Sixth Man

My pastor once likened me to Andre Iguodala, and I took it personally. I remember leaving that meeting feeling offended, like deeply, not gonna talk this over with anyone, not even God offended, because I was embarrassed. I felt like he’d called me a bench warmer. And I’ve never been a bench warmer. 

It’s comical how wrong emotion can get it at times.

I grew up watching basketball. So, outside of my feelings, I know that the sixth man is the first substitution. I know that sixth men may not start, but they often play as many minutes and score just as many points as starters because they’re good enough to be starters. 

Sixth men are varied players, not benchwarmers.

They excel in various roles. Their ability to play well in multiple positions speaks to a team’s depth – to its excellence.  

Yet, at the time, I felt overlooked. Insecure, I was doubtful if I even belonged on the team. So, I found myself trying to prove my value because I didn’t understand that my value to the team was affirmed when I was invited to practice. The conversation was no longer about if I deserved to be there. It was now about development for growth because I was a rookie even with the experience I brought. 

But I didn’t believe it that way.

Insecurity is tricky. I wasn’t used to being first off the bench. It felt like a demotion. So, instead of fully embracing the resistance that comes with becoming more, I shrank back and grew defensive. I stopped practicing because why bother if it’s for a never-ending audition?

I needed a heart check.

I needed better, less bitter voices.

I needed understanding and wisdom. 

And I needed healing and humbling. 

Because I was open to learning, even thirsty for it, but I didn’t have a good grasp on reality. I didn’t understand that new to the arena didn’t void my experience. It meant I was prepared for more, and that’s partly because I hadn’t accepted that I was a team member. I was still struggling to admit that existed in the league.

It’s been a year and a half since that meeting. Since then, I’ve spent a lot of time on the bench healing and rehabbing because I further injured myself trying to play a role before my time.

I see that I was insecure, more insecure than I was ready to admit to myself in hindsight. So even hearing my pastor speak to it made me cringe. Formally riding the bench has helped me see and understand that my vision was blurry because I hadn’t gotten comfortable seeing myself as God saw me. I hadn’t accepted who He said I was and what I’d become. Maybe in theory, and sometimes inaction, but not in heart. 

I had a broken filter because I still had a broken heart that idolized fear and comparison. I was prideful. So, even seated in answered prayers, I still somehow thought that playing small with the lingering sting of rejection and disbelief meant safety. I’d graduated to the pros yet wanted to rejoin the high school team. 

See how insecurity distorts?