Owning Convictions, Breaking Addictions

“. . . So you think watching football is a sin?”

I perceived it as an insult. “Well, of course not,” I would remark, usually leading off into another area of the conversation where I could avoid sharing my convictions with my friends. It hadn’t always been like this, as I had grown up being well acquainted with sports just like any other Californian kid who was growing up during the beginning of the Golden State Warriors’ dynasty. I remember watching one of my first games while my dad explained to me how basketball worked. As we watched the first season of the newly successful team light into an impeccable second season, I got increasingly involved with watching basketball.

Then the playoffs came. My eyes felt glued to the TV as we watched the last Finals game of that season. I expected to see my team win, but a block by the opposing team and a four-point play soon turned the once joyful game into a heart attack moment when the final score was announced. Under severe stress, my eyesight in one eye began to disappear and I was taken to the ER. As I recovered and was brought home, it still didn’t dawn on me to what extent I was addicted to watching sports. But a question came into my mind during this time: Was watching sports a sin? The question would then get buried in my mind as my focus shifted to my soon coming 8th grade graduation.

For the graduation, there was an opportunity for one of the graduates to give a musical performance in front of the large, intimidating theater. As a teenager, I dreamed of seeing the team I supported playing a live Finals game. My dad promised to grant my wish if I would play for my graduation. Needless to say, I accepted his offer, and soon after, we attended the game, paying a lot of money for good seats.

Years passed, with countless hours and thousands of dollars spent, and I remember being so immersed in watching basketball that I, not having cable in my household, would itch watching digits slowly move up on ESPN. Another sport, football, was called to my attention as the Warriors’ dynasty began to die down. And it was during this time that I heard the still, small voice: “It probably isn’t a good idea to watch sports . . .” How could I stop watching sports? Surely I could just watch them in moderation? How could there be any evil in watching football? Would I give up Heaven if I refused to give up sports? The idea baffled me, and I was moved to tears as I tried to reason through the convictions.

It didn’t immediately occur to me why I had been convicted to stop watching sports; I tried to reason outside the thought, but it would persist somehow. I would question why, if it were so bad, so many of my Adventist peers watched sports. And when I started studying at an Adventist college, I also noticed my peers were involved in watching sports and would get so wrapped up in them that they dedicated significant amounts of time keeping up with them, while I was trying to distract myself from watching them. But what weighed on me the most would eventually be the reason that I stopped watching sports altogether. I got a clarification of the truth of my conviction when, standing on my decision to not watch sports, a very close friend remarked to me, “Man, I wish I was like you. I am distracted and frustrated when my team plays and loses.” My questions—and doubts—were beginning to be answered. I didn’t have anyone to go to to solidify my convictions; however, I did notice that my spiritual focus would decrease after watching a game. In 1 John 2, the apostle writes on how we can assess whether we truly know Christ: “He that saith he abideth in him ought himself also so to walk, even as he walked.”^[1] Elaborating on this point, Ellen White writes that “There must be a revival of the strait testimony . . . Every darling indulgence that hinders our religious life must be cut off.”^[2] This continual abiding must mean that even the seemingly innocent indulgences will be accounted for. Whenever I found myself depressed because my team lost the Finals, or even just a simple game, my desires to be with the One Whom I claimed to love faltered. I have found that my ability to seek revival in my life is halted whenever I seek to gratify the things I see as little breaks. 

It reminds me of a scenario that one of my professors often discusses, with slight modifications. Picture this: An overweight husband, jittering with anxiety to watch the wildcard game, bellows across the house, “Honey! The game is on!” The wife, unfazed, replies  “Oh, I was about to wash the dishes–could you help me?” The husband, clutching the remote as if it were a lifeline, says, “Aw . . . shucks, but it’s a really important game! It’s not like our marriage is on the line, right?” Her response: “Well if you don’t come over here to help, it probably will be!” In our case, we treat Christ the same way. Christ asks us, “Would you help to pass out literature this Sunday afternoon?” and we ask “Is this a salvational issue?” We don’t always consider how the small things–the compromises and the way we order our priorities–, which might not appear as grave acts, create cracks in God’s heart. Reflectively I have learned, by striving through God’s grace, to let go and let all be lost for Christ’s sake. 

But I also felt a bit of judgment when I decided to quit watching sports. I would ask myself, “Am I being legalistic for not watching sports?” But this, too, found an answer in one of my earliest moments: From as early as I can recall, my parents had instilled in my heart that I should keep the Sabbath holy, which for six-year-old me meant to refrain from playing with my Legos. My cousins had come on a particular Sabbath, however, and to spend time with my two older cousins the thought of playing with Legos ran through my head. I asked my parent, “Can I play Legos with Danny and Carlos just this time since they are here?” To this, I received the reply, “Okay, just this time.” Despite hearing the answer I had wanted, I struggled with the thought: Why would this be allowed if it was Sabbath? Since that incident, I realized that my decisions and convictions were to be owned, not by my friends, peers, or even my parents, but by me.

In my early teens, I remember times I felt hurt by my close friends because of the small decisions I made moving through different stages of maturity and growth. There were slight differences in entertainment and culture that I decided not to participate in; but these decisions were gradual, not abrupt. I also found that my decisions regarding music, dance, and entertainment created a social barrier–which I hated. As it was, I already felt uncomfortable being left out, and not participating in these things made me feel awkward to the point that I lost connections with many of my childhood friends. I cried and told my mom, “Mom, I need friends,” to which she responded, “You don’t need friends, you need Jesus.” I was semi-annoyed at her reply, but despite my frustration, I chose to trust her advice. I wished my friends would have respected my convictions and, most importantly, seen the fruit of my convictions, but that took time.

Mrs. White writes on the effect of sports on spirituality, stating that among our youth, the passion for football and other games have been “misleading in their influence.”^[3] Some sports only encourage self and pride. Their main objective is to humiliate opponents and triumph at any cost, including intentionally causing physical pain to other players. However, whether or not all sports are inherently evil, one thing remains clear: Their influence is the thing which takes hold of us. Ellen White, commenting on how the influence of sports went as far as quenching the Holy Spirit following institutional revival, wrote that the “light has been beclouded, and it was well pleasing to Satan to have the impression go forth that notwithstanding the wonderful work of the Holy Spirit in behalf of our institutions of learning, . . . they fell back to be overcome by temptation.”^[4] If we numb our senses, if we present a low-yield service to Christ and inhibit our potential to be used by the Holy Spirit, of what use are we as Christians? No matter how we try to reason away our convictions—as I did—, it is clear that this is a starkly serious matter; our calling is on the line. And if anything stands between God and us, no matter what it is, it is by definition a salvational issue.

When I received the conviction about my own addiction, I never saw the immediate results of not watching sports, even though I had the freedom to choose. Instead of basing my convictions on what my friends, family, or peers believed, I learned to hear the voice of God through prayer and scripture, especially in John’s writings and Ellen White’s teachings. At the end of my battle with sports, the convictions I received meant nothing if I did not put faith into practice.

When looking at the decisions that led me to own my convictions, I have found joy and–most importantly–peace. Many of us recall times when we have battled convictions: Some can quit cold turkey, and for others, it takes years. But one principle has guided me and ultimately clarified many of the decisions I have made in response to my convictions:

If it would break God’s heart, why would it fulfill yours?

[1] 1 Jn 2:6 (KJV)
[2] Ellen G. White, Testimonies for the Church, vol. 5 (Mountain View, CA: Pacific Press Publishing Association, 1889), 222.
[3] Ellen G. White, Letters and Manuscripts, vol. 8 (Ellen G. White Estate, 1893), Lt 47, par. 6.
[4] Ibid.