What Are You Living For?: Investing Your Life in What Matters Most

By Pat Williams, Jim Denney and Tom Osborne

After speaking on teaching and influencing young people at a student gathering in Texas, Pat Williams received an email from a high school coach who had heard his talk. Coach McCall's email stated that every kid who's growing up is dying to live his life. But as people get older, instead of dying to live, they start living to die. His closing thought is What are you dying for?

Unable to escape this question, Pat invites readers to ask themselves, When my days on earth are over, will I discover that I have wasted my life on meaningless things that have no lasting and eternal value? Most people are living for four things: fortune, status, power, or pleasure. But there are four far more meaningful and satisfying reasons for living--and for dying. These give purpose and value to our lives, so that we can know our lives have eternal significance. If you died tomorrow, what would people say?

Starting with Jesus's statement that whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for the gospel will save it, Pat gives a powerful, practical, and encouraging plan for how to live a life that truly matters and to leave a legacy that never dies.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
• Release date: Aug 31, 2011
• ISBN: 9781441226136

Pat Williams

Pat Williams is the senior vice president of the NBA's Orlando Magic as well as one of America's top motivational, inspirational, and humorous speakers. Since 1968, Pat has been affiliated with NBA teams in Chicago, Atlanta, Philadelphia, including the 1983 World Champion 76ers, and now the Orlando Magic which he co-founded in 1987 and helped lead to the NBA finals in 1995. Pat and his wife, Ruth, are the parents of nineteen children, including fourteen adopted from four nations, ranging in age from eighteen to thirty-two. Pat and his family have been featured in Sports Illustrated, Readers Digest, Good Housekeeping, Family Circle, The Wall Street Journal, Focus on the Family, New Man Magazine, plus all major television networks.

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2006)

1

WHAT ARE YOU LIVING FOR?

As this book was nearing completion, I went to Boston to run in the Boston Marathon. While there, I visited my son Thomas, who is a senior accountant with the Red Sox organization. He got tickets for his brother and me for a Sunday afternoon game, the day before the Marathon. So there we were, Thomas, his twin brother, Stephen, and old Dad at Fenway Park, watching the Red Sox take on the visiting Texas Rangers.

I was shaking a handful of sunflower seeds into my palm when I heard the stadium announcer say, Now batting for the Rangers—Josh Hamilton!

Well, that name made me sit up straight!

My thoughts went back almost nine years, to the 1999Major League Baseball draft, when 18-year-old Josh Hamilton was the number-one draft pick overall. He was a pitcher and outfielder straight out of Athens Drive High School in Raleigh, North Carolina. Scouting reports said he had the makings of another Mickey Mantle. He threw a consistent 95-mile-per-hour fastball and was called a five-tool player, meaning he was one of those rare players who excelled at hitting for average, hitting for power, base-running, throwing and fielding.

The Tampa Bay Devil Rays paid Josh Hamilton a $4 million signing bonus, making him a multimillionaire at the tender age of 18. Few players ever came into pro baseball with a brighter future awaiting them—yet Josh Hamilton kissed it all away.

The Devil Rays started him in the minors so that he could acquire some seasoning in pro ball. That’s when his life began spinning out of control. Maybe all that money was too much for him to handle. He quickly developed serious addictions to alcohol, cocaine and assorted street drugs. In 2003, he walked away from spring training camp and no one knew where he went. When he returned six weeks later, the team manager turned him away, saying, Come back when you get your life straight. Josh missed the rest of that season.

After that, he checked himself into drug rehab several times, but he couldn’t shake the addiction. He attempted suicide multiple times, usually by overdosing on drugs. He told reporter Bob Nightengale of USA Today, There was even a night I thought about jumping off a building. I had nothing to live for. So I tried to give up. There were a lot of days like that. I let down so many people… . I really didn’t think I deserved to live.

His addiction reached the point where he chain-smoked crack cocaine. I remember one time I woke up in a trailer with about five or six total strangers, he said. It must have been 98 degrees inside. There was no air conditioning. Nothing. My truck was gone. I had no money. But I didn’t care. I was just looking for that next high.

