Hulk Hogan Made Me Cry
- Steve Curtis, PhD
- 7 days ago
- 4 min read
On July 24th, the famous wrestler, known for ripping his shirts and calling everyone “brother,” died of a complication from a “medical event,” most likely cardiac arrest. I was driving when I heard the news and, even though I was never really a fan, I am acutely aware these days of eternity, judgment, and grace. Whenever I hear that anyone died, I am inclined to scour obituaries or, in the case of famous folks, news articles – searching for something – anything – that may indicate that they had acknowledged their sinfulness and their utter need for a Savior, and that they had found such a Savior in Christ Jesus. So, I confess that I did the unthinkable while driving: I asked Google if Hogan was a Christian.
Oh, the joy to read that he was baptized, alongside his wife, a year and a half ago. At the time, he spoke of his renewed faith in this way: “Total surrender and dedication to Jesus is the greatest day of my life.”[1] Hogan said that he gave his life to Christ when he was a boy of 14, but what followed was a life of bad decisions and falling away.
“I was always a believer, but I didn’t completely surrender,” he said. “I thought I could drive better than He could. I thought I could make the decisions better than He could. And now He takes His hands off the wheel and says, ‘Okay. You think you can do it better, go ahead and do it.’ So, like I said, I got tired of crashing and burning.”[2]
As I was driving down the highway and learning this about him, tears welled up in my eyes. In truth, I don’t know the final state of Terry Gene Bollea (Hogan’s real name) – no one on earth does. And I am aware of all the stories and accusations that could militate against his sincerity. Nevertheless, his confession led me to tears because his words and many of his actions, to the best of my cursory research, revealed a man who had encountered the living Lord and, in that encounter, bowed. To be sure, his public persona was intentionally arrogant and brash, but he openly proclaimed his surrender to his Creator. He boldly professed faith in Christ.
It breaks my heart – and often also makes me cry - to read the obituaries of seemingly stellar lives that nevertheless make no reference to Jesus. I also wonder, Did no one ever tell them the gospel? Did they not know anyone who knew Jesus? Did they never ponder the profound reality of eternity – either with, or without, Christ? Rarely do I ever know the answers to these questions, but as I get older, the obituaries have become a place where I tread somberly and with no small degree of trepidation as if I am approaching a crash scene to see if anyone survived.
I hurry pass the accolades, the accomplishments, even the legacies and posterities, and I scan the words for the name of my blessed Redeemer. When I see Him there, I rejoice. Again, not in knowing absolutely where the person is spending eternity, but in knowing that he or she had heard the gospel and had at least had a relationship with Jesus considered worthy of inclusion. But when He is absent, when there is not even a nod to church or to God, I tremble. For I know, with reasonable certainly, that such a one has entered into unspeakable torment. I tremble and I grieve.
Of course, I rejoice in God’s justice displayed and I trust in His perfect goodness; yet from my human perspective, I lament. And I find myself confessing that I have failed to tell everyone I encounter about the hope that can be found in Christ alone. I believe that God is sovereign, and no one will “miss out” on salvation because I was hesitant or timid and missed an opportunity, but still, why would I? Why would I talk about the weather but not also about the hope that is in me? Why would I tell someone to “have a nice day” without telling them how to have a “nice” eternity?
I am ever so grateful that God is gracious and does not judge me according to my failings. Still, I know that I can do better. I am not famous like Hogan, but I can speak as openly as he did about faith. I can look for openings – divine encounters – to interact with another’s beliefs and show them that Jesus is, in fact, the Way, the Truth, and the Life. Even more, I can plead. I can stress the urgency of submitting to the Master. Hogan’s death was unexpected. I can tell others that theirs may be, as well.
So, I admit it: Hulk Hogan made me cry. But he also made me think. He – well, his death – made me consider afresh the unquestionable priority of the gospel. It made me rethink the whole idea of legacy. What I leave behind doesn’t matter unless what I leave behind is a testimony of an unworthy life translated from darkness to light by the grace of God. What am I living for? What might I die for? In the end, nothing else matters. What will my obituary cause others to ponder? What can I do now to make them linger then on the sweetness of the gospel and the hope that can be ours in Christ? Will they look back on my life and say, indeed, death was swallowed up in victory? I pledged to myself today to try harder toward that end and, to some degree, I have Hulk Hogan to thank. Just one more of God’s mysterious ways.