I was an amazing wrestler. I wrestled for 6 years and went undefeated for 2 years. I was only pinned twice in my career; once in my first match and another time when I was knocked unconscious by my own arrogance and pride. I beat wrestlers who were ranked in state and I even wrestled national champions. I started going to Varsity practices when I was in 8th grade and just to push me my coaches made me wrestle the Heavy Weights in practice (I weighed 171lbs, heavy weight is over 230).
One time my coaches had me wrestle up 2 weight classes in a duel meet. I stepped onto the mat to shake the hand of the opponents coaches son, a 6’1 and 215lbs miniature man with a slight 5′oclock shadow. I looked up at him as if I was David facing Goliath. It was a match of epic proportions as the balance of our duel meet hung on my ability to defeat our opponents best wrestler who happened to only weighed 35lbs more than me. I stared at him as the whistle blew and our match started. His strength was greatly overpowering me. Yet, I was good, very good. So I quickly used his size and strength against him catching him off-balance and in a move of pure eloquence and grace rarely seen in a wrestling match my opponent landed on the mat locked in my fierce grip. The next 30 seconds was a battle as I stared into his eyes and squeezed his body watching the blood constrict as his shoulders inched closer to the mat. Then it happened, the ref slapped the mat and signaled a pin. I let go and was surrounded my cheers of excitement. David had defeated Goliath.
There are a myriad of other stories that I often tell often avoiding a very key part of my wrestling career. I was a good wrestler that is true. I went undefeated and wrestled heavy weights in practice which is also true. What often is never said is that I quit in the beginning of my junior year. In my sophomore year I refused to challenge the senior to take varsity in our district meet, thus I entered as the second man from our team, the lowest seed. I fought through a number of opponents, even defeating a fellow senior in my youth group, only to find myself in a battle for 3rd place. Only the top 3 from each weight go to state. I had moved past our teams first seed senior into a higher placing, I had come from the bottom to challenge seniors who had done this before. The guy I was wrestling for 3rd was intimidating, he was huge, fierce and a senior as well. He was a veteran having gone to state before. I was but a sophomore who had spent 2 years undefeated in the JV league. Our match contains too much detail for this blog, but I lost on a cheap shot by my opponent. I was cheated out of going to state by one place. I placed 4th in the toughest district in the state in the 171 weight class and I held back tears as I crawled off the mat after my match.
I continued to practice with the team going to state. I pushed them hard out of my anger and frustration knowing I should have won. I should have been better… It killed me. Realizing where I should have been and where I was, I quit. I entered the wrestling room my junior year of high school, one of the best wrestlers our team had and proceeded to have a mental break down over the next 3-4 weeks. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t push myself. I felt broken, worthless and like I would never be good enough. So I quit and the decision has haunted me ever since.
I loved wrestling and still do, but it is painful to admit that I quit. I could have been a contender. I could have been someone instead of a failure, a bum, which is what I am. When I look at quitting and wrestling it is a part of my past and choices in life that I want to forget. I probably could have gone to college on a full-ride wrestling scholarship if I wanted. But I didn’t.I quit because I could never be as good as I though I should have been.
Years later, enter my junior year of college where I was the Vice-President of our student government. I was leading an early morning prayer time for STUGO (Student Government) and students before classes (i.e. 6am). There are only 2 moments that I can ever say God clearly and evidently spoke to me. The first was sitting in orientation as a freshman God clearly spoke to me and said “I want you to become a pastor.” So, naturally I went into youth ministry as my major, instead of Pastoral Ministries. That lasted a semester before guilt took over and I switched to Speech & Communications. That lasted a semester before finally God got me in the pastoral ministry major. That only took 8 years to complete the degree…
As I was sitting in the prayer time I flipped open to the story of Jacob in Genesis 32. Jacob was a thief who basically stole his brothers birth-right (inheritance). His name literally means one who supplants. Imagine having a name that always reminds you of who you are? It would be like Bryce meaning “Failure” or “Quitter”, except unlike american names, my name would probably just be “quitter” which would be spelled Bryce. Jacob is going to meet up with his brother, whom is stole a very important part of his life from. Jacob is left alone and all the bible says is “So Jacob was left alone, and a man wrestled with him till daybreak.” It was in reading that passage that God clearly spoke to me. He said “Bryce, why do you run and hide from me? Why don’t you face me and wrestle with me?”