For a while, in 2004, he seemed to get his act together. In November 2004, Josh married a lovely young woman named Katie. Two months later, he relapsed into his full-blown addiction. He got back on track for a while, but in May 2005, he decided to celebrate his birthday with a drinking binge. He fought with Katie, did several hundred dollars worth of damage to a friend’s pickup and was arrested.

By this time, Josh and Katie had two girls, Julia and Sierra, and Katie feared for their safety. Josh’s behavior was simply too scary and unpredictable when he got drunk. She told him to move out, and then she filed a restraining order against him.

Josh Hamilton was out of baseball and had lost his family and home. I had nowhere else to go, he later recalled, but something clicked in my head. My grandmother had always told me I could come to her for any reason, at any time. So in the middle of the night, he knocked on his grandmother’s front door. When she opened the door, she saw a young man so thin and wasted from drug abuse that she hardly recognized him—but she took him in.

A few months later, Katie called Josh and told him she needed him to come home. The baby had come down with a serious case of the flu—and now Katie was sick with it as well. So Josh went home and helped care for his wife and daughter. Then, when he came down with the flu himself, Katie cared for him. Taking care of each other that whole week, Katie later recalled, we thought, well, maybe we still care about each other—maybe there’s still something here.

Around that time, Josh received a phone call from a man he hadn’t seen in years—Roy Silver, who had been a minor league manager in the Devil Rays’ farm system. Silver owned Winning Inning, a baseball camp in Clearwater, Florida. He’d seen Josh’s story in the news. Silver promised that if Josh wanted to pull his life together, the camp was just what he needed.

So Josh went down to Clearwater. The baseball camp was located at the old Jack Russell Memorial Stadium, the longtime spring training home of the Philadelphia Phillies. Winning Inning had taken it over after the Phillies moved to nearby Bright House Field in 2004. Josh lived in a little apartment above the locker room, sleeping on an air mattress. The work he did was far from glamorous: cleaning toilets, mowing the grass, trimming shrubs, sweeping the dugouts, taking out the trash. But the hard work and the Tuesday night Bible study were good for his soul.

Trading his labor for use of the batting cage and other baseball amenities at the camp, Josh focused on rebuilding himself physically, mentally and spiritually. He also worked hard at rebuilding his marriage. Katie recalled, I’d visit him down there and we had time to just get reconnected with each other. It really gave him a chance to show me he was serious about staying clean and sober.

Without the chaos of drug abuse in his life, Josh worked his way back into organized baseball, starting with a Devil Rays’ farm team. He was drafted by the Cincinnati Reds before the beginning of the 2007 season—his long-delayed rookie year in the majors. And what a season it was! With 19 home runs, he came in second to the Milwaukee Brewers’ rookie left fielder Ryan Braun for the honor of National League Rookie of the Year. In December 2007, the Reds traded Josh to the Texas Rangers. In 2008, he settled in as the Rangers’ starting center fielder and the third slot in the Rangers’ batting order.¹

So there I was at Fenway Park, with my son Thomas, on a Sunday afternoon in late April 2008, watching Josh Hamilton step up to the plate and face the fastballs—not just in a baseball game, but in the only game that matters, the game of life. Knowing his story as I did made it much more exciting to watch him on the field.

And as I sat there in the stands, I reflected on the fact that the theme of this book is really the theme of Josh Hamilton’s life. Here’s a guy who had it all—a mountain of money, incredible fame, the power to achieve any kind of future his heart desired. Yet he squandered it all on pleasure, the intense but soul-destroying thrill that comes from a hit of crack cocaine.

Most of Josh Hamilton’s $4 million signing bonus went to either drug dealers or drug rehab clinics. His fame turned to shame when the story of his downfall made national headlines. He traded the power to become a Hall of Famer for a humbling but healing experience of cleaning toilets and emptying trash at a baseball camp. The first seven years of his playing career literally went up in smoke—the smoke from a crack pipe.

But Josh is coming back strong. The experts say that his Mickey Mantle-type talent is still there. At 6′ 4″ and 250 pounds, now entering his late twenties, he’s still got the physical prowess to make a lasting impact on the game. Josh can hit a ball out of sight; he’s got great running speed and he’s one of the most naturally gifted players ever to come along. Given another decade or so to play, he could still have a Hall of Fame career.

