“Real courage is when you know you're licked before you begin, but you begin anyway and see it through no matter what.”
― Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird
JEREMIAH 49-50
JOURNAL
Looking back, I realize I was beginning to learn what Nick Saban teaches about focusing on the next six seconds. I couldn’t take back the interceptions or undo the sacks. I couldn’t guarantee that we would win or even that the next play would go well. But I could get up, walk back onto the field, and give my best to the next play. I didn’t have to figure out how to survive the entire second half while sitting in that locker room. I needed to do what the next moment required.
So I decided to stand up and give my best. The hits still came, and so did another interception. But something valuable shifted. I began to understand that my effort didn’t have to depend on the score or how I felt about my chances. Each snap gave me another opportunity to pay attention, make a decision, and do my job. Then, whatever happened, I had to come back and do it again.
That lesson has stayed with me, although I am still learning how to live it. How often do I make the present harder by carrying everything that has already happened into it? How often do I waste the opportunity in front of me because I am trying to predict how everything will turn out? Regret pulls me backward, and fear pulls me forward. Meanwhile, the moment where I can actually do something passes by.
The next six seconds gives me something concrete to return to. What needs my attention right now? What would giving my best look like in this conversation, this task, this problem? Sometimes it means doing something difficult. Sometimes it means listening or being patient with a student, or finishing something I would rather avoid. I can bring curiosity, effort, discipline, and love to those moments without knowing where they will lead. When my attention wanders back to yesterday or ahead to the outcome, I can bring it back again.
Reading Hebrews, I am struck by Jesus’ prayers, tears, and ultimate submission. He understood the weight of what was ahead. In Gethsemane, he asked for the cup to pass, yet surrendered himself to the Father’s will. His obedience was lived through real anguish. That makes his example deeply personal to me. He understands the dread of facing something painful, and he shows me how to remain faithful in the middle of it.
I don’t read this as a demand to suffer enough or perform well enough to earn God’s love. Jesus has already made the way. I see an invitation to trust him with what I cannot see and obey him in what is before me. Difficulty can become a place where I learn that trust, where I discover that I can be afraid and still take the next faithful step.
That is what I was beginning to learn in that locker room. I wanted reassurance that things would get better before I went back out. What I had was an opportunity to stand up and give what I could. I have that same opportunity today. I can learn from what has happened, prepare for what may come, and then give my attention to the life God has placed in front of me. The next six seconds is where I get to practice trusting him with the outcome.