A Long Obedience in the Same Direction
What Pastor Eugene Peterson taught me about coaching football
“An inner resolve began forming within me: I am not going to wait to be asked anymore. In the secularizing times in which I am living…if I am going to stay true to my vocation…I can’t let the “market” determine what I do.”
- Eugene Peterson, The Pastor
I’ve always had unlikely mentors. If ever there were a strange mash-up of two seemingly unrelated worlds, it would be that of Presbyterian minister Eugene Peterson and an American brand of football often associated with brutalism and machismo. What does the slim, peaceable Peterson have to say to a broader audience of football coaches trying to win games at all costs? And the real question: how did I get here?
To give you context, I was previously a pastor. For a decade, I labored in ministry—first as a chaplain for athletes, then as a church planter in an urban context, and finally as a teaching pastor. But, rather mysteriously and unexpectedly, my career pivoted to coaching. (I wrote a piece on how my journey began here.)
While I played college football and was the son of a football coach, I never imagined returning to my roots. Nonetheless, though the beginning was marked by doubt, my new vocation gradually took shape. Surely, much from my pastoral past doesn’t translate. Even so, there are a few mentors I have held onto—including Eugene Peterson.
I should address the elephant in the room: Did Eugene detest the game? There’s no evidence of that—but even if he did, I believe I could have shown him otherwise. At practice, he would have seen how the ecosystem of a team mirrors the flock he once shepherded. While there's plenty of bad in the game (politics, celebrity, pride), he would have also seen the good: 100+ young people ready to have their imaginations shaped by a vision beyond themselves.
With this in mind, I want to explore how Pastor Eugene has shaped my vision as a coach. Surely, there are other mentors I could write about—Mister Rogers and Madeleine L’Engle, to name a few. (Again, unlikely mentors.) But no one has influenced my coaching vocation more than the man who taught me to live patiently with people and personally, without abstraction.
CONTEMPLATION
“If we do not develop a contemplative life adequate to our vocation, the very work we do and our very best intentions, insidiously pride-filled as they inevitably become destroy us and all with whom and for whom we work.”
- Eugene Peterson, Under the Unpredictable Plant
Midway through my pastoral career, I faced a crisis. To be clear, it wasn’t all that complicated: I got burned out. Repeatedly, over the years, I was operating beyond my capacity while simultaneously spiritualizing my sacrifice. Yet in the midst of this, when I began counseling and took a much-needed sabbatical, I came across the work of Eugene Peterson.
It’s a spiritual experience that’s hard to describe, but I read his story about telling his board how he desired to be an unbusy pastor with awe. Not only did he want to do less, but he longed for meaningful time to do the deep work of study and prayer. Overall, he came to describe his approach as that of a contemplative pastor.
While I didn’t think this applied to coaching, almost immediately, I became aware that coaches face a similar plight. For many, the nature of the job has morphed into talent acquisition meets financial procurement, like a sports agent meets a hedge fund manager. You can spend so many hours on something far from the intended goal: the formation of young people for the future.
I refuse to give in to the tides of the time. My overarching vision is to be a contemplative coach. The foundation of this approach is built on the conviction that the most important work I do as a coach is to think deeply about why we do what we do and approach my work thoughtfully—prayerfully.
While I know this is a lofty ideal, we need a few undeterred in an effort to fight the consumerism eroding the game. Nothing is more important than how we steward the lives of those we lead for the sake of their long-term success. In this, I believe Eugene would find resonance.
CRAFTSMENSHIP
“In the process, we learned the difference between a profession or craft, and a job. A job is what we do to complete an assignment…But professions and crafts are different. In these we have an obligation beyond pleasing somebody: we are pursuing or shaping the very nature of reality, convinced that when we carry out our commitments we actually benefit people at a far deeper level than if we simply did what they asked of us.”
- Eugene Peterson, Working the Angles
Whether it was Eugene’s twenty-nine years leading Christ Our King Presbyterian Church or his decade of working on the Message translation, he approached his work at a level deeper than simply checking off boxes to get through the day. Like an expert craftsman caring about the little nooks and crannies in an artisan cabinet, Peterson viewed his job as a craft.