Most important of all, Josh Hamilton has finally discovered what he is living for—and it’s not money, fame, power or pleasure. The Josh Hamilton story isn’t over, not by a long shot. He may still have a few rough innings ahead of him. I pray that he stays strong and never stumbles. One thing’s for sure: The Josh Hamilton I saw at Fenway Park looks like he’s got his whole life ahead of him—and it looks like a very good life.

What am I living for? I don’t know if Josh ever asked himself that question in those exact words. But I do know this: We can’t truly live whole, purposeful, effective lives until we ask ourselves that question. What am I living for? was the question that motivated him to rebuild his marriage and his career. It was the question that led him out of the darkness of addiction and into the sunshine of the life he now leads.

What about you? Are you investing your life in the things that matter most? Or are you living for money, fame, power and pleasure? Maybe it’s time you ask yourself: "What am I living for?"

PISTOL PETE

Josh Hamilton’s story reminds me of a basketball star I knew a number of years ago. His name: Pete Maravich.

I became personally acquainted with Pete during my brief stint as general manager of the Atlanta Hawks in 1973. Pistol Pete Maravich was the team’s crowd-pleasing guard—and the first NBA player to earn over $1 million a year. From our first handshake, I knew that Pete would be a handful. He was brash and cocky. While other NBA players had their last name on their jerseys, Pete’s jersey read Pistol. He loved that nickname.

The ’73 Atlanta Hawks roster was loaded with talent, and we should have easily made it to the playoffs that year. Instead, we racked up a dismal 35-47 record. Head coach Cotton Fitzsimmons hated losing. He tried every trick in the book to motivate his players. Nothing worked.

Before one game, he told his players, "We need to change the way we think about ourselves. So tonight, I want you to pretend you’re the greatest basketball team in the world. I want you to pretend you’re playing for the NBA championship. I want you to pretend that you’re out to extend a three-game winning streak. Now go play like winners!"

So Pete Maravich and the Hawks went out on the court—and got massacred by the Boston Celtics. At the end of the game, Coach Fitzsimmons stared up at the scoreboard, unable to comprehend the lopsided score. Maravich sauntered up, clapped the coach on the back and said, "Cheer up, Coach! Just pretend we won!"

Maravich was one of the greatest showmen in the NBA. He dazzled crowds with his behind-the-back dribble, through-the-legs pass and pinpoint shooting from way downtown. Pete put on a brilliant show, but he refused to play within Cotton’s system. We were a talent-laden team that couldn’t win games. One of my last official acts as general manager of the Hawks was to trade Pete Maravich to the expansion New Orleans Jazz. Years later, the Jazz moved to Utah and released Pete. He signed with the Boston Celtics, where he played alongside Larry Bird.

Pete retired in 1980, having never won a championship. He later admitted that he quit the game because of immaturity and ego. I didn’t need to quit, he said regretfully. My last game with the Celtics, I scored 38 points, and that night I quit. After Pete retired, the Celtics went on to win the NBA championship without him.

Pete became so bitter that he destroyed all of his career memorabilia and shut the game completely out of his life. He couldn’t even look at a basketball for the next two years. His personal life went to pieces. After his mother’s suicide, Pete tortured himself, wondering if he was somehow to blame. He turned for consolation to alcohol, drugs, astrology and Eastern religion. He drove his sports car down country roads at 140 miles an hour, hoping to kill himself.

What went wrong with his life? Money was certainly no problem. He had plenty of money stashed away from his playing days. And fame? He’d had all the fame and adulation anyone could want. It ultimately meant so little to him that he tossed it all away. Power? He’d been one of the most powerful and intimidating sports figures on the planet. And pleasure? With his wealth and fame, he could have had any wish granted with a snap of his fingers.

Yet here he was, miserable, bitter and wanting to die.

One night in November 1982, at about 5:40 in the morning, Pete cried out in the predawn darkness, Oh God, can You forgive me? If You don’t save me, nothing will save me. Come take over my life.

