Pull Your Pants Up

My son and I run a weekly basketball program for at-risk youth called the Living H2O Initiative. The name comes from the passage in John 4 where Jesus encounters a promiscuous woman at a well and, after first asking her for a drink, offers her some “living water.” Jesus assures the woman that drinking such eternal water – referring to Himself – will forever quench her spiritual thirst.

Well, our program is now in its 11th year and continues to draw 25 to 45 young men every week. Most of them are minorities and quite a few of them come from broken homes and fatherless families. And so, in addition to sharing the gospel, we try to provide them with positive male role models in a safe, wholesome, and non-threatening environment.

To maintain proper order, my son and I have implemented a few basic rules. Since the gym where we meet is owned by a local church, we have a zero tolerance policy when it comes to profanity. “After all,” we tell them, “This gym is as much God’s house as the sanctuary across the driveway.”

We also post a sign that warns prospective players that anyone smelling of pot or alcohol will not be admitted. But our most important rule is that everyone must stay for the halftime Bible lesson.

There is one other rule that, as an aging Baby Boomer who is "old school" in virtually every way, I insist all of our participants follow. Simply put, they must wear their shorts at the proper level. I don’t need to see their underwear – or worse yet, their bare butt – and so, you will hear me instruct them to “pull your pants up” from time to time.

Personally, I think wearing pants properly is a sign of respect… both for the person wearing them and for the people around them. It’s not exactly “dressing for success,” but close to it.

I remember when Bill Cosby was still a national icon before his stunning fall from grace. One of the stories he used to tell was about a young man who showed up for a job interview with his pants below his butt and speaking in Ebonics. When the young man failed to get the job, he blamed it on racism, but Cosby stopped him dead in his tracks. A rough paraphrase of his advice to the young jobseeker was to stop playing the race card and to look in the mirror instead.

I use this story – and my Living H2O Initiative illustration – to make a broader point. Today, we live in an age where everyone seems to be looking for excuses. Whether it was being born into poverty, a less-than-ideal upbringing, or some other hardship, far too many people take the easy way out by blaming their circumstances instead of trying to overcome them. Sadly, they see themselves as helpless victims who must rely on government handouts and the generosity of others to survive, rather than forging their own bold and brave path in life.

Personal responsibility gives way to victimhood… untapped human potential is squandered... and priceless opportunities are sacrificed at the altar of public dependency.

To those folks who need a helping hand, here I am. In fact, that’s exactly what I’ve been doing for the past 36 years as a prison minister who also works closely with at-risk youth, trying to reach them with the gospel before they get into trouble with the law. However, for those who refuse to grasp onto an outstretched (and temporary) hand-up, preferring instead a permanent hand-out, I say, “Pull your pants up.”

That’s exactly what Dr. Ben Carson did. Born into poverty and raised in the Detroit projects by a single mother, Carson struggled academically, earning the nickname “Dummy” at school. Undaunted, he decided to apply himself and prove his critics wrong. Taking advantage of every possible educational opportunity, Carson eventually graduated third in his high school class and received a full scholarship to Yale University. From there, Carson enrolled in the University of Michigan Medical School, earning an M.D. degree in 1977, before being accepted into the Johns Hopkins University Medical School’s pediatric neurosurgery program.

The rest of Dr. Carson’s story is well-known to most Americans. As director of pediatric neurosurgery at Johns Hopkins, Carson led a 70-person medical team that successfully separated cojoined twins in 1987. Carson retired as a surgeon in 2013 and ran unsuccessfully for President of the United States in 2016, after which he served four years as President Trump’s Secretary of Housing and Urban Development.

I’m sure glad that Dr. Carson pulled his pants up when he did… and so are the countless pediatric patients that God used him to heal.