He predestined us for adoption to himself as sons through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of his will. - Ephesians 1:5

The whole universe is now an orphanage. But then there's Jesus. When we were still orphans, Christ became a substitute orphan for us. Though he was a son, he took on the humiliation of a slave and the horror of death. - Russell Moore

I loved watching my son play basketball last fall. At seven years old he’s finally mustered up the strength to shoot the ball at (yes, at, not in) the basket from more than a few feet away. He is still at the stage where every basket made requires fist pumping celebrations with his teammates down the court. Because of the stage of life that I’m in, most of my friends have kids who play sports too. What do parents of kids involved in sports talk about? You guessed it: their kids. 

Can I let you in on a little secret that most parents will never admit? I can’t stand listening to everyone else talk about how amazing their kid is at sports. It’s not that I think my kid is better and I’m just waiting for an opportunity to show them the shaky iPhone “highlight” footage I took. It’s really about this simple truth: If it’s not my kid, I don’t really care.

I don’t care that little Johnny made a layup. My lack of care is not that he double dribbled five times to get to the hoop, missed two wide open teammates, and then took eight steps before making his first shot in 18 tries.

It’s that he is not my kid.

I didn’t watch him take his first steps or wake up in the middle of the night and hold him until he fell back asleep. I have no attachment to him because he’s not mine.

Now, that may sound harsh, and yes, I am being overly dramatic to make a point here because there’s a spiritual lesson in this for athletes to consider. 

If you are like most Christian athletes, you probably want to glorify God through your sport. Even if you don’t fully understand what that means, there is something inside of you longing to make sport count for something beyond yourself. But here’s an important and hard truth to keep in mind: not every athlete has the ability to glorify God. 

The Bible is clear that we are not born into the family of God. It’s why Ephesians 1:5 uses the word adoption. In fact, if we have not been reconciled to God through faith in Jesus, we are not only considered spiritual orphans, we are also God’s enemies (Romans 5:10, James 4:4). An “orphaned enemy” may seem like a failed Netflix show, but it’s actually our tragic reality apart from the saving work of Jesus. It’s not that God doesn’t care, He does. Unlike me—and other parents of kids involved in sports, God cares about how His image bearers think and play the various games we’re involved in. But our unforgiven sin prevents us from being relationally connected to Him. Our sin means we start our life’s as orphaned enemies. 

And enemies of God lack the ability within themselves to bring glory to God. 

Athlete, are you a child of God or His enemy? There is no in between. If you’re unsure about what it means to be reconciled to God, check out the video below for further clarification on what it means to believe the Gospel.

I remember working in my garage when my wife got a call. I could tell from her face that this was not a routine call from our social worker asking for another round of paperwork. This was the call. We had been chosen by a birth mom in Louisiana. The second child in our family would be adopted. We got in our car the next day and drove over a thousand miles to Baton Rouge, LA. We waited over two weeks for the child to be born. We trusted God to raise $25,000 to pay for the adoption. While we waited, our son got hand, foot, and mouth disease. I ended up with strep throat.  

There is nothing romantic about adoption. Before our drive to Louisiana to adopt Hadassah, our social worker reminded us that when you go to adopt, you expect a wedding but experience a funeral. The joy and excitement of adopting a child into your family comes at the cost of the birth mom realizing she is unable or unwilling to raise on her own. There is deep sadness that comes with this perspective. Adoption is hard. It’s expensive. It’s exhausting. It’s emotional. It takes sacrifice. But in the end, it’s worth it. Nothing can change the fact that Hadassah Grace Smith is my daughter. The paperwork is signed. It’s official. 

If you have trusted in the finished work of Jesus instead of your own “goodness” as the foundation for your right standing with God, I have good news for you: you are His child. Your name is written in the Book of Life. It’s official. You have been adopted. Your identity as an adopted son or daughter holds more weight than your identity as an athlete because the former cannot be taken from you. 

It holds more weight because adoption doesn’t just mean that God loves you and likes you, it means he has gone to great lengths to make you His.

It means that while the approval of fans, coaches, friends, and sometimes earthly parents is dependent on your performance for them, God’s approval for you as an adopted son or daughter is dependent on His performance for you. Can you see why identifying as adopted over athlete brings freedom? 

It’s ok if you feel like you don’t deserve that kind of love. 

You don’t. 

Neither do I. 

It’s why Ephesians later refers to our adoption status as grace—a free, undeserved gift. 

As an athlete, nothing is given, everything is earned. As an adopted child of God, our sonship or daughtership is earned by and through Jesus—and freely given to us. 

What does this primary identity (adopted child of God) mean for your secondary identity (athlete)?

It means you have the ability to glorify God as a son or daughter who is fully loved, fully known, and fully accepted—all because of God’s performance (Jesus) for you.