Grappling with faith: Wrestling Theology seeks to offer entertainment, inspiration, community

0
1181

Jeremy Hadley and Jake Carter face off in a Wrestling Theology Fellowship match in October at Mercy Road Church Northeast in Fortville. Carter, the current WTF champion, will be part of the next event March 12, again in Fortville.

willhoylerphotography.com

FORTVILLE — Richard Abbott remembers riding on his father’s shoulders at the wrestling match in Indianapolis, a rematch of Hulk Hogan and Andre the Giant.

At 3 years old, he tried to smack hands with people as they walked by. And he sat down, a little afraid, when face-painted wrestlers were in the ring.

Years later, Abbott was a young man, driving around and down after losing both his girlfriend and his best friend. It was Sunday morning, and he didn’t want to go back home. So he walked into a church, something he hadn’t done in a long time.

Both of those moments have continued to resonate in Abbott’s life, particularly in the formation of Wrestling Theology Fellowship — or WTF, he jokes. It’s a faith-meets-pro-wrestling event designed to offer family-friendly entertainment with a touch of inspiration. The next Wrestling Theology event is set for March 12 at Mercy Road Church Northeast in Fortville.

Some of the wrestlers at these events are professing Christians; those who aren’t are willing to watch their language and strive for a family-friendly atmosphere. Abbott prays with them before the show.

“I like his cause and what he stands for, and he’s an all-around great guy,” said T.J. Kemp, a wrestler from Fortville who’s been part of some Wrestling Theology events. “Rich has just got a huge heart.”

During intermission, someone offers a brief spiritual talk. If someone wants prayer, they can find people to share their request with after the show.

The event coming to Fortville in March is some distance from what it was like when it began, but then, so is Abbott.

‘GOD … USED A TOOL, WRESTLING’

Abbott drifted away from church in his youth. His brother died in childhood; the church his family attended had problems.

But on that day in December 2011, he decided to stop in. After the service he met Daron Earlewine, “Pastor Daron” of Radio Theology on WZPL, who invited him to a Pub Theology event. Abbott kept going and began helping out; he’d studied film production in college, so he assisted with technical elements. He began making friends and finding community.

Eventually he asked Earlewine to baptize him. Though a storm the night before hurled a tree truck in front of the door of the church, messing with power — including heat for the baptismal waters — Abbott said it seemed all the more important to move forward in his decision.

A couple of years later, Abbott was talking with some of the friends he’d made; he’d just returned from a wrestling convention. One suggested he find a way to combine his love of wrestling with his faith. So he gathered some fans to watch wrestling together.

Will Hoyler didn’t have to be convinced that wrestling and faith could go together. He remembers watching a television interview with wrestling’s Von Erich family, in which they talked about how their faith had helped them through multiple personal tragedies. He was 18 and points to that moment as a start in his own faith journey.

“It was kind of the catalyst for me to delve deeper into knowing what a relationship with Jesus was all about,” Hoyler said. “God met me where I was and used a tool, wrestling, for me to better understand the Gospel and better understand my need for Jesus.”

Hoyler and others began helping Abbott. They put together a meet and greet with Lex Luther and Nikita Koloff, who had become Christians and were willing to answer questions and sign autographs.

But some saw potential for yet another level of event. One of them was Tom Cheatham.

COMBATING LONELINESS

Cheatham had watched a little wrestling as a child but wasn’t terribly into it. Yet a mutual friend said Cheatham should meet Abbott. Cheatham found himself drawn to the sense of community Abbott was trying to create. Having sold medical devices, including a device for chronic pain patients, Cheatham felt he’d watched the opioid epidemic start. It made him think deeply about loneliness, about people alone and overdosing with no one there to revive them.

It made him think about loneliness in general, “the next pandemic” as he calls it. And while some people follow sports that bring them together, such as football’s Super Bowl parties, he saw wrestling being a very individual experience.

“You watch it in your home by yourself with your Cheetos and a two-liter,” Cheatham said. “It seemed the perfect recipe to me of a community that doesn’t share community very much.”

So he and Abbott sat down over coffee and dreamed. Cheatham agreed to set up tables and chairs and free up Abbott at events.

People have turned to Abbott when they’ve had personal problems, Cheatham said, “and I think that’s just a huge thing.”

BUILDING COMMUNITY

Mike Harrison is one of the people who found a sense of community at Wrestling Theology. He went to a show in 2018 and began helping out, posting flyers before events.

“You get a lot of people who come in that you wouldn’t catch them dead in a church on a Sunday or Wednesday,” Harrison said. “But then some of those people … hear the message we give during intermission, and they’ll be like, ‘Dang, maybe I need to start coming to church here.’”

Earlewine said he’s enjoyed seeing Abbott use an interest he’s passionate about to reach out to others.

“I think we tend to falsely believe that God is not for us, that maybe he’s against us,” he said. “Or maybe you grew up going to a church, and the experience was not loving or not welcoming.” Yet walking into a church and seeing it set up with a wrestling ring can make people think, “‘If they would host an event like this, maybe they would welcome me to be part of their community,’” he said.

Abbott thinks about how he felt that Sunday morning in 2011; it influences how he approaches people now.

“I want to be like the person I needed at that point in time,” he said. “For me to be the person someone else might need to confide in and be their friend … I want to be there for them.”