It happened in my freshman year of college. A packed gym. A live microphone. Great anticipation.
Live radio is becoming increasingly obsolete as streaming services, podcasts, and other various forms of digital entertainment take shape to the fast-paced instantaneous demand of our culture.
Ever since I was very young, Mike Shannon’s deep southern croon colorfully painted a picture of what was easily my favorite thing to think about, Cardinal baseball.
Late nights, with an alarm clock radio under my pillow, many nights were spent listening to those late innings; “a deep fly ball into left field…”
I was there, tracking the stitched leather through the stadium lights, its high arc with a destination to be foretold.
The importance of words began to take importance to me then, but it was until I was 18 that I had to learn a hard lesson about the impact a few thoughtless ones can have on so many.
It was October 2018 when I first saw the poster, calling for young sports broadcasting enthusiasts to take part in WGRN 89.5, Greenville University radio. I called and expressed my great interest and was given the opportunity to cover college basketball games.
I remember preparing for the first game, several nights after cross country practice, homework took a backseat as I poured over home and away team rosters, making notes, reading articles, dreaming big dreams about making historic calls.
I smile even now as I think back, there was no training or even a tip guide prior to my first game. I was shown a soundboard and where the “go live” switch was and that was it.
The whistle blew, the tip off underway, WE WERE LIVE.
Calling every play during a game takes a level of focus that is higher than that of most spectators. I am responsible for every out of bounds call, every free throw, every second left on the shot clock.
I was drawn in, never had I watched basketball so closely. Greenville University men’s basketball historically plays the game in an unconventional way, full court pressing the whole game, taking as many shots as they can, invoking chaos on the opponent, forcing them to play differently than any other team. Most of the time, this worked.
Many nights were closed in joyful jubilance at the victory on the court that is, until we faced Webster, a conference rival that turned into a heated duel in Patterson gymnasium.
At the half, it was deadlocked, the Greenville Panthers trailed the Gorlocks by 2, 59-61.
I was 8 years old again, fighting for every rebound, taking a deep breath before every free throw. I was encapsulated by the action of the game, no longer just a sports broadcaster, not a die-hard fan. I was willing the Spalding to find the net with as much intensity as every player on that roster.
Greenville University lost the game that day, the game ended with a heated scuffle, coaches and referees fought to control the tempers of the players who had given their all for the 2 twenty-minute half’s.
I felt their frustration, shared in their sadness, completely forwent my responsibility to call the game.
My words dripped bitterly, I attacked the refs. “Never has a team gotten away with so many fouls not called!” “Due to poor officiating, the refs lost Greenville the game!”
I didn’t stop there.
It wasn’t just the refs.
“I guess even when you play with no integrity, you can still win a basketball game”
(Several other statements were made which I will spare you the second-hand embarrassment of reading on my behalf)
That Sunday afternoon, I got a phone call. It was Ryan, studio manager from WGRN studios. He wanted to meet with me right away. On a Sunday.
“Mr. Nichols, I got a call from the president of the university. There were several calls and email complaints on the way the game was called the other night. We need to speak about your professionalism.”
I failed at my responsibility.
The weight of my words in the heat of the moment now felt heavier than the post-game moments themselves.
Hand-written letters of apologies to both coaches followed.
Years have passed since that Sunday afternoon meeting, but the event sticks with me. Not as a memory of embarrassment or shame, but as a pivotal point of learning.
At eighteen, I learned that my words represented a university.
I represented every player, every coach, every fan, every listener.
I learned a lesson that week, my words are a representation of more than just me.
But years later, I came to understand something far greater.
I don’t just represent my family, the company I work for, or the people I associate myself with.
I represent a Savior.
With unmistakable clarity, scripture speaks directly to the impact words have. “Death and life are in the power of the tongue” Proverbs 18:21. These words carry a gravitational pull on my heart.
The lesson I learned in a college gymnasium was God at work, preparing me for so much more.
The apostle Paul introduces himself in Romans 1:1 as “a servant of Christ Jesus”. Translated in English as servant, the Greek text of the word is bondservant. A slave to a master. One of belonging fully to another. Not a slave to injustice, but to an all-loving, powerful creator God, who works through His people. My words are no exception to His calling me to declare total allegiance and joyful surrender.
“You are not your own, for you were bought with a price” 1 Corinthians 6:19 and 20.
Bought.
Once a slave to sin, now bought —purchased with the blood on the cross.
As he grows and shapes me, my belonging to him my words to not be used carelessly. The . The platforms I am given, whether it’s a microphone, a text message, a work meeting,
James writes with piercing precision in James 3:5 that the tongue is small, yet it boasts of great things. How great a forest is set ablaze by such a small fire. How greater my prayer as Christian that my words be carefully and truthfully kindled and then set ablaze by His eternal glory, used to smoke out what is hidden and leave behind merciful change.
Jesus says in Matthew 5:16, “Let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven.”
It’s important to point out this direction of glory. Not toward the broadcaster of the employee. Not toward the worship leader or the athlete. Toward the Father.
If I am a son, I should bear a resemblance of the Father. If I am a slave of Christ, I should obey his commands.
This is an impossible task to do without a complete heart change. As Paul states in Colossians, “Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men” in Colossians 3:23. There is one who always sees all things. My audience now is omnipresent,
This now has me considering the way I treat everyone, especially those who frustrate me, disagree with me, or wrong me, I am reminded of the words of Christ from John 13:35: “By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”
All people.
This includes the unknown individual that swerves at you in disgust on the highway. The family member you love dearly but hurts you again and again.
I once represented Greenville University on a local broadcast. Now I realize I represent the King of Kings in every moment.
This awakening has changed the way that I speak, making me more thoughtful about my words, learning to be more aware of my sharp tone. Seeking true heart change and bearing the fruits of the Spirit.
The price paid for me on the cross is a constant reminder when I fail.
As a son, I seek to reflect my Father.
As a slave of Christ, I seek to obey my Master.
As a business developer, I remember that my words carry weight far beyond the moment in which they are spoken.
The whistle still blows.
The game still moves quickly.
The world reacts in haste.
Father, teach me to pause before I speak.
Let the words of my mouth speak your glory alone.
