Faith & Entertainment Series | The Last Dance & Free Solo

By Andrew Tai

During quarantine, two of the best movies I’ve seen have been two documentaries: The Last Dance, featuring Michael Jordan and the 1998 Chicago Bulls, and Free Solo, featuring Alex Honnold and his free solo climb (i.e. without rope) of El Capitan.  It’s fair to say that Jordan and Honnold are perhaps the two greatest athletes in their fields of all time.

Jordan and Honnold certainly have different personalities–Jordan is petty, ruthless, and unhealthily competitive; Honnold is intense and passionate too but seems to have a “whatever will be will be” attitude even during his riskiest climbs.  Yet a common theme I noticed in both of these documentaries is the impact of the words their parents spoke to them as children.

In The Last Dance, we learn that when Jordan was younger, his father favored Jordan’s older brother (who at the time was the better basketball player), and how his dad once disappointedly told him to “get back in the house with the women.”  Jordan’s sister writes, “It was my father’s early treatment of him and Daddy’s declaration of his worthlessness that became the driving force that motivated him.” 

In Free Solo, Honnold talks about how “in his entire life, no one in his family had ever used the L-word (love).”  Honnold’s dad frequently demeaned him when he was younger, and his mom’s favorite sayings were “Almost doesn’t count,” or “Good enough isn’t.”  Honnold, probably one of the most accomplished climbers in the world, talks about how he feels that “No matter how well I ever do at anything, it’s not that good.”

In reflecting on these two I’ve thought about how profoundly the voices we hear shape and influence us, and of course on what voices I’ve allowed to shape me.  I think about mixed messages I hear as a kid; on the one hand, my dad’s favorite refrain to me as a child–“As long as you try your best, you are the best”–often comes to me and brings comfort when my plans don’t go as I’d hoped or I encounter failure and disappointment.  On the other hand, I can still remember my mom’s disappointment after I got a 44% on a math test in 4th grade; I can remember the silent and tense car ride home and the immediate enrolling in Saturday morning tutoring classes.

Whether through my parents, school, or media, somewhere along the line I learned that I’d be a failure if I wasn’t successful professionally; that what matters most are my accomplishments; that people only care about me because of what I do for them.  I’ve spent years now trying to unlearn and unhear these voices, though frankly I’m not sure they’ll ever go away.  

As Christians, at the end of all our theology, our musings and reflections, our prayers and worship, lies the simple but bottomless truth that we are God’s chosen and beloved children.  God’s words to Jesus, “You are my Son, and with you I am well pleased,” are spoken not just to Christ but over all of us as well.  The Christian life can be difficult and challenging, and ultimately I think cannot be sustained apart from the continual reminder of this truth.

I pray that even during this crazy, quarantined time, you all would hear the words of God spoken over you and try your best to allow them to speak more loudly than the others in your life.  If we might let them, these words can serve as an antidote to all the voices around us that tell us we are not enough, and can move us to deeper relationship with our God and with each other.