Are we forgetting that sports stars are human?

“There is no place for weak men in my dressing room.” That was England captain Ben Stokes’s frustrated verdict after another crushing defeat to Australia in the second Test.

Like many England cricket fans, I’m disillusioned with their performances in Australia this winter. Waking early and checking the score has produced an involuntary groan each time - much to the annoyance of my sleeping wife. Since the Brisbane defeat, the pile-on has been relentless, with every pundit, podcaster and pontificator finding fault in everything from technique and preparation to supposed attitudes and motivations.

Stokes and his coach Brendon McCullum have sought to then deflect all criticism levelled at them, seemingly continuing to outwork their plan despite all evidence pointing to its frailty.

Our culture idolises strength.

We celebrate the athlete who plays through injury. We criticise those who admit they need rest. We push back when players speak honestly about mental strain. Those who respond poorly to criticism are labelled fragile. Those who fall short of our expectations are accused of not caring.

In all this, we forget the humanity - with all the frailty and limits that implies - of those we idolise. We forget that the people we comment on so casually are fellow image-bearers.

Consider the reaction to England taking a short mid-tour break. Some commentators (often former players who themselves struggled to win in Australia) insisted that a few days on the beach showed a lack of commitment. It took Australian players pointing out their own mid-series breaks to restore perspective and remind us that rest is not indulgence but a necessity.

Elite sportspeople are human. They need sleep, rest and space to decompress after weeks of scrutiny and pressure. Yet we often treat them as something more: superhuman, godlike figures who should never falter.

What does the Bible say?

Scripture challenges this entirely. The Bible does not call us to project strength, but to recognise our weakness. Paul even says he delights in weakness, because it is there that the power of Christ rests upon him.

And Christmas reminds us of an even more staggering truth: the eternal, all-powerful Creator chose weakness.

God the Son “made himself nothing… being made in human likeness” (Philippians 2v7).

When the Creator stepped into His creation, He didn’t come as a fully formed adult ready to get to work. He came as a baby - the most vulnerable form of human life. In first-century Palestine, without modern medicine or safety nets, that fragility was even more pronounced.

For a culture obsessed with strength, this is good news. We do not need to pretend. We can admit when we’ve got things wrong. We can acknowledge fear, tiredness and limitation - because God meets us not in our impressiveness, but in our weakness.

If this England team admitted to feeling overwhelmed, exhausted or afraid - which, given the tour, is almost certainly true - our culture would likely condemn them as weak. But that is what they are. And it is what we are.

And admitting our limitations is the beginning of change. I don’t know what it would really look like for sportspeople to live with such security and safety that they could admit this and not be criticised or dropped. For England, that may mean honest internal conversations and fresh solutions. For all of us, it means recognising the reality of our weakness so that we might seek the help we truly need, ultimately found in Jesus.

The good news of Christianity is that it is a faith for the weak.

Christ came for the weary, the burdened, the struggling and the spent. It’s okay to admit it.