That isolated moment when the blaring bands grow silent and the shouting crowd is muffled, my eyes stare skyward tracking the brown pigskin missile through its arc and now accelerating toward me. Holding my gaze, even though my periphery detects the maulers sprinting to seize upon me, I navigate position for the catch.

Punt Return Formation was called. Like so many times before, it was my job to receive that ‘missile’ and do something with it. The catch was good. Now I looked this way and that. Took two steps to the right, planted my foot, dipped left with my shoulder, then shot right and bam! Down. Maybe 4 or 5 yards.

I jogged over to the sideline and here comes Coach Hoerner flying over at me - legs astride, leaning in toward me, shoots his upturned palms out in front, curls his lips and shouts . . . “Run the ball, Bobby. RUN THE BALL!”

I was shocked. All I could say was, “I did. I did run the ball.”
He turned and huffed off.

I just stood there wondering what I’d done wrong. What the heck was the problem. Finally I resolved within myself, ‘I don’t care! Next time I return the punt, I’m gonna catch it and just go. I don’t care!’

Well the next time came and I just . . . ran. No dancing, no juking, not foolin’ or fakin’. No equivocating whatsoever.

Lo and behold, I made some serious yards. I shot into that hoard of marauders and hit them, or slid or ducked or plowed and spun; all without thinking. Spontaneous, automatic.
Funny, I began to do that from then on. I’d frequently get 6, 11, 15 or 25 yards at a shot. Whereas before I’d only get 3 or 4, or rarely 9 or 10.

I learned something that day that has never left me. Through different seasons of my life I’d hear those words again. Often in times of trial or struggle. Sometimes when I’ve been indecisive, lazy, or afraid to take a risk. Or, when I knew I was pretending - making a show of effort without real conviction. It warned me not to equivocate, hesitate or permit the paralysis of fear. It encouraged me to reach higher and stay the course.

This word seeped into matters of faith - the call of Christ to press on and press into His vision for me. When I lacked the resolve to honestly, aggressively, and wholeheartedly pursue God’s promises, then I’d hear it again: “Run the ball, Bobby. RUN THE BALL!”

Truly, it has been as the voice of God. The God who uses common men like you and me. Who, by His Spirit, speaks hope and inspiration through our lips. He took the shout of correction from my great High School football coach and made it a living word that still strengthens and propels my life.

Thanks, John Hoerner. We all know you have a big heart, but who knew you were a prophet?