Coach

When I was younger, I used to dream of being wealthy enough to donate large sums of money to organizations that were making a positve impact in the world. At that time, I thought cutting a check and being the financial backer for non-profit organizations would be a healthy way to make a difference for large masses of people.

I was wrong.

These days, I’m saying those three words an awful lot – which is cathartic.

A few months ago, I felt like God planted a message in my heart: “We need fewer churches and more fight clubs.” I never took it in the literal sense of starting underground fight clubs where overworked white collar men would beat each other to a pulp, as they did in Chuck Palahniuk’s Fight Club; rather, I translated the phrase as a method of understanding a missing piece in modern-day ministry: men face difficult battles in their modern-day lives, and need ministry that breaks the mold of what they find in most modern churches.

It wasn’t long after this that I began to encounter a series of random men in my life, each with a particular area that I was uniquely positioned to speak life into. From gas station attendants to boxing/mma gym owners, I began to intersect and have raw conversations with a plethora of men that were in their own individual fight – or mission.

“Aaron, I need help quitting XXX. Can you help me?” said a voice on a late-night phone call. We talked for nearly three hours that night, unpacking a multitude of dirt in the man’s life. “You don’t have to do this alone” I said, “let me step in the ring with you while you battle.”

That phone call has led to a series of check-ins, raw conversations and prayer. Not the “Now I lay me down to sleep” sort of prayer; much less, the “God, help this man with his struggle” as much as they’ve been prayers binding up a very real enemy that seeks to steal, kill and destroy every man and woman on the face of this plane[t].

As time has passed, the ‘random’ conversaions seem far less random, and much more like divine appointments with brothers that are in the middle of a very real fight with evil.

Recently, I began volunteering at a non-profit organization unlike others; a boxing gym, dedicated to helping youth – with boxing as the vehicle for their ministry. It seems like an unlikely place for at-risk youth to find a light in the darkness of their pain, broken houeholds or abuse. Yet, the lives this places touch is unique to any ministry I’ve encountered.

When I first walked through the door of the gym, I introduced myself to the owner and gave him a very brief introduction; “X told me about this place – and you – and that you need help. I’m here to help.” A short while later, he invited me to volunteer during his youth open gym nights, stating he needed help keeping the kids on track while they trained.

I watched as the gym filled up with a small army of young boys and teenagers; strapping on their gear as they began their warm-ups on heavy bags, shadowboxed in front of a large mirror or jumped rope – many of them were better boxers than I am, and I felt somewhat unqualified to offer them any advice.

Tucked away in the back corner, I noticed one teenager who was lightly punching one of the bags. Tap. Tap. Tap…
Walking up to him, I asked if I could give him a few pointers on his punch.

“Pretend you’re holding a can of coke. When you punch, you spill the coke on the floor as you extend” I shared. “Give it another shot.”

The punches got stronger and more accurate. He started to work up a sweat as the pace intensified.

“How long have you been coming here?” I asked.

“About a week”

“You’re in a good place. Let’s do some mitt-work.” I replied, before walking to the equipment rack and grabbing a pair of leather boxing mitts.

Admittedly, I’ve been more on the punching side of mitts than the coaching side. However, it wasn’t long before he was throwing series of 2, 3 and 4 punch combos as I guided him through the movements. If you’ve ever worn a pair of boxing gloves, you’ll know how exhausting these drills can be…

“Nice work. Go drink some water.”

Before he got to the drinking fountain, another ‘kid’ stopped me and asked if I could work with him. Then another. Then another…

Finally, the biggest ‘kid’ in the gym stepped up to the plate. He was 240lb and hit like a hammer, stepping in with each punch to close the distance between us. In some ways, it felt more like sparring than mitt work. By the time we finished, we were both waterfalling sweat.

That’s when it all it hit me; this is exactly the type of place where God can use me. It didn’t involve cutting a check or wearing a bow-tie to a gala. Rather, it was behind a pair of leather mitts with kids that desperately need all of the help, love and encouragement they can get. Chances are, they don’t find it at home.

God taught me an important lesson during that session:

God’s army doesn’t need watchers. It needs fighters. People who are willing to get into the proverbial ring and work with the soul(s) in front of them.

Years ago, my Mom told me that I’d ‘Go where others are afraid to go.” and tonight, I began to see this Word come to fruition.

Some look at a boxing gym and think its a breeding ground for violence and injury. They coudn’t be more wrong. Rather, places like this gym are where young men are transformed into strong warriors, while learning the art of discpline and respect, as well as a healthy outlet to channel their emotions, thoughts and pain from broken homes.