This Season

The basketball season has begun. Every season has it's own personality, it's own existence, so to speak. This one feels different all together, as it feels very much like I'm on borrowed time.

When last season ended, I believed that I was done as a basketball coach. For reasons that I don't need to get specific about, I was ready to walk away from an activity that I loved. The cost had become too great, the reward too little. I wasn't ready to be done coaching, but I had made my peace with it. I ended the season, gave myself a month to think about it, then told my wife that unless something drastic changed, I was going to walk away.

Something drastic did change, so here I am, starting another season. I'm excited. I'm passionate. And after one week of practice, I'm having more fun that I've had in years. I also understand that my personal approach to this season must be fundamentally different than it ever has before.

For the 1st eight years of my coaching career, I put everything on hold until the season ended. Mostly, I gave myself an excuse to get myself out of physical, mental, and spiritual shape. I told myself that I would work out once the season ended and I had more time and energy. I would read books or catch up on homework once March came around. And I would swear to remember who God was and how I fit into an eternal worldview when I could just get basketball out of the way.

In the back of my mind, I can believe that part of the reason the mess at Nora Springs occurred which took me away from head coaching for a time was because I was holding so tightly to the job. I would say that I could lose all yet have Christ and all would be fine; however, I couldn't imagine my life without leading a basketball program every winter. My identity was wrapped up in being the head coach at Sutherland or at NS-RF. Without that, I felt like less. And I felt like if I lost that, I would have less in life. Unfortunately, I had a much tighter grip on this identity than I did on my own spiritual well-being.

Then I wasn't a head coach any more. That was a major blow to my identity for a while, but I adjusted. I was fine. The world didn't stop, nor did my life. I continued to coach; but as I indicated above, the cost of coaching became greater, the reward smaller. Last spring I thought I had finally learned my lesson - I learned to hold loosely to that part of my identity and realized that I could walk away.

Then the situation changed in a quite favorable way - a way that would allow me to use my skills and passions more effectively and work closely with people I enjoy a great deal. The reward was great again. So I'm back.

I feel like God is telling me, "Dykstra, you can do this. Go ahead if you want. You learned your lesson. But if you worship this again, it's your loss. It's your wasted winter. It's your loss of the exponential joy of focusing on Me for the cheap substitute of a much lesser joy. Go do this, but understand that your joy hangs in the balance."

Whether or not those are God's exact words, they are true. My joy does hang in the balance. I can have it all this winter - feeding my God-given passion for coaching basketball and experiencing exponential, eternally-driven joy in the process. But that can only occur if I see God while coaching, if I seek to bring Him glory and improve His reputation and build up the people I have influence over. Basically, I must stay in spiritual shape this winter in order to have it all. I can do this thing I am passionate about, but only if this passion springs from my passion for a God-centered life.

I want to do this job for many, many years to come. For that to be worth it (for my family, for myself, and for the players and coaches I'm around), this winter must be different.