Tribune: Faith and Wrestling in a Small Town

I saw the love of Christ in Tribune, Kansas – a small town just across the Colorado border. I do some traveling and speaking during the summers at “faith and wrestling” camps that have popped up since the release of my book of the same title; and several months prior, I received a call from David Miller asking if I would be willing to make the trip out to Tribune. I happily agreed.

Due to the location of Tribune, I had to fly from Minneapolis into Denver first before jumping into a rental car and driving a few hours to the border. By the time I reached Kansas, it was already late into the night. I had to strain my eyes and focus a bit harder in order to make sure my car stayed safely on the road. With nothing but farmland to the left and right of me, there was no light shining upon my path save for the weak beam from my headlights. To make matters worse, my phone was draining of battery life, and I was using my phone for directions through the GPS navigation feature. The thought occurred to me that I may end up stranded in the middle of nowhere with no foreseeable sign of rescue. With what little battery was left, I called David in order to make sure I successfully arrived in Tribune. Thankfully, he quickly answered and guided me the rest of the way.

As I pulled in front of the house, I saw David and his son sitting on the front porch. I stepped out of the car – tired and grasping for whatever energy I could find to offer a suitable greeting. But my effort was pathetic, to say the least. David welcomed me with a smile, and brought me inside the house to meet the rest of the family. As I met his family, I apologized for my zombie-like state and promised to be more energetic the next morning.

David led me to where I’d be staying, which was a house just a little way down the road. It was so dark, and I was so tired, that I didn’t really have a chance to survey the town. David brought me inside and gave me a quick tour of the place.

Before leaving and allowing me the opportunity to sleep the night away, he let me know that plans had changed slightly for the morning. Unfortunately, a young man in town had recently passed away in a terrible car accident, and the funeral was tomorrow. So the wrestling camp would start later in the afternoon. “You obviously don’t need to attend, you can just hang out here in the morning,” he said. “But I’ll be at the funeral, and you’re welcome to meet me there if you want.” He said this while pointing out the window toward the small church where the funeral service would be held. I told him I would be there.

After he left, I wasted no time in climbing into bed and falling fast asleep.

I woke up the next morning to the sound of birds chirping, and the bright sunlight shining through the window above my bed. I looked at the clock and noticed that I still had time to get ready and head over to the church. But before getting ready, I stepped out the front door in order to take a gander at the town for the first time. It truly was a “small” town. Everything seemed to be walking distance, as if having a car was really of no importance unless you had to leave town for some reason. I imagined a place like this had a wonderful and rich history. As I stood there, caught in a brief state of thought, a giant bird flew right by my head, scaring the living daylights out of me! I later discovered that it was a turkey vulture. Not desiring a run-in with another turkey vulture or perhaps one of its massive friends, I quickly went back inside, got dressed, and walked over to the church.

Admittedly, going to a funeral wasn’t exactly how I envisioned spending the first part of my trip. But something in me prompted that I should go.

I sat in a pew by myself. The sadness of the event pervaded the room. As the service started, I realized that the young man who passed away was my age. What’s more is that he was the father to two young girls. David came in and sat next to me. As he did so, one of the daughters walked up front to provide some words of remembrance of her father. But about halfway through she had to stop and sit back down. The tears wouldn’t stop, and communicating any further became impossible. We all understood; and I couldn’t help but think about my little ones at home. The heaviness on my heart was unbearable. Even though I didn’t know the man, a tear trickled down my cheek.

When the service ended, I helped David and his family, along with the pastor and his family, serve a meal to those grieving in attendance. I realized just how much David and his family were involved in their church as well as their community. It was a beautiful thing. There wasn’t a hint of unwanted obligation expressed. Both families revealed a sincere love and passion to serve others, like it was natural to them.

After the funeral, David gave me a tour of the town while riding in his truck, along with his sons and the pastor in the backseat. He gave me a brief history of Tribune – pointing at various things along the way and sharing stories that have made the town what it is today. I found myself intrigued by it all. We then grabbed our wrestling gear and headed over to the high school to start the wrestling camp.

It was a small camp in terms of attendance; but I didn’t much care. The young wrestlers were attentive to every word of instruction as I taught a series of wrestling technique. Afterwards, I had them take a seat on the mat, and I shared my heart and passion for the sport alongside my heart and passion for Christ within it.

As we closed up the camp in the evening, David thanked me and profusely apologized for the small attendance despite my consistent response that an apology was absolutely unnecessary. He shared more of his heart to me – not just for wrestling but for his town. He told me that the wrestling program had been cut years ago and had only recently been reinstated. He believed the sport to carry a wealth of significance; that wrestling was a way for him to more easily engage others, especially the younger people in his community, to impact their lives, and to love them as Christ loves the Church. However, he felt that perhaps he was alone in the fight to help wrestling survive in Tribune. There was a deep sadness in his eyes when he communicated the thought of a potential folding of the program again in the future. The sincerity was so real…and quite frankly, powerful.

David and his family hosted a special dinner for all those in attendance at the camp, followed by a bonfire in the backyard. And the more I talked with the people who called Tribune home, the more I found myself overwhelmed by their love, kindness, and overt authenticity. I’ve met some great people in my life; but there was something incredible about the people of Tribune that had me dumbfounded.

I was scheduled to speak at the church the next morning: a sermon based off of fragments of my book. As I walked to the church, and as I continued to look around, I noticed something fascinating: that is, for a small town, there were churches everywhere! A couple thoughts immediately came to mind: (1) where were all the people coming from who attended these churches[?], and (2) these people must really love Jesus!

I gave my sermon and received countless hugs and handshakes from the wonderful people in the church after the service, thanking me for being there and for my message.

I had a long drive ahead of me back to Denver in order to catch my flight home to Minnesota. But before leaving, David and his family wanted to take me out to lunch along with the pastor and his family. The closest “larger” town was Goodland, which was about forty-five minutes to an hour away. So we drove to Goodland, in caravan-like fashion, in order to enjoy a meal at Steak and Shake – nothing fancy, but every bit of delicious.

Before I left, the pastor handed me an envelope with a check inside, and David walked me to the car. He thanked me, paid me for my part in the wrestling camp, and again started right into profusely apologizing for the small attendance. I stopped him. I told him that there was no need to apologize, that I would do it all over again, that I could see his love for our great sport, and that his heart for Christ was incredible. “If anything,” I said, “I should be thanking you.”

I think he appreciated my response, because we hugged like men.

David made his way back inside the restaurant, and I hopped inside the rental car, ready to make the drive back to Denver. But before starting the car, I opened the envelope the pastor handed me earlier. And as I did so, I was immediately overwhelmed with gratitude. The check was written for twice the amount I asked for. Just another testament to the kind of people I had been blessed to be around that weekend.

I started the car and made the long journey home…

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About a month later, I received an unexpected package in the mail. It was from David. I opened it up and found a letter, along with a few items. The letter thanked me again for spending time in Tribune, and then went on to explain the items gifted in the box: a small travel kit for future trips to wrestling camps and speaking engagements, a bible to bring along which had the words “Faith and Wrestling” engraved at the bottom, and a Tribune onesie for my daughter whose birth was fast approaching.

I immediately called David and thanked him. He of course expressed genuine kindness in return – something I have discovered is simply a true reflection of the man he is. In some ways, I envy him. This farmer from Kansas (I believe) more effectively shares the heart of Christ than I do. All the theology I’ve gathered, and all the books I’ve written, simply don’t hold the same power.

I saw the love of Christ in Tribune, Kansas…and it was remarkable!