Training the Heart: Choosing Principle Over Pragmatism
As the leaves turn and college football season reaches full stride, I’m struck by how much the game has changed. Consider Clemson’s rocky 1–3 start after finishing last year as the ACC’s division champions, and the murmurs about Head Coach Dabo Swinney’s future — headlines that reveal just how quickly fortunes can shift in today’s competitive landscape. Add to that the new world of Name, Image, and Likeness (NIL) rules, which now allow athletes to profit while still in school, and the game looks very different from what it once was.
These shifts in the culture of sports remind me of an old classic I watched a few years ago, one that offers a surprising parallel to the current scene. In 1953, John Wayne stepped out of the saddle and onto the football field in a film called Trouble Along the Way.¹ At first glance, it tells the story of sports and second chances, but beneath the surface, it unfolds as a parable of the heart. Wayne plays Steve Williams, a coach whose career has left him bruised and burdened, now fighting for custody of his daughter. When a small Catholic college, desperate to survive, recruits him to build a winning football team, the stakes are set: win, and the school has hope; lose, and its doors will close.
Williams is a pragmatist. His instincts tell him to cut corners, bend rules, and chase victory at any cost. But he soon finds himself at odds with Father Burke, the rector of the school, who stands firmly on principle. For Burke, winning is not worth the price of losing integrity. The collision between these two men paints a vivid picture of a timeless struggle: the temptation to choose what seems expedient over what is right.
The film reminds us of something critical: victory is never merely about the scoreboard. The real contest is waged in the hidden places — the conditioning of the heart, where choices are made long before the crowd is watching.
Training Defined: Pragmatism vs. Principle
Training, in any field, is never neutral. It is not only about the exercises performed or the drills repeated; it is about what those disciplines are shaping within us. Williams, in Trouble Along the Way, was training his players toward a pragmatic end — victory on the field, survival for the school, custody of his daughter. Yet Father Burke reminded him that training without principle leaves men hollow, prepared perhaps to win games but unprepared for life.
Training, in any field, is never neutral. It is not only about the exercises performed or the drills repeated; it is about what those disciplines are shaping within us.
So it is with us. Pragmatism whispers, “Do whatever works. Bend the truth if you must. Cut the corner. Chase the result.” Principle, on the other hand, calls us to the harder path — obedience to God’s Word, even when the outcome is uncertain. Scripture does not tell us to train for success as the world defines it, but for Godliness. As Paul charged young Timothy: “Train yourself for Godliness, for while bodily training is of some value, Godliness is of value in every way, as it holds promise for the present life and also for the life to come” (1 Timothy 4:7–8).²
To train in Godliness is to condition the heart to trust. It is to believe that faithfulness is greater than expedience, that integrity outlasts achievement, and that true victory is not earned on the day of competition but forged in the daily obedience of unseen hours.
Conditioning the Heart
Training sets the direction, but conditioning determines endurance. Any athlete can push through a practice, but only the conditioned can persevere when fatigue, pain, and pressure converge. In Trouble Along the Way, Williams knew how to drill plays and shout orders, but it was Father Burke who understood that the young men needed something deeper than muscle memory. They needed moral memory — the conditioning of conscience. Without it, even the most disciplined athlete will crumble when temptation presses in.
Photo Credit: Hermes Rivera, Unsplash.
The heart, much like the body, does not rise to the occasion of challenge; it falls to the level of its conditioning. Pragmatism conditions us to react, to seize what appears expedient in the moment. But principle conditions us to obey, even when obedience feels costly. One scene captures this tension: Williams considers recruiting athletes through dishonest means, padding the roster with men who don’t belong. The easy road beckons. But Burke reminds him that hollow victories are no victories at all. “What will you have gained,” the priest essentially asks, “if you win the game but lose your soul?”
So, too, in the Christian life. God’s Spirit uses Scripture, prayer, worship, and fellowship to condition us — not simply to know the truth, but to reflexively live it. When trials come, when the cultural winds shift, when the cost of obedience feels sharp, a conditioned heart does not scramble for footing. It stands. For it has been shaped in hidden hours of trust, when no one but the Father was watching.
Daily Disciplines: Repetition Builds Reflex
Conditioning is never glamorous. It is the grind of repetition, the steady drumbeat of habits that appear small but carry immense weight. An athlete does not become strong by attending one practice; strength is born in countless laps, pushups, and drills repeated when no crowd is cheering. The same is true of the heart.
In the movie, Williams knows the value of repetition on the field — running the same play until it becomes second nature. Yet the deeper lesson comes from Father Burke, who understands that the soul also requires drills. It is not enough to know what is right; one must practice righteousness until it becomes reflex. When temptation or trial strikes, the untrained heart hesitates. But the conditioned heart, shaped by repetition, responds in obedience without pause.
This is why the daily disciplines of faith matter. Prayer, Scripture reading, worship, confession, acts of service — these are not spiritual busywork but the steady conditioning of the inner life. At StoneBridge, our rhythms of chapel, classroom virtues, discipline policies, and even the way we begin each day are meant to form more than knowledge. They are training grounds where hearts are conditioned, reflexes are shaped, and students learn to choose truth instinctively.
