The Idol of Playing Time: What Happens When You’re Benched?

There’s a particular kind of silence that follows being told you’re not starting. It doesn’t matter how old you are, how talented you are, or how hard you’ve worked—those words hit in a place deeper than your stats. And if we’re being honest, for a lot of athletes, that silence quickly turns into something louder in your spirit: shame, frustration, doubt, or even anger.

I’ve seen it happen again and again—athletes who go from confident to crushed because they didn’t make the lineup. And I get it. I’ve been there myself. When you’ve poured everything you have into your training, when you’ve done all the right things, and when you truly believe you’ve earned that spot… being benched can feel personal. Sometimes it is. Sometimes it’s not. But either way, it stings.

One of the most brutal truths to swallow as a Christian athlete is this: playing time can become an idol. It sounds strange at first because it doesn’t look like idolatry. You’re not bowing to a golden calf or walking away from your faith. You’re just heartbroken. You’re just ticked off. You’re just wondering why someone else is getting what you feel you’ve earned. But that’s precisely where the danger lies—when our desire to compete shifts into something that starts to define our worth.

If your identity is built on how many minutes you’re getting, how many kills you rack up, or how often your name shows up in the rotation, then you’ve built your foundation on something that can—and will—shift.

I’ve seen players spiral because their role didn’t match their expectations. I’ve also seen players rise—not in status, but in character—because they chose to root their identity in something deeper than a stat line. That kind of strength doesn’t come from willpower. It comes from surrender.

Here’s the reality: sometimes your role will be smaller than your talent. That can feel unfair. It can feel like punishment. But sometimes, it’s God doing something greater in you than He can do through you right now. That’s not just coach-speak. It’s something I’ve lived and had to wrestle with myself.

The bench has a way of bringing the real stuff to the surface. Pride. Entitlement. Comparison. And sometimes, deep down, a belief that we’re owed something from God for all the ways we’ve been “faithful.” But God doesn’t reward hustle with starting spots. He’s after your heart more than your highlight reel.

I love the way 1 Peter 5:6 reminds us, “Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that He may lift you up in due time.” That “due time” may not be this weekend. It may not even be this season. But He sees you. He knows what you’re capable of. And He hasn’t forgotten you just because you didn’t get subbed in during set two.

The real question is this: Will you still lead from the sidelines? Will you still celebrate your teammates? Will you still pursue excellence when no one’s watching? Will you still serve when you’re not the one being recognized?

Your character in those moments matters more than you think.

Some of the best leaders I’ve ever coached weren’t the ones with the most court time. They were the ones who learned how to show up anyway. They stayed ready. They encouraged others. They trained just as hard, even when their name wasn’t on the board. And when their moment finally came, they were ready—because they never checked out.

If you’re benched right now, I want you to hear this: it’s not the end of your story. It doesn’t mean you’re not good enough, and it doesn’t mean God has left you out. It just means there’s a different assignment in your life this season. That role might not be loud or flashy, but it might just be the one that shapes you the most.

Don’t let a lack of playing time convince you that your role isn’t important. Don’t let disappointment rob you of the growth that can happen when your ego takes a back seat. And don’t let the scoreboard determine your sense of value.

Your calling isn’t canceled because you’re not in the starting six. Your impact isn’t limited to your position. And your faith isn’t meant to only show up when you’re winning.

The bench isn’t a punishment. Sometimes, it’s the proving ground.