed -- "What about my great lectures? What about my mature, Christian model? What about my scholarship?" But as I thought further, I was elated. My highest hope for students is to connect them to God through his word. It is God's word that causes lives to bud and flourish. It is God's word that is an imperishable seed, perennially sprouting new growth. It is God's word that is more precious than gold or silver. It is God's word that carries divine power to demolish strongholds. It is God's word that will cause us to be thoroughly equipped for every good work. It is God's word that can slice through the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.” And I want my students to be most impressed with my lectures?! "No! No! No!" A thousand times "No!"

Gardening the Soul: Watering With God's Word

Isaiah's repeated calls to come  and to listen to God imply a recurrent showering of our lives with God's truth. This past year my state has endured an extended drought that has left the ground rock-hard.  When a thunderstorm recently dumped a quick, heavy rain, that hardness prevented much of the water from being absorbed. The plants would have benefited more from a slow, all-day soaker. Similarly, it is the slow, steady soaking of God's word that most effectively waters my life. If I go for long periods of time without drinking from God's word, I become increasingly hardened to his voice. Thus Isaiah warned: Seek the Lord while he may be found; call on him while he is near. (v.6)

A friend of author Philip Yancey wanted to know if God would forgive him if he dissolved his fifteen-year marriage that had produced three children and no crushing problems. He wanted to ditch his wife and pursue his lover. Yancey didn't answer the question immediately, afraid that a "Yes" answer would only strengthen his friend's resolve to end his marriage. As Yancey thought and prayed, he finally answered:

Can God forgive you? Of course. You know the Bible. . . . [But] what we have to go through to commit sin distances us from God—we change in the very act of rebellion—and there is no guarantee we will ever come back. You ask me about forgiveness now, but will you even want it later, especially if it involves repentance?

Sin packs the ground of our hearts, forming a hard pan between God and us. The longer our rebellion, the thicker that barrier becomes. Yancey's friend steeled his heart toward God and abandoned his family. As yet, there has been no evidence of any softening toward God. Only land that drinks in the rain often falling on it . . . receives the blessing of God. (Heb.6:7) It is the habit of drinking we must establish.

Gardening the Soul: Listening to God

Isaiah's invitation to come to God's feast has a catch--we  must come with open ears:  Listen, listen to me, . . . Give ear . . . hear me . . . God sounds like a frustrated parent.

"Listen up!"
"You're not listening to me."
"Did you hear what I said?"
"Look at me while I am talking to you."
"We better go to the doctor and have your hearing checked!"

I tell my child, "You're not listening to me." He complains that he did, perfectly repeating my words. But I'm not satisfied because I know he hasn't really grasped the meaning of my words. This was the problem in Isaiah's day and why he literally chided them: in your hearing, hear! As God's child I can read my Bible daily. I can gain mountains of Biblical knowledge. I can memorize long sections of God's word. But I may still be deaf to God's true message.

Katie Cocker, in the Lee Smith novel, The Devil's Dream, was a country singer who married her capable but crooked manager. Wayne was a violent drunkard whose all-consuming passion was to turn Katie into a star by any means. Soon after Wayne was arrested for his money-raising schemes, Katie went to the hospital to recover from nervous exhaustion. As she laid in bed, she could see more clearly what sort of man she had married:

I had to admit, in my heart, that I had known, someplace deep down where I was not admitting it, that he was up to no good. I knew he was breaking the law. I reckon I had come to think Wayne was above the law, or beyond it some way. But I also knew better. You always know everything, don't you? You won't let yourself know you know it, a lot of times you can't let yourself know it, because you can't stand to know what you know.

The fame and the fortune caused Katie to shut her ears to the rumblings of her husband's corrupt life. She muffled her conscience so that it wouldn’t threaten her "good" life. Don’t we treat God this way? We banish any serious thought about the real-life meaning and application of his Truth because we want to cling to our fumbling, though familiar, life. Ignorance is bliss . . . for a while.