Kopp Disclosure
(John 3:19-21)
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"God is doing something good through everything that
happens in the lives of the faithful.
If it seems slow, don't panic. You will see! In
whatever meantime
this is for you,
trust Him. He has something better than you could ever
imagine. Trust Him!"
Habakkuk and Paul
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We were sledding
in the front yard.
He was a very
little boy having a great time with his dad.
Football wasn't
yet in his vocabulary.
Up and down.
Over and over and
over again.
Then he screamed
with the kinda uninhibited joy that Jesus relished so much in children, "I
don't ever want to stop doing this!"
I wish I could
reincarnate that moment right now; just as I asked God to take my life on
Saturday shortly after 1:10 p.m. in exchange for reversing His call and...
But
as I watched and heard my
son writhing in pain after the second play of Coe's first possession in
the first game of the year and last of his life, I knew...
He never wanted
to stop playing football.
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His first play
was as a third grader covering the opening kickoff.
I could see the
fright as well as determination in his eyes as he made the tackle.
Solo.
His last play was
as a senior captain of the Kohawks.
I could see the
determination and then dashed dream after his block sprung a teammate for a
healthy gain.
Solo.
Lying on the cold
rack in the emergency room, he was as determined as ever; declaring he would
suit up for the next game.
No next game for
him.
Solo.
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As I walked to my
son on the sideline, already lamenting his dashed dream and praying
fresh hope, I thanked God that he started and finished well.
Yeah, I prayed a
miracle.
Still do.
"Lord, you
know how much he loves You and never backs off from heralding You and urging
others to trust You and...and...and wouldn't this be a great opportunity
to...?"
As an athlete who
never accomplished anything compared to any of my sons, with a determination
for excellence dwarfed by this one, my lower lip quivered as, finally, he said
softly, "All I ever wanted to do from third grade was play football."
With dashed
dream, he turned to the prophet and apostle for fresh hope.
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Awaiting fresh
hope for him, his dashed dream flashes before me.
I see that first
tackle.
I see him
absorbing all of those Pitt games.
I see his face
beaming as the gold medal hung around his neck for that undefeated junior
tackle team.
He was a tough
offensive tackle and brutal middle linebacker whose interception in the closing
seconds sealed the victory.
I see his
resignation to "doing whatever the team needs" and starting on
the line as a junior and senior for the Bucs; and playing his entire senior
year with a broken foot.
I see his hope as
Coe's recruiter wonders why he wasn't...
I see the
transformation from a scrawny high school six-footer of less than 160
pounds on the line to a chiseled 6'3" 220 pound tight end with blazing
speed whose coaches say can play with anyone and just may surprise
everyone at the next level.
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For the past two
weeks as he prepped for what coaches and teammates said would be a great year
for the team and fulfillment of dreams for him, I said on several occasions,
"Son, you have nothing to prove to anyone anymore. You proved it
last year. Your coaches say your ceiling is high. You've become a
great team leader and captain. All of your dreams are coming true.
But no matter what happens from now on, you have nothing else to prove.
Everyone knows now that you can do it. You've worked so hard to get to
this point. I am so proud of you. Now, with nothing else to prove,
just go out, enjoy yourself, be the great teammate that you are, and thank God
for everything."
While I'm glad
for God's prompting to say that before Saturday as truth rather than
consolation after 1:10 p.m. on September 5, I pray fresh hope articulates to
overcome the dashed dream.
Fortunately, it will not be a solo flight.
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With uninhibited
joy, Daniel exclaimed, "I don't ever want to stop doing this!"
Some things stop before
others begin.
That's how God
does things.
For my son, it
means...
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Blessings and Love!
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6 comments:
Very sorry to hear about this. Many prayers for your son and family.
It is no balm for me to remind you that some had dreams and never had the chance to fulfill them.
When Jerry Staton came to Oskaloosa to be the new head football coach in the summer of 1975--the beginning of my senior year, I went again to my parents to ask for their permission to play football. Before my sophomore year, I had asked--and my mother had turned me down. She said that she was afraid that I would be hurt, that my asthma would flare up and harm me, that the dust and dirt and stress would somehow damage me. When I appealed to my father, he refused to back me up, even though he agreed that it was wrong for my mom to single me out from among her four sons. (I held that one thing against him until his dying days.) Jerry Staton--who started FCA at our school--asked me to come out. I could already bench press more than our starting tackles. I could long-snap with one hand. I was a vicious blocker and had a keen mind for the game. I could leverage guys twice my size to move them out of the way. But Mom said no again, and my dad refused to back me...again. I was humiliated. But I obeyed my parents, though it was the beginning of the end for any intimate relationship that I could ever have with my mother.
So I continued to work at the grocery store, and was part of the broadcast team for the football games. And in that duration of time, I saved enough money to fund my first year and a half at ORU, where God called me from teaching and coaching to becoming a pastor. Some things do work out for the good, even when life--your parents, your body, your team--lets you down.
I grieve for Daniel and the end to his football career. Mine ended after my freshman year of high school, at the hands of people I thought wanted me to succeed. But God had something much better for me in mind--though I still mourn the loss of what my other three brothers got to do--and Daniel has his whole life in front of him.
(I told my mother that if ORU had a football team, I would have tried out and won a spot as a walk-on. She reminded me that I had my teeth knocked out in a freshman flag football game. I reminded her that helmets have facemasks, and then told her of the many other injuries I sustained while playing intramural sports at ORU--concussions (which explains some things), broken bones, ruined knees--about which I never told her or my dad when they happened--for fear that they would try to take that away from me, too.)
All of this rambling is a simple reminder that Daniel got to do something that many others only dream about. Now his dreams will have to be of something else, something greater.
Maybe the balm behind this reply is more for me than for you.
I didn't put it together from your text. So sorry for Daniel being injured. Alot to absorb for him and the family.Such a mystery how things work out sometimes.I will be praying that he keeps a strong connect to the one who knows all and will heal the pain. Love to you all,
Praying in agreement with your prayer… “God, wouldn't this be a great opportunity for you to show off and heal him so he is fully restored for your glory to be seen by all just like in Luke 5:12-15 where Jesus healed a great physical impairment that left the people of the community so amazed that crowds of people came to hear him and be healed of their sicknesses!!”
And, I’m adding… “Do it again, God!!! For Your glory to be seen and Your love to be known in greater measure in the community of Belvedere and beyond!! For so many people need You and don’t know Your love or that You do these things still today!” it’s in Jesus’ name that I pray.
Rejoicing in God’s unending and unyielding faithfulness to your son and to your family,
Bob, I can identify with how he feels having been forced to drop football half way through my sophomore year at Wheaton College in 1959. I was basically your son's same height and weight. But two concussions ten days apart brought my college career to an abrupt stop and cost me my half tuition scholarship with which the coach had recruited me. But at age 75, some 56 years later, I thank God that I had parents and a doctor who cared enough to exert the tough love of "no more football." Hang in there with him my friend!
John Huffman
John,
Thank you, brother,...with fond memories.
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