To listen to today’s reflection as a podcast, click here
Mike Ditka was one tough guy.
When his family announced his death last Friday at the age of 86, tributes poured in from friends, fans, former players, and sportswriters.
Those eulogies described his roots in the Steel Country of western Pennsylvania – from which he derived his nickname “Iron Mike” – his ascent to National Football League stardom, and his seeming embodiment of the very soul of Chicago, the “City of Big Shoulders.”
After being drafted by the Chicago Bears in 1961, Ditka helped revolutionize professional football. Instead of merely throwing some mean blocks – the classic job assignment for tight ends – Ditka became a pass-catching, touchdown-scoring machine.
After finishing his career as a Dallas Cowboy, he was welcomed back to Chicago as head coach. With his swept-back hair and aviator sunglasses, Ditka became the iconic representative of the 1985 Super Bowl champions – a team that many believe is the greatest ever to take the field.
His ranting, raving, clipboard-throwing, heckler-silencing, gum-chewing style of generalship (he typically chomped an entire pack of gum simultaneously) was a perfect fit for the city. Ditka enthusiastically embraced the Saturday Night Live skits lampooning his stewardship of “Da Bears.”
A mere 11 days after suffering a heart attack, he was back in the locker room. Medically recommended? Of course not. Symbolic of his invincibility? Of course.
No one was surprised when, in 1988, he was the very first tight end inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame.
People were surprised, however, when Mike Ditka got religion.
During a stint as an assistant coach under the graciously spiritual Tom Landry of the Cowboys, Ditka – a famous late-night carouser – decided to give Jesus a try. As journalist Rich Cohen recalls, “He was a believer, yet there was always something odd about his speeches and homilies… When he went for the spiritual, he came off like a big man in a tiny coat.”
Before a game, Ditka would summon his Bears players and take a knee. Here’s one of his actual prayers:
“Heavenly Father, we’re grateful for the opportunity and we thank you for the talents you have given us – the chance to prove that we are the very best. Father, we ask you to give us the courage and the commitment to use these talents to the best of our ability so that we may give the glory back to you. Father, we ask that you may protect all the players in the game so that they may play the game free from injury.
“We pray, as always, in the name of Jesus Christ your Son, our Lord, Amen. Now let’s go kick ass.”
If you check out Ditka’s Hall of Fame webpage, you’ll find a gallery of pictures, his stats as a player and coach, and a link to his enshrinement speech at Canton. What you won’t find are any official Mike Ditka rump-kicking prayers. Nor is there a link to Amazon.com where you can order Iron Mike’s Ironclad Rules for Chatting Up God.
There is, of course, no such book.
But that’s not because tough guys can’t pray.
The late Franciscan monk and longtime recovering alcoholic Brennan Manning provided some wonderful advice: “Pray as you can, not as you can’t.”
In other words, just talk to God. You don’t have to pray like Mother Teresa or T.D. Jakes or Rick Warren or Andy Stanley or Mike Ditka. Just pray like you.
Our struggle, of course, is that prayer isn’t always the first thing to which we turn in the midst of a frantic day.
In 1977 the Catholic scholar Hans Kung wrote an exquisitely detailed book called On Being a Christian. It is 702 pages long. The index references almost every conceivable subject in the average spiritual life.
Except prayer.
When some of his colleagues gently pointed out to Kung that he had written an entire book on having a relationship with God but had neglected to mention prayer, he was mortified. “I was up against my publisher’s deadline. I was in a hurry. I forgot.”
Which rings true for all too many of us.
We want to pray. But life is very busy. We’re in a hurry. And we’re exhausted. When we finally find time, we may fall asleep. And we wake up feeling like the disciples in the Garden of Gethsemane, who couldn’t stay awake for one hour in support of Jesus the night before his death.
It seems certain that if there’s a Hall of Fame for drawing close to God during all life’s moments, none of us is going to be inducted into it.
What can we do? Should we attend a weekend prayer retreat? Make stronger promises, and really mean them this time? Buy a book that will help us get started?
While those steps may have value, the only thing that really matters at this moment is turning to God – wherever you are, just as you are.
You don’t have to be a tough guy. Pray as you can, not as you can’t.
The one thing we know for sure is that your Father in heaven will be hanging onto every word.