By Marty Duren
Storied NFL quarterback Kurt Warner announced his retirement at a press conference Friday, January 29. With Bible in hand, Warner calmly and straightforwardly gave thanks to God, his family, his coaches and team owners before taking a few questions from assembled members of the press.
Professional observers at USA Today, CBS and Fox Sports all seem certain of Warner’s Hall of Fame credentials, perhaps even on the first ballot. Players and coaches alike immediately bring to the conversation the fact that he is a “good guy” or a “good man.” Most outsiders would have the same viewpoint.
Early in his announcement, Warner, as is his custom, gave thanks to “my Lord Jesus Christ.” He uttered a similar sentiment following the St. Louis Rams’ Super Bowl win after the 1999 regular season, when he also won the first of his two MVP awards. In the mouth of others, such customary invoking of God can seem overbearing or outright hypocritical — but coming from Warner it was rarely, if ever, questioned.
Perhaps it was the implausible beginning to his career as the grocery-store clerk who could hang with the Arena Football League but could not hang with the Green Bay Packers.
Perhaps it was the just-as-implausible resurrection from a flat-lining career just three years ago — after leaving the Rams, Giants and playing backup for the Cardinals — to lead those Cardinals to the Super Bowl and a near-win over the Steelers. People pulled for Kurt Warner who did not even care about football or who pulled for other teams. People who hate Brett Favre love Kurt Warner.
Perhaps the reason Warner never caught flack for “wearing his religion on his sleeve” is because everyone who watched him knew what was on his sleeve was merely the outflow of what was in his shirt. Pete Prisco at CBS Sports tells of a meeting he had scheduled with Warner in Arizona, but was delayed because of a late flight. Upon landing, Prisco writes, “I had two messages on my phone from Warner checking on me to see what was up. Most players simply blow it off and move on. Warner actually cared.” Teammate Darnell Dockett summed it up thusly, “I love Kurt Warner as a person.” Pretty sentimental stuff from a nearly 300-pound defensive tackle — unless there is a reason.
For 12 years, Warner has been the public embodiment of the apostle Peter’s admonition to “set apart Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect” (I Peter 3:15). It is this ability to do it with gentleness and respect, I think, that has earned the ear of even some who would disagree with him.
Doubtless Warner had deeper or more pointed conversations about Christ with teammates and coaches between games and practices, but it was his natural way of weaving Christ into the story of his life that was effective. With Warner, a listener never felt as if the subject of God was being tossed out desperately, like a “Hail Mary” pass; rather, it was if God had been on the field the whole time.
American Christians can learn a lot from the now-retired Arizona quarterback. When our “stands for Christ” are not born from — and complemented by — a genuine and obvious love for him, those stands are seen as arrogance at best and political posturing at worst. When we speak of God without an encompassing sense that he’s someone we really know, our mouthing is properly ignored and, sometimes, properly ridiculed. When Warner talked Friday of hearing God’s voice or following God’s will, there were no muffled snickers from the gathered crowd. It was not forced. It was natural; it was real.
Hard-core, fast-paced “microwave evangelism” may give us the satisfied feeling of having fulfilled the Great Commission, but often leaves an acrid odor in its aftermath. Perhaps when our relationship with Christ is more authentic, believers will gain the hearing for which we so strongly hunger. Then, rather than force-feeding the faith to an unprepared and unwilling public, we could focus on presenting a relationship with God so palatable that a hunger for God in those around us is the normative result.