As I drove to the racquetball tournament on Sunday listening to war coverage on the radio, it occurred to me that it was more than a little ridiculous for me to be rassling with my mental demons for a stupid friggin’ racquetball game. What if I was going into a real battle in an Iraqi desert instead? Of course, my body doesn’t know the difference. It just reacts to whatever fight or flight messages it gets from my brain.
I flashed back to the Tom Hanks character in the movie Saving Private Ryan, struggling to control his hand twitching as his boat approached Omaha Beach on D-Day.
My model of relaxed concentration was the sharpshooter character named Daniel Boone Jackson who would quietly whisper Psalm 144 to steady himself as he picked off German soldiers. “Blessed be the Lord my strength, which teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight.”
If I was on the frontlines, I’d need a prayer or a mantra like that. I’m grateful I don’t have to find out if I could pull it off.