He later recalled that he didn’t feel changed after praying that prayer, but somehow he knew he was changed. Everyone who knew him was amazed at the difference in Pete’s life. All the anger, bitterness and arrogance were instantly replaced by a quiet humility. Moreover, it became obvious to everyone that Pete was living his life for a whole different reason.

In 1987, Pete was inducted into the Hall of Fame. Around that same time, Pete’s father, retired college and pro basketball coach Press Maravich, was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Pete was present during his father’s final hours. He leaned over and whispered in his father’s ear, Dad, I’ll be with you soon. Though Pete himself couldn’t explain why, he had a strange sense that his own time was short.

A few weeks later, Pete was in southern California to be interviewed by Dr. James Dobson on the Focus on the Family radio program. Dr. Dobson, a longtime fan, asked the former NBA star to play a pickup game with him at a church gym near the studio. They played for a little less than an hour, and Dr. Dobson was dazzled by Pete’s skills.

Pete, he said, you should come out of retirement! You’re too good to quit this game!

Actually, Pete said, this is the first time I’ve played in a long time. I’ve been having chest pains for the past year or so.

Oh? How are you feeling today?

Today? I feel great!

Those were Pete’s last words. In the next instant, he collapsed to the floor. Dr. Dobson rushed to his side and applied CPR while someone called 911—but Pete was already gone. An autopsy later disclosed a previously undetected heart defect—an unconnected left coronary artery. The coroner was astonished that Pete had survived a strenuous 10-year NBA career. He died on January 5, 1988, at age 40.

He had spent the first 35 years of his life chasing money, fame, power and pleasure. His chase had left him empty and bitter. One question haunted him: What am I living for? He had no answer for that question until the night he called out to God. After that night, Pete Maravich was a changed man. During the last five years of his life, Pete knew exactly what he was living for.

Life is uncertain and all too short. We have no way of knowing how many years—or seconds—are left to us. So it’s important that we invest our lives in the things that matter most. It’s important that we ask ourselves, What am I living for?

A LIFE THAT TRULY MATTERS

In August 2006, I was invited to speak in Lamesa, a West Texas cow-and-cotton town of about 10,000 people, located out on the wide-open spaces of the Llano Estacado. I was there to speak to a student gathering at Lamesa High School, and everyone I met was warm and gracious.

After my talk, a man pulled me aside and introduced himself. I’m Ray McCall, he said, and I coach here at the high school. We talked for a while about how young people desperately need parents, teachers and coaches to be mentors and role models in their lives. I signed a copy of my book Coaching Your Kids to Be Leaders for him.

A day or two later, after I returned home to Orlando, I was pleasantly surprised to receive an email from Coach McCall. He reflected on our conversation and closed with these profound words:

Some of the kids I coach tell me I can’t relate to what they’re going through in their lives because I’m an adult. It’s as if they don’t realize that I was actually their age once! I have vivid memories of my life in those days, and I can identify with their experiences more than they realize.

The other day, a thought hit me: Every kid who’s growing up is dying to live his life. When kids are little, they’re dying for Christmas morning to come so they can open their presents. As teenagers, they’re dying to turn 16 so they can start driving a car. Next they’re dying to be 18 so they can get out of the house and be free and independent. What are they really dying for? They’re dying to live!

But as people get older, things change. Instead of dying to live, they start living to die. They plan for their retirement age so they can stop working and go fishing or cruise the Caribbean and generally mark time until death catches up to them. They write wills and leave instructions about who gets what when they’re gone. Some even prepare themselves spiritually for the judgment day.

So here’s the question that’s always on my mind as I teach and coach and influence kids: What are you dying for? The writer of Ecclesiastes wrote, A good name is better than fine perfume, and the day of death better than the day of birth (Eccles. 7:1). In other words, what do you have at the end of your life? Nothing but the merit of your name.

In closing, Mr. Williams, I have a thought for you: What are you dying for?

After hearing you speak to our students, and after having the chance to talk to you, I think I know.

Wow! Those words from Coach McCall grabbed my mind and wouldn’t let go! What a powerful and crucial question he posed! It’s a question we all need to answer for ourselves: What am I living for—and what am I dying for? How can I live a life that truly matters? How can I leave a legacy that will live on after I’m gone?

