The Impromptu Football Clinic

I’ve done my fair share of knocking on stranger’s doors in my ministry career. Confrontational evangelism was never my favorite thing to do. I always felt like I was intruding on people’s personal lives when I arrived at their door unannounced between 7 and 8:30 PM on a weeknight. That’s because I was.

I can recall a few victories over the years and I know many churches rely on door-to-door visitation but is it really effective to invade the lives of strangers to share the most important message in the world? Yes, there are periodic victories but how many defeats have there been due to our bad timing? How many forced gospel presentations have hurt the cause of Christ? Wouldn’t non-followers fare better if we took the time to establish a relationship with them instead of bombarding them with the greatest news known to man?

I was reminded of this one day on the beach. My wife and I were in the middle of a wonderful vacation on the Carolina shore enjoying our paperback pursuits when I looked up and saw a father and two boys throwing a football. Of course, this is a common scene at the ocean so there was nothing to note other than the wonderful picture of a father sharing a bond with what appeared to be his two sons. Being an athletic father myself, I stopped and watched them throw the ball around a little. Each boy appeared to be no older than ten-years old. The father was demonstrating how to properly catch the football as they were enjoying the sun and salt air.

Suddenly, their game of catch became an impromptu NFL training camp. A bicycle-riding gentleman in his 60’s approached the trio and obviously felt compelled to stop and share his knowledge of football with the group. Before I knew it, the father and sons were running drills and pass plays on the beach at the command of the Coach who was yelling, clapping and pumping his fist with every perfect play.

“How odd?” I thought. Was this man a NFL scout? A NCAA football coach? A retired high school coach still carrying a passion to share his knowledge? Maybe he was none of these things. Having coached a little football in my past, I knew that the fundamentals that the Coach was showing the young men were sound. How to properly hold the ball. How to catch it. How to do a three-step drop. There was nothing wrong being taught at this spontaneous football clinic. The father played along with the Coach. One boy apparently didn’t want to invest much time into it. He went in for a swim just a few minutes after the session began. The other boy patiently listened and did what the Coach insisted.

Is this what the trio wanted when they started their game of pass? Weren’t they just passing the time away on a lazy day at the beach? Did these boys really have a passion for football? Did they even play organized football? I know they didn’t anticipate Vince Lombardi riding up on a bicycle on the beach and giving them a personal twenty-minute clinic on the fundamentals of throwing and catching a football.

The Coach had the knowledge and obviously had the passion to share his wisdom. Everything that he showed them included proper fundamental football techniques. He apparently knew what he was talking about.

But I had to ask myself, “How was it received? Did the father and sons appreciate the mini-camp experience or did they tolerate it? Don’t they want him to go away?” Chris, the future Hall of Famer who stuck it out the entire time and the only name I picked up throughout the entire event, was tired. He bent over at one point trying to catch his breath. The Coach wore him out in a matter of minutes. When pleasantries were exchanged at the end of the practice and the Coach finally got on his bike to leave, Chris fell into his dad’s arms as they made their way off of the beach to their condo. To hit the showers, I presume.

Is this the effect confrontational evangelists have on people? Do Christians too often bombard people with all of their knowledge of the gospel and life without first building a relationship? Does the confrontational evangelist’s audience just tolerate the twenty-minute impartation of wisdom on life wishing he would go away? Does the reality of the gospel of Christ really sink in over a matter of a few minutes of unannounced coaching?

I confess that I found myself thinking that I was like the Coach many years ago. Thank God I’m in a ministry today where knocking on cold, even warm, doors is discouraged. We let people investigate Christianity and get to know us first before we put on our gospel clinics. I wonder if Chris will ever apply what he learned that day to his football career. I wonder if he played catch with his dad the next day looking over his shoulder for the Coach and on guard ready to run to the ocean if he saw him coming again.