At StoneBridge, our rhythms of chapel, classroom virtues, discipline policies, and even the way we begin each day are meant to form more than knowledge. They are training grounds where hearts are conditioned, reflexes are shaped, and students learn to choose truth instinctively.
For in the end, we are not preparing children merely for tests and trophies but for life itself. And life demands a reflex of faith, a heart so rehearsed in trust that obedience flows naturally, even in moments of great cost.
The Role of Guides and Coaches
In the movie, Father Burke serves as a steady voice of principle — a reminder that even the best plays are hollow if integrity is lost. That picture, while helpful, ultimately points us toward a greater reality: none of us is meant to face the climb of faith alone. God, in His wisdom, provides guides for the journey.
Every believer needs coaches for the soul. These are the parents who quietly insist on family devotions when the world presses for busyness. These are the teachers who hold the line on truth in the classroom, even when culture suggests an easier way. These are the pastors and mentors who remind us that obedience matters more than expedience. Their correction, encouragement, and example help condition our hearts when we are tempted by shortcuts.
At StoneBridge, we see this role lived out daily: In the way a teacher patiently insists on honesty, even in small assignments. In the way chapel services draw us back, week after week, to the centrality of Christ. In the way discipline is carried out — not as punishment, but as formation for life. These are the rhythms that shape instinct and building a reflex of trust and obedience.
Guides matter because conditioning the heart is never a solitary endeavor. Just as an athlete needs the firm hand of a coach, so, too, do we need the steady influence of those who keep us aligned with principle when pragmatism whispers otherwise.
The Cost and Reward of Principle
Standing on principle always costs something. For the pragmatist, the question is simple: Does it work? But for the Christian, the question is deeper: Is it faithful? And faithfulness often exacts a price. To tell the truth may cost a reputation. To uphold purity may cost friendships. To hold to conviction may cost opportunity. Jesus Himself warned His disciples that the narrow road would be marked with difficulty, not applause.³
Yet the reward is infinitely greater. James writes, “Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial because, having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him” (James 1:12).⁴ True victory is not measured in worldly success but in obedience to Christ. The scoreboard of eternity looks very different from the applause of men.
Photo Credit: Tobias Rademacher, Unsplash
This is why our training matters. At StoneBridge, we do not measure success only by grades, trophies, or accolades — as worthy as those may be. We measure it by hearts that are learning to stand on principle, even when it costs. When a student chooses honesty over an easy shortcut, that is victory. When a young person resists the pressure to compromise and instead holds fast to biblical truth, that is endurance. When families choose to align their homes with God’s Word, that is triumph in the hidden places where character is formed.
The world may not always recognize these victories, but heaven does. And heaven’s reward far outweighs the fleeting approval of men.
Application to the StoneBridge Community
If conditioning the heart is the true measure of victory, then the work before us belongs not only to individuals but to an entire community. StoneBridge is more than a school; it is a training ground where parents, teachers, and students enter into a shared covenant. Together, we are learning that success is not found in pragmatism — in chasing what is easiest, fastest, or most applauded — but in principle, in aligning every choice with God’s Word.
For parents, this training begins in the home. Bedtime prayers, shared meals, and family worship are not trivial rituals; they are daily drills of the heart. They teach children that trust in the Lord matters more than the shifting standards of the world.
For faculty and staff, the classroom and chapel are more than academic or programmatic spaces. They are arenas where students watch adults live out conviction — where patience, integrity, and faithfulness are displayed not only in lessons but in lives. When a teacher disciplines with firmness and grace, when a coach insists on character over cutting corners, when administrators model faith under pressure — these are the lessons that will endure.
For students, the invitation is clear: you are not here merely to succeed, but to be formed. Every assignment, every team practice, every chapel service is an opportunity to condition the heart for the summit climb of faith. The true test is not whether you win the trophy or ace the exam, but whether, when pressed, you reflexively choose Christ.
The invitation is clear: you are not here merely to succeed, but to be formed. Every assignment, every team practice, every chapel service is an opportunity to condition the heart for the summit climb of faith. The true test is not whether you win the trophy or ace the exam, but whether, when pressed, you reflexively choose Christ.
This is why the consent of our community matters so deeply. We stand together, parents and school united, to condition hearts for Godliness. In such unity, the next generation will rise not only as achievers but as disciples — resilient, principled, and forged for the climb.
Closing Exhortation
In the end, Trouble Along the Way offers a faint echo of the greater truth: victories built on expedience quickly fade, but victories forged in principle endure. The same is true for us. The race of faith is not won in a single moment of glory but in the daily conditioning of the heart — in unseen hours of prayer, in hidden acts of trust, in quiet decisions to obey when compromise would be easier.
When the day of testing comes, our hearts will not suddenly rise to the occasion; they will reveal what they have been trained to love. May it be Christ.
StoneBridge, let us be a community marked by such conditioning. Parents, continue the drills of faith in your homes. Teachers and staff, model the principled life before watching eyes. Students, embrace the training, for the summit is ahead. And let us remember: true victory is never “winning at all costs,” but obeying Christ at every cost.
For the summit belongs not to the pragmatic, but to the principled — to those forged for the climb.