FOUR FALSE REASONS FOR LIVING

As I rolled that question around in my mind, it occurred to me that most people on this planet really only have four reasons for living their lives. The life of almost every person in the world today is ruled by at least one of those four driving obsessions.

Reason 1: Fortune. For many people, money equals meaning in life. They see their lives as a competitive game, and their bank account is the scoreboard. The more their net worth grows, the farther ahead they are in the game of life. But what good does their money do them on the day they draw their final breath?

Reason 2: Fame. For many people, fame equals meaning in life. They derive their status and self-worth from being recognized and applauded. Fame doesn’t have to mean being on the cover of People magazine. For most of us, fame can simply mean recognition, having the people around us think, He’s a big wheel in the company, or, She’s a key leader in her church. A lot of people think their lives will be meaningful if everybody knows their name and envies their position in life. Some even feel that being infamous is just as good as being famous; they would just as soon be hated and despised as loved and admired.

Reason 3: Power. For some, power equals meaning in life. Some people are driven to attain power to control others, to control circumstances, to have total mastery over their own lives. This is often called the drive to be the alpha male, though there are many women today with an equal drive to be the alpha female. Many think that wielding power will give them meaning and satisfaction in life. But power is fleeting and never truly satisfies.

Reason 4: Pleasure. Many people think they can substitute pleasure for meaning in life. Pleasure is a lure that takes many forms: the lust for sex or fine food or luxury or entertainment. If it feels good, do it! If it tastes good, eat up! If you want it, buy it! You only go around once, so grab for the gusto! Pleasure can make us forget our problems and anxieties for a while, but pleasure can’t satisfy and fulfill us. In fact, those who are driven to seek pleasure often have the emptiest lives of all.

For each of these four driving obsessions, there is a corresponding philosophy of life. Many people around you, and perhaps you yourself, have been seduced by one or more of these four philosophical mindsets:

Materialism. This philosophy is used to rationalize the obsession with fortune—with the acquisition of money and possessions. According to the materialist philosophy, we live in a material world, and only material wealth can satisfy. To the materialist, our sense of worth is measured by the quality and quantity of our possessions. Piling up money and stuff is all that matters.

Humanism. This philosophy is often used to rationalize an obsession with fame, the exaltation of the self. Humanism, in a general sense, enshrines human reason and rationalism while denying belief in God and rejecting religion-based morality. In its extreme form, humanism says, Humanity is glorious! Be your own God! It teaches that we human beings are the captains of our own souls and suggests that the greater our fame and reputation, the more meaning and fulfillment we will experience.

Fatalism. People often adopt this philosophy to rationalize their obsession with power. Every human aspiration and all human events are destined to end in death and corruption. Ultimately, there is no meaning in life except the meaning you choose for yourself. So take charge of your life while you can. Seize as much power as you are able. This grim philosophy is the reason so many power-driven people often seem obsessed with dividing the world into winners and losers. Fatalists are determined to win at all costs, because they know that death, the ultimate defeat, will get them sooner or later.

Epicureanism. This philosophy, based on the teachings of Epicurus (340 B.C.–270 B.C.), is often used to rationalize living for sensual pleasure and luxury. Epicureans delight themselves in fine foods, drink, books, art, and sexual experiences. Epicurus taught that the greatest happiness in life comes from seeking pleasure and eliminating pain, so Epicureanism sometimes takes the form of a hedonistic, pleasure-obsessed lifestyle.

People often say, If I just had more money, fame, power and pleasure, I’d be happy. My life would be complete. There would be no more gaps or holes in my life. But then you look at the lives of the people who have it all, and they seem to be the most miserable people on Earth.

While this book was being written, former Playboy model Anna Nicole Smith killed herself with a toxic cocktail of prescription drugs. Actor Owen Wilson, riding the crest of Hollywood fame, power and wealth, narrowly survived a suicide attempt involving drugs and slashed wrists. Heiress Paris Hilton and actress Lindsay Lohan got in trouble multiple times for driving under the influence of alcohol, and with suspended licenses. Kiefer