Walk by Faith
Isaiah Austin and Tom Hager
In partnership with Athletes For God
As I opened that door to my Aunt Evelyn's house in June of 2014, it was hard to imagine life could get any better.
I was five days away from the NBA Draft, and waiting inside that house were all my closest friends and family. In five days, my life was going to change. Fame and financial security were just around the corner, and now I was going to celebrate with the people who helped get me there.
Once I opened that door, however, I realized I wouldn't need to wait five days for my life to change. I could see the look on everyone's faces, and when my mom uttered the words “I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” I knew I wasn't attending a party to celebrate my dreams coming true.
I was attending the funeral of my own NBA career.
When my mom repeated those two words over and over, I didn't have to question what she was talking about. I instantly knew. A few days before that, the NBA doctors had done some precautionary tests before the draft, and the test for Marfan Syndrome came up as a red flag. The additional tests had come back, and the news was devastating. I tested positive for this genetic disorder, where the arteries in my heart were too large. If I continued playing, doctors said, I could risk rupturing my arteries.
This dream, which was 20 years in the making, was over just like that. And I didn't know how to handle it.
My legs began to feel weak and I could feel every ounce of joy escape my body. I knew there were more than a dozen people in the room to help me process the news, but all I could see was my mom. It was just like tunnel vision, and my instincts just brought me straight to her.
As bad as I felt for myself, I also sympathized with my mom. She would do anything for me, but when your son has Marfan Syndrome, it's out of even the best mother's control.
And that's when I remembered who was really in control of the situation. God. That's when I went to the bathroom to regather myself.
As I splashed the water on my face, I looked deep inside my soul. You have a baby brother and a baby sister, I told myself, and they can't see you crying like this. This is the worst moment of your life to this point, and when you open that door, everyone is going to see how you will handle it.
That's when my brother and sister showed what family and love really look like.
As I made my way to the stairs and sat on one of the steps, my brother and sister came over and put their hands on me, as if they were praying. In that moment I didn't have to fake a smile, because a real one started to show up.
I wiped off all the tears on my face, but as turbulent as that night had been, the tears were only flowing out of one eye.
You see, for the last seven years, I have had a prosthetic in my right eye. The adversity I faced that night in the house was nothing I hadn't seen before.
If you were to look at my arms, you would see a tattoo that says “We walk by faith, not by sight.” It's a verse from 2 Corinthians 5:7, but it's also the motto for my life.
When you can only see out of one eye, it almost has to be.
I wasn't always blind in my right eye – that didn't happen until I was hit with a baseball at 11 years old. First base wasn't my normal position, but on this particular day I was there at the bag, trying to keep a runner from stealing second.
The problem was that I didn't understand all the rules of the game at that point, and when the pitcher tried to pick the runner off, I was completely unprepared for the throw. And before I could put my glove in position to catch the ball, it struck me in the eye.
That began a four year fight to save my vision in that eye. A fight I ultimately lost.
We tried to save the retina, which had become detached, but it was no use. In 2009, as a sophomore in high school, my eye was taken out, and just like that I was blind in one eye.
Man, it was really weird. Just waking up one day and being able to see one side of the room. That's something people really take for granted. I had absolutely no depth perception...I couldn't even pour water into glass unless I held the glass right against the faucet so I could feel it. To this day, I still have no depth perception.
And yet, somehow, I shoot baskets for a living. The only way to explain that, really, is God.
Back then, as a high school player, I knew I had to adjust my game if I was going to earn a college scholarship. I relied on muscle memory as I learned how to shoot again, and by the time I was graduating from high school, I was one of the top recruits in the country.
I grew up in Texas, so I decided to head over to nearby Waco and play for the Baylor Bears. I was pretty good as a freshman, but decided to come back for my sophomore season. After putting up impressive numbers for the second straight year, I knew it was time. I was declaring for the NBA Draft.
In the weeks before the big day, my stock seemed to be rising. Teams were conducting workouts with me, and as word spread that I was thriving in the drills, more teams wanted last minute tryouts. The question wasn't whether or not I would get drafted, but rather which team was going to draft me and how big that first paycheck would be.
That's when I opened that door to my Aunt’s house, and things were never the same. One of my favorite sayings, however, is that God's plan is the ultimate plan, and within a few days I was on the phone with NBA Commissioner Adam Silver. I wasn't going to be playing in the NBA, but on draft night my name was still going to get called.
A lot of people who are reading this might remember what happened next. I was invited to New York City for the big day, and halfway through the first round, Mr. Silver stepped up to the podium.
