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There were a few twists and turns on Kurt Warner’s pathway to becoming an NFL quarterback.
After graduating from high school in 1989, he wasn’t exactly inundated with college scholarship offers. Warner enrolled at the University of Northern Iowa, not widely regarded as a football powerhouse, where he languished during his first few years as the third string signal caller.
When given the chance to compete for UNI as a senior, he excelled, becoming the Gateway Conference’s Offensive Player of the Year.
Professional scouts seemed not to notice. No NFL team called his name during the 1994 draft.
The Green Bay Packers did give Warner a shot that summer, inviting him to camp. Before the regular season they let him go, deciding to stick with some guy named Brett Favre. Desperate to earn some cash, Warner stocked shelves at a Hy-Vee grocery store in Cedar Falls for $5.50 an hour. His NFL dream appeared to be toast.
Warner turned to the fledgling Arena Football League, signing with the Iowa Barnstormers. If that name doesn’t ring a bell, no worries. Very few people outside Iowa have ever heard of the Barnstormers. Once again, Kurt capitalized, leading his team to two straight appearances in the Arena Bowl (the Super Bowl of the AFL).
The Chicago Bears finally noticed the young man from Iowa. They scheduled a tryout.
Warner, however – living out the adage that if it wasn’t for bad luck, he’d have no luck at all – was bitten on his throwing elbow by an unidentified insect. The tryout never happened.
At the end of 1997, the QB finally inked a contract with the St. Louis Rams, who promptly sent him to play for the Amsterdam Admirals. Yes, that Amsterdam, the one across the Atlantic. All Kurt did was lead the European league in touchdowns and passing yardage.
The Rams welcomed Warner back to St. Louis. Sort of. In the spring of 1999, they left him unprotected in the NFL expansion draft. The Cleveland Browns had a chance to snag him, but declined.
It’s easy to see why the Bears and the Browns seem to have taken up permanent residence in the quarterback wilderness.
Warner was now the Rams’ backup QB. Somehow it seemed appropriate that he wore jersey No. 13. He was more than five years removed from college. The average NFL quarterback plays only 4.4 years, and Kurt had already spent what should have been his prime years in the shadows.
Then came the 1999 regular season.
When the Rams’ starter went down with a season-ending injury, Coach Dick Vermeil became emotional talking about the relative unknown suddenly thrust into the spotlight. “We will rally around Kurt Warner, and we will play good football.”
Did they ever. Warner threw three touchdown passes in each of his first three NFL games. No one had ever done that before. As the gunslinger of what became known as the Greatest Show on Turf, he piled up 4,353 yards and 41 touchdowns, leading the Rams to a Super Bowl victory over the Tennessee Titans. Warner earned both league MVP and Super Bowl MVP, the only first-time quarterback ever to do so.
He went on to play 12 seasons, starting two more Super Bowls, and entered the Pro Football Hall of Fame in 2017. It goes without saying that Kurt Warner’s experience is one of the ultimate Cinderella stories in sports history.
Which only goes to show how right it is for parents to say to their children, “You can be anything you want to be!”
Except that’s not right at all.
There are a multitude of reasons why we cannot or should not try to be anything we want to be – and it’s better to absorb that truth sooner than later.
American culture is currently fixated on the words “passion” and “dream,” as if the purpose of life can be summarized by the mantra, “Follow your deepest passions and fulfill your lifelong dream.”
But what if your lifelong dream is to compete at the highest level in the Olympics, even though you weren’t blessed with the optimal genetics for height, strength, or agility? Kurt Warner’s “against all odds” story is amazing. But make no mistake: He had always been an exceptional athlete.
And what if your heartfelt passion (whether you admit it or not) is to become filthy rich by any means, retire as soon as possible, and write off everyone in your family tree as hopeless losers? Is that a passion worth pursuing?
Surveys taken over the past decade reveal that seven out of ten 21-year-olds rank “make a lot of money” and “become famous” as their highest life goals. The vast majority of those respondents are destined to experience serious disappointment.
I cannot or should not try to become “anything I want to be,” since the pursuit of so many things I might want to be will end up crushing my soul.
But regardless of my chromosomes, my IQ, my family background, or any other cards that life has dealt me, it’s entirely possible for me to become something else: I can become God’s person. Right where I already am. Right where God has placed me in this chapter of my life.
Interestingly, one of the strongest advocates of that perspective is Kurt Warner.
It was in the midst of his many struggles that Warner crossed the line of faith. He later said, “Whether I’m a Super Bowl champion or a regular guy stocking groceries at the Hy-Vee, sharing my faith and glorifying Jesus is the central focus on my time on this earth.”
It’s tempting to think that life isn’t worth living unless we somehow achieve our deepest dream.
But God needs great moms. And high-integrity stockbrokers. And faithful engineers. And compassionate nurses. And spiritually vital plumbers, food bank volunteers, teachers, retirees, CEOs and store clerks – representing the kingdom in whatever labor they happen to be celebrating this Labor Day.
As Paul encourages us in I Corinthians 15:58, “[M]y dear, dear friends, stand your ground. And don’t hold back. Throw yourselves into the work of the Master, confident that nothing you do for him is a waste of time or effort.”
Becoming God’s person, wherever you are, can be your deepest dream.
You may not get to throw a pass in a Super Bowl.
But you can glorify Him on whatever field you’ve been called to take.