Rushing for Jesus

Reggie White used to thank God for helping him sack quarterbacks. But before his death, the football star confessed that sports trivialized faith and religion. Will his message be heard?

By Tom Krattenmaker

Read more: Politics, News, Christianity

Jan. 3, 2005 | When I interviewed pro football veteran Troy Vincent last spring for my research on religion in sports, I asked how he accounted for the rise of Christianity in the National Football League (a cause that the Pro Bowl cornerback Vincent has helped advance). Vincent was quick with his answer: Reggie White. A whole constellation of factors has gone into the growth of faith in the game over the past two decades, but Vincent was certainly right in the sense that White, "the Minister of Defense," brought new legitimacy to the now prevalent practice of Christian sports stars using their status as a soapbox from which they evangelize. Never before had a Christian player combined such on-field achievement -- White was selected to the Pro Bowl a record 13 times -- with such outspoken proclamations of faith and unabashed proselytizing.

That is why it is so interesting, and in my view important, to pay attention to the dramatically different stance on religion that White developed after his playing career, which came to public attention just before his death on Dec. 26. Since his retirement from the NFL in 2000, White had disavowed his role as the exemplar of athletic evangelizing and much of what passes for religious devotion in sports culture.

In an interview aired on the NFL Network four days before his death -- part of an hour-long program on religion in pro football -- White talked about his new direction. The man who once claimed that God told him to leave Philadelphia and sign with Green Bay, stated, "Sometimes when I look back on my life, there are a lot of things I said God said. I realize he didn't say nothing. It was what Reggie wanted to do. I do feel the Father ... gave me some signals ... but you won't hear me anymore saying God spoke to me about something -- unless I read something in scripture and I know."

In the interview, White also rejected a practice at the very heart of the athletic Christian movement, one he did much to popularize: the perceived imperative for the star athlete to use his stature to spread the Christian message. That was one of the founding goals of the Fellowship of Christian Athletes when it formed a half century ago, and it remains a major thrust of athletic Christianity today, acted out every time a player points to the heavens after a touchdown or home run, credits Jesus in an interview, or puts his fame to work in front of church congregations and youth gatherings. "I was an entertainer," White said. "People seemed to want to be entertained rather than taught."

I don't doubt the sincerity of players who express their faith. But fans should not overlook the reality that a Christian network of considerable breadth, depth and influence operates behind the scenes to convert players and to enlist them in an effort to sway others who play and follow sports. Through the work of a variety of evangelical ministries, all on the conservative side of the social and religious spectrum, nearly every one of the teams in the three major professional sports leagues -- football, basketball, baseball -- has an officially designated chaplain. By some estimates as many as 40 percent of the players in the NFL participate in team chapels and Bible studies.

White's point about entertaining elucidates one of the problems with Christianity in professional sports: a tendency of the movement to place promotion over the full and accurate representation of scripture and to use athletes as high-profile pitchmen, as if religious faith were just another product to sell. White actually had a credential; he was an ordained minister, although admittedly not one who was well versed in scripture. But most sports stars who stand before congregations or the media's cameras and microphones are even less qualified than White, and they often do a poor job of representing Christianity, whether by word or deed.

The most common and notorious misrepresentation is that religious players frequently credit the Almighty for their making the big play or winning the game, as if the Christian (and non-Christian) players on the opposing team did not enjoy equal standing before God, and as if the purpose of faith is to get ahead on the scoreboard. Equally troubling is the frequent dissonance between players' religious words and decidedly irreligious behavior. Barry Bonds is a serial sky-pointer and a man who credits God for his tremendous success on the field, yet to many in the public he is considered a steroid-using cheater. The football player recently fined $75,000 for the vicious hit on Green Bay Packers receiver Robert Ferguson is the same Donovin Darius who appears in the NFL Network program declaring his commitment to use his football playing to glorify God.

Next page: White felt "prostituted" by evangelicals who encouraged him to promote Christianity