Passing of a Prairie Prince of Peace

Sportswriter Adrian Wojnarowski tells the story of watching 7’7” Manute Bol play college basketball in Connecticut. After an impressive game defending the basket, Bol came out as the bench took the floor for the final minute. As Wojnarowski’s party scooted toward the gym exit, he writes:

We walked slowly behind the University of Bridgeport’s bench and some kid stopped a few feet from [Bol] and said loudly enough for Bol to hear: “Is he real? Can I touch him?” I’ll never forget Bol glancing back toward him, his sad, soft eyes delivering an answer to a question that no one ever needed to ask.

I was on vacation and relatively unplugged last week when the news broke that the compassionate NBA giant—and quiet Olathe resident— Manute Bol passed away, so I only learned of it on Sunday. He died from complications of kidney disease—and a horrible skin infection he contracted while visiting the hospitals he founded in Sudan. His funeral was held in Washington DC’s National Cathedral—with Senator Sam Brownback speaking, among others (see photo), and his body has been flown to his native Sudan for burial there.

I regret I never met Manute. Actually, I was looking forward to engineering an introduction when I learned the news. See, Manute’s children come to worship occasionally with a Kaw Prairie friend (you’d recognize his youngest as the active little guy who dances in the front row during the opening worship sets!)

Manute has been a hero to me for several years. Not because he was a great athlete; even he conceded that wasn’t exactly the case. Nor because he was a local celebrity; in fact, few non-Africans realized he lived here. He’s been my hero because he was an awkward but awesome child of God to whom God gave huge—and uncomfortable—blessings, and who chose to sacrifice those blessings with a selflessness quite rare among today’s crowd of superstars—or suburbanites.

Manute’s NBA contribution was defensive: he blocked shots like nobody’s business (maybe the only player in the league to have more blocked shots than points.) And his life was poured out in defense of others, too: He sent nearly all his fortune to restore some shalom (peace, health & joy) to the violence-ravaged, poverty-stricken country of his youth. And he didn’t do it because he was a Sudanese loyalist or a grateful American. He didn’t do it because he was a Patriot, Gentleman, or Humanitarian. He did it because he was a simply—and humbly—a follower of Jesus Christ.

Government professor Jon Shields of Claremont McKenna College (a secular, liberal arts college near LA) summarized Manute’s life-mission with an insightful Wall Street Journal article on ‘redemption’:

When his fortune dried up, Bol raised more money for charity by doing what most athletes would find humiliating: He turned himself into a humorous spectacle. Bol was hired, for example, as a horse jockey, hockey player and celebrity boxer. Some Americans simply found amusement in the absurdity of him on a horse or skates. And who could deny the comic potential of Bol boxing William "the Refrigerator" Perry, the 335-pound former defensive linemen of the Chicago Bears?

Bol agreed to be a clown. But he was not willing to be mocked for his own personal gain as so many reality-television stars are. Bol let himself be ridiculed on behalf of suffering strangers in the Sudan; he was a fool for Christ.

Indeed, as St Paul points out in 1 Corinthians 1, God often anoints the people whom the world considers foolish or freakish in order to shame those who think they are spiritual, righteous, entitled or wise. (Yikes! That might include me!)

As we celebrate Independence Day this Sunday (including here at KP in worship), I know I’ll be giving thanks for the blessings that God’s given me as an American. But thanks to Manute, I’ll be remembering that Jesus calls me not just to celebrate my life and liberty—but to sacrifice them. In fact, Jesus does not call me to the pursuit of happiness, but to a difficult mission of sacrifice. And only there, in the foolishness of following Him, does joy and freedom find me.

Rest in Christ’s peace, Manute.

5 You must have the same attitude that Christ Jesus had.
6 Though he was God, he did not think of equality with God as something to cling to.
7 Instead, he gave up his divine privileges; he took the humble position of a slave and was born as a human being.
When he appeared in human form, 8 he humbled himself in obedience to God. Philippians 2:5-8