On August 27, 1982, my life changed forever.
I had a horrible car accident that day. Just before my senior football season where I lost the first six weeks of the year because I fell asleep driving at the wheel, the car ended up in a ditch, and I ultimately, because of that car accident, missed a crucial part of my season.
Sitting on the sidelines and watching my teammates shine felt impossibly hard. I was happy for them, but with every missed game, any interest in a running back named Tim Scott faded, and my star began to dim.
I could feel it, taste it. Football was my way out, my way up. I’d spent years working for this. I saw the moment I bought my mother a house. I envisioned myself as the local hometown hero turned pro. Suddenly, all of it was slipping away through my hands.
I thought my life was over because football was my life and Jesus was just a game. But I realized I had it inverted, that actually, Jesus was my life, and football was just a game.
I was on a football scholarship, a very small football scholarship, at Presbyterian College. I was at a Fellowship of Christian Athletes meeting when I realized my love for Christ.
As a kid raised in poverty, as I've said before, in a single-parent household, I always wanted a father's acceptance. I always wanted to be defined by my family lineage. And what I found in my faith was I was adopted into the Family. If I wanted to know more about my Abba Father, I could read His good book called the Bible, and I could discover all that He said about me. But more importantly, all that He said about himself and all that He is.
That brutal car accident took away the thing that I thought most defined me, the thing I most loved. But instead, it opened my eyes to what is truly important, a deeper connection with our Heavenly Father.
My life was changed forever 41 years ago. Now I find myself on another life-altering journey, running for president. Again, I lean on my faith and relationship with God.
If you feel inclined to make a donation to my campaign, I would be so grateful.
God Bless y’all,
Tim Scott
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