As I’ve experienced in both pastoring and coaching, many do not approach their profession this way. More insidious still is how craftsmanship can be associated with growth. Yet, as I’ve seen when speaking to megachurch pastors about their congregation, only to be met with blank stares, there is little connection between the size of a flock and how much a leader cares. While some are deeply intentional, many rely more on the size of their platform than on the depth of their preparation.
In this way, coaching is again analogous to pastoring. While winning is dependent on many factors, there is always a remnant who let their work be the independent variable. They show up for work and pursue, to the best of their abilities, a concern that operates at a deeper level. They care about the smallest things: the first step a player takes, the extra film that others skip over, the little details demonstrating love.
As Eugene articulated, the very nature of reality can shift through people who see their role as a matter of craftsmanship. My words fall short in expressing this truth, but my life is indebted to coaches who care. Whether it was the long hours spent studying to help me succeed on the field or the encouraging comments off the field when I needed them most: craftsmanship matters. I know this is a vision Eugene would have endorsed.
COMMUNITY
“The badlands shaped, perhaps as much as any other voice or experience, Eugene’s convictions…He possessed a dogged commitment to his immediate place, to his holy charge to…this…community of ordinary people.”
- Winn Collier, A Burning in My Bones
This is probably the most countercultural value I’ve embraced. As Eugene writes in The Pastor, “I would stay with these people; there are no quick or easy ways to do this…I would embrace the conditions of this place—economics, weather, culture, schools, whatever—so that there would be nothing abstract or piously idealized about where I was going…I would know them, know their names, know their homes, know their families, know their work.”
In an age unhinged from local places and spaces, I am committed to a people in a specific place. I understand that this can run counter to the reality of the coaching profession. It’s been said you are either moving up or getting fired, which is a sad but true reality. Nonetheless, I write with the hope that a few others can embrace the call to root their lives.
As someone who knows the pain of planting and closing a church, I know this vision doesn’t always work out. The same can be said for coaching: sometimes the wins don’t come. If this is your story, I am sorry. Victories are always much more complicated to find than they are made out to be in clinics. Yet my challenge, after taking time to heal, is to recommit to finding a place to root your life.
Through this commitment comes the building of a diverse family that transcends when players play for us, modeling something for athletes as future contributors to their own communities. As the son of a coach, I’ve seen firsthand how this commitment shapes players' lives. Peterson knew this well.
CONTENTMENT
“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”
- Matthew 11:28-30 (MSG)
While this final lesson from Pastor Peterson will make most coaches squirm, it’s the most important lesson of all: learn the unforced rhythms of grace. The commitments to your craft are never-ending—there are not enough victories to satisfy the unquenchable thirst for more. Even in the midst of the grind, you can find an invitation to a different way of being in the world.
Personally, this is the hardest lesson of all. It took me years to finally embrace that I needed real rest. Not merely to catch up on the many tasks always bombarding me, believing the lie that I could one day catch the elusive carrot at the end of the stick, but to put away my never-ending tasks and projects and allow my soul to keep company with my Creator.
It took me a long time to come to this point. (So much so, I wrote an entire book about it.) Yet when I did, finally putting down my defenses, I found out that nothing I had worried about came to fruition. The world didn’t end—I was actually not as important as I thought I was. All along, it was I who was driving myself to exhaustion, which was the hardest lesson to learn of all.
To stay in the saddle over the long haul, to capture the long obedience in the same direction that Peterson often spoke of, requires finding a contentment that can keep you here a decade from now. It doesn’t mean it won’t be hard or that you can’t grind. But it does mean that you have to have moments where you allow yourself to pause—to just be. On this last point, I know Eugene wholeheartedly agreed.
I know this was kind of a weird list. Writing about anything related to sports is a new development for me, but it’s one I’m hoping to pursue more as a way to be a faithful voice for my vocation. If you know anyone who might benefit from this, please pass it forward. Thank you for going on this journey with me!
Good word Coach! I hope you're well brother! Thanks for sharing.