In wrestling you wrestle for 6 minutes total in 3 rounds at 2 minutes a piece. I could not fathom wrestling with someone all night, and then to have a hip displaced and wrestling through the pain. I could not imagine wanting something that badly that I would suffer and place myself through that kind of torture, not even to know God more… God had called me out.
I spent time praying asking God to reveal to me the state of my heart and to prepare me to wrestle Him. I wanted to be one who was willing to wrestle with God and fight to know him more. I wanted to be able to say ” I saw God face to face, and yet my life was spared.” I wanted to be able to say that I was that close to God… That is what I wanted, to wrestle God and never quit.
That spring semester I resigned as the Vice-president of STUGO, flunked out of college, and got my first tattoo. I then started working in a church and a year and a half later had a blow up with the pastor and left the church wounded and hurt. I battled addiction and spent a year of my life in what I like to call “The dark year” living in a basement with no windows and living a life far from God. I wanted to love God but didn’t know how any more. I felt hurt by people and let down and didn’t even know if I believed in this “God” who I at one time when to college to get a degree in studying. It was through the very honest and bold words of a woman I was dating during that time in my life that I got started back on track, painfully and slowly. I started going to counseling and got involved with a very healthy church and a group of friends. In wrestling with God through all those years and even trying to get away, unlike the story of Jacob, it was God whom I could not prevail against and he won by calling me back to him.
Brennan Manning in his book Abba’s Child: The cry of the heart for intimate belonging quotes Mike Yaconelli, the founder of Youth Specialties, during his time with Henri Nouwen:
I heard him, and my slumbering soul was filled with the joy of the prodigal son. My soul was awakened by a loving Father who had been looking and waiting for me. Finally, I accepted my brokenness… I had never come to terms with that. Let me explain. I knew I was broken. I knew I was a sinner. I knew I continually disappointed God, but I could never accept that part of me. It was a part of me that embarrassed me. I continually felt the need to apologize, to run from my weakness, to deny who I was and concentrate on what I should be. I was broken, yet, but I was continually trying never to be broken again–or at least to get to the place where I was very seldom broken…
I wept when I read that. I am a perfectionist and I hate people seeing that I can’t do something. I never want to admit making mistakes because I cannot live up to my own standards. It is not God who calls me to live a perfect life, it is me trying to impress God and others with my perfect life. Instead, my life got progressively worse and my sin because insurmountable. God doesn’t want us to get to a point where we are perfect. Rather, he wants us to get to a point to where we realize we are imperfect and it is His love that looks at us and says “If you but simply love me and try, you are perfect in my eyes.”
But God, I don’t want to be “perfect in your eyes” I want to be perfect in MY eyes… I don’t want to be broken. I don’t want to admit my addiction, my sin, my failures, because I will never be good enough. God, don’t you understand, I am not good enough!
I weep as I hear the words of God saying to me “Bryce you will never be good enough. Accept it. I just want you to give me the part of you that isn’t good enough, and together we can begin to heal your wounds.” I say “But God, then you’ll see how imperfect and horrible of a sinner I am” God replies “My son, I made you. I watched you grow in your mother’s womb. I saw your first steps when you failed thousands of times before walking. I saw you when you still wet the bed. My son, I am your Abba and you are my child.”
Tattooed on my right shoulder is an intricate cross with the name “One who wrestles with God” in Hebrew across it. On the inner part of my arm is Jacob wrestling God. This tattoo was started before the dark years, and before my life felt like it was in ruins. Yet at each moment in my life as I stand before the mirror everyday it reminds me that while I may have quit wrestling and strayed in my faith, each day I will strive to engage God and never quit… To pursue him relentlessly and let his healing love wash over my heart and life and bring me peace.
My tattoo is not for art, it is a part of my life and a piece of my story. It contains the hidden failures of a wrestler who quit at the peak of his career because he could never live up to his own standards. The tattoo also contains the struggles and failures and successes of a very imperfect man who desires to seek after God. Just as Jacob was scarred from his encounter with God, a daily reminder of his encounter, so too my tattoo serves as a daily reminder of the God who loves me and desires me to wrestle with him. Except, God doesn’t want me to wrestle with him as a competitor seeking to dominate and win, but rather as a child who wrestles with his Abba which always ends with both boys side by side leaning against the couch laughing and bonding.