“With the next pick in the NBA Draft, the NBA selects Isaiah Austin.”
I wiped the tears off my eyes yet again, hugged my mom and dad, and walked over to that stage to shake the commissioner's hand. Minutes later I was on national television doing an interview with ESPN, where I was given the platform to honor God for what had just transpired.
But what people don't realize was that behind closed doors I was still going through my own personal turmoil.
When I was walking around the city in the days leading up to the draft, I was hanging out with all these guys who were actually going to live out their dream. Everybody was talking about how excited they were, and I was just there to be there. I had put in the same work that these guys had – I had put in the same late night film sessions, early morning workouts, and sprints up and down the court – but they were about to live out their dream and I was not.
That's when God gave me a new dream, a different dream...inspiring people. Every time I would open up my Instagram page, I would see people commenting on there how much I meant to them how much strength I had. They didn't know I was really struggling, but when enough people start to think you're strong, you start to believe it yourself.
The funny thing is, God knows that we're so much stronger than we ever give ourselves credit for. That's why He puts us way out of our comfort zone, knowing that in enough time we can turn the situation into an opportunity to glorify Him. It's just that his method isn't always easy. God is like that workout partner who let's you writhe on the bench press, feeling like you can't do anymore lifting on your own, and telling you that you can do it.
I feel like everyone who has gone through adversity or devastation has had their faith tested, and I was no different. You're going to have questions, you're going to have trials, but at the end of the day you've got to really sit down and evaluate your life. I have this many blessings and this many devastations, and my blessings cover those devastations. At the end of the day I really do believe in God's plan for me, and I really do believe faith has brought me this far in my life.
When I would pray to God during that time, I prayed for happiness and peace of mind. Before my diagnosis, my thoughts were about basketball, and I've learned to never let basketball define me as a person. I don't want to be remembered as a great basketball player. I want to be remembered as a great person.
As I continued to walk down the Lord's path and redefine myself, God granted me a miracle. In late 2016, my doctors looked at my symptoms, and cleared me to play. I was going to play basketball again. It was going to be overseas, but I was once again a professional basketball player. My mom was the one who broke the news to me that I couldn't play in the NBA, and now I was the one who got to break the news to her that I was going to play basketball again.
That is, if I could actually play the game. After all, it had been 2.5 years since I had played in an arena with real fans. It was a huge gamble, because I was going to uproot my life and move to Serbia to chase after a dream. Still, I felt like this was what I needed to do, so off to Serbia I went.
When my doctors told me the news that I was cleared to play basketball, I remember breaking down into tears. I know a lot of times people feel like their prayers aren't being heard, but you just have to be patient. God hears every prayer that we make, and if we just have a lot of faith in Him and trust whole-heartedly, He's always going to come through.
Since my prayers were for happiness and peace of mind, God must have decided that basketball indeed made me happy. When I put on that jersey again for the first time, it was unforgettable. I only played eight minutes in my first game back, but it was the best eight minutes of my career. I needed that.
I now play in China, and God has been so good to me. So have the fans. Honestly, I'm loved as much by the fans here – 8,000 miles away from home – as I was in America. I tried to pay the fans back with some good games, and I was fortunate enough to average 35 points a game for the Guangxi Rhinos.
If you were to take a look at me now, I'm a completely different player than the one that teams saw during my tryouts in 2014. I now play small forward and power forward, meaning I'm a 7'1 one player who shoots mid-range jumpshots. Still with one eye.
There's one more thing that's completely different now than four years ago. I'm a Dad!
At first, my girlfriend and I were scared with some pregnancy complications, but God gave us one of the healthiest babies ever. He looks just like me, and one of the cool things is that every day as he gets older, I discover new ways he reminds me of my younger self. His mannerisms, the way he walks, it's like a little flashback.
He also makes me a better man.
There are times where I honestly don't feel like doing anything that day, but when you have a little kid who looks up to you, you have no choice but to work your hardest. When I'm out there on the court, I'm playing for God and for him.
At the end of the day, I wouldn't trade my path for anything. I don't resent losing my right eye, and I don't resent Marfan Syndrome. My response to both gave people hope, and it gave me the platform to live out John 4:8, which says “For those who do not love do not know the Lord, for God is Love.” I hope that people can tell I love. I love the game of basketball, I love my fans, I love my parents and my girlfriend, and now for a little more than a year, I have gotten to love my son.
And based on everything that has happened in my life, it's pretty apparent God loves me too.
Images courtesy of Baylor University Athletics