When I was in seminary, I worked as a Student-Athlete Tutor for the athletic department. I tutored religion and history, and because of the Christian heritage and liberal arts nature of the university, everyone was required to take a religion and history class. I won’t name drop, but I got to know a lot of high-level athletes, tutoring persons who made it to MLB and the NFL. I also got an up-close and personal look at how the NCAA regulates major college athletics.
There were certain things I could and could not do as their tutor. Different things were deemed “improper benefits” and would incur a sanction or a fine. Here are a couple I remember: If an athlete showed up to a session without a pencil, I could not loan them one without it being a violation. This happened more than a few times. I could suggest an athlete write something, but if I put my fingers on their computer’s keyboard it was a violation.
If you want an example of what a little-l law looks like, look no further than the NCAA rules and regulations, which govern an athlete’s ability to stay in good standing. If they want to be able to play their sport (achieve righteousness), the athletes (and staff) have to follow all the rules. If they don’t, there can be dire consequences (or not). The rules might ensure salvation — I mean eligibility — but that does not mean they create a will to do said rules. I can’t tell you the number of times I saw the rules being skirted (and no one self-reported).
Last week the NCAA changed one of its rules, one of its most important laws; now any athlete at an NCAA institution can profit off of their Name, Image, and Likeness (NIL). For the longest time, athletes at these institutions could not make money doing advertisements, signing autographs, or putting on camps for kids. If they did and were caught, they’d be ruled ineligible and be unable to play. Now, they can.
Of course, just because it’s legal now, doesn’t mean it wasn’t going on before. I’ve seen athletes getting sponsorships from chicken fast-food joints, signing autographs for a fee, and promoting paid one-on-one tutorials over Zoom. They are able to profit off themselves just like you or me — albeit in a significantly more prosperous way (I’m not a visible college athlete.) There is real money to be made.
Heralded as a triumph for college athletes for some and the doom of college athletics in general by others, the law was nullified, overturned, abolished. There is more freedom. There is more equity. There is more justice.
But it’s also the age-old promise of antinomianism: getting rid of the Law. Without the Law there is perfect freedom — no one is bound to do anything they don’t want to. The Law is bad because it makes people feel bad about themselves, lowering their self-esteem, and preventing them from happiness. It’s better to just get rid of it because then one (always read “I”) doesn’t have to worry.
Antinomianism sounds great! Who doesn’t want to get rid of that nagging voice in the back of their mind saying they don’t measure up? Who doesn’t want to feel better about themself and what they do (or don’t do?) Who doesn’t want happiness to be their status quo? Getting rid of the Law (or little-l laws) always sounds desirable.
The problem is antinomianism is folly. The Law cannot be removed, thrown away, or eradicated. It simply transforms into something else. Gerhard Forde said, “The problem with antinomianism is that it just does not work.” It doesn’t work because the Law will always chase us, always hound us, always accuse us. Because of Sin, we are never free from the demands.
Now that the NCAA can’t punish athletes for making money off their NIL, the Law now operates on those athletes at a different level. No longer is it, “Don’t do this, or else!” but, “Do this, or else!” Athletes are now pressured into doing more and more. It’s more than just doing a few commercials or autograph sessions on top of the classes, practices, weight sessions, and all the other minutiae of their days. Now they need to “build their brand” so they are more desirable to companies that might sponsor them.
Even though it was the right thing to do (why shouldn’t NCAA athletes profit off themselves, as anyone else can?), getting rid of the NCAA’s NIL regulations just substituted one law for another. It didn’t free the athletes. It may have actually increased their burden, adding just another thing to the list of demands in their day-to-day lives. The Law is like a dandelion weed in your lawn. Cut it down with a lawn mover and ten more weeds quickly sprout up.
Antinomianism promises a freedom it can never deliver. If you negate the command, “Thou shalt not,” all that’s left is an equally oppressive “Thou shalt.” Prohibition that becomes license becomes yet another expectation. The end of the Law only comes when it is fulfilled, something we can’t do, this side of death (see Rom 6:23). Of course, we still experience the demand of the Law this side of the resurrection, but at least it’s not our true end.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad college athletes can now make some extra money on the side. Perhaps now they can finally afford to buy their own dang pencils for their tutoring sessions.
Above graphic via ADU.
