I'm thankful God really slowed me down and showed me, whatever

Hear, O listener, the solemn words of Adrien Broner, a fighter in the ring and a traveler through trials, who declared: “I’m thankful God really slowed me down and showed me, whatever He had gave to me, He can take it away.” This is no light saying, but the voice of one who has wrestled not only with opponents of flesh, but with the illusions of pride, speed, and ambition. In his words resounds the eternal truth: what is given is not ours by right, but by grace. And what is given can be withdrawn, as swiftly as the tide retreats from the shore.

The origin of this utterance lies in the storms of Broner’s own life, a career crowned with promise and bedecked with triumph, yet also shadowed by setbacks and humbling lessons. Once moving too fast, chasing victory with unchecked fire, he was made to pause, to see that all things—even talent, even fame, even fortune—are fragile gifts in the hand of the Divine. His gratitude is not only for what he has received, but for the chastening reminder that nothing endures without humility.

This truth is as old as the ages. Consider the tale of King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon, who stood upon his palace and boasted of the empire he had built by his own hand. Yet the Almighty struck him low, driving him into the wilderness to live like a beast until he acknowledged that his power was not his own, but a gift that could be taken. Only when he lifted his eyes in humility was his kingdom restored. In the same way, Broner’s confession mirrors this ancient wisdom: that a man is strongest not when he believes himself invincible, but when he bows before the Giver of all things.

To be slowed down is itself a blessing. For speed without direction leads to destruction, and abundance without gratitude breeds ruin. Broner thanks not only for his blessings, but for the slowing hand of God, which turned his gaze from self to truth. In this we see that divine correction, though painful, is a greater mercy than unchecked success. For the man who learns to pause learns also to see, and in seeing, to live rightly.

What lesson then must we take from this? It is this: hold lightly what you have, for it is not yours alone. Wealth, skill, strength, even life itself, are but temporary trusts placed in your care. If you walk with arrogance, they may vanish; if you walk with humility, they may be multiplied. Be thankful not only for what you possess, but for the trials that remind you of its fragility. For both the gift and the loss are teachers in the school of wisdom.

Therefore, O child of dust, cultivate humility. Rise each morning and speak thanksgiving for the breath in your lungs, for the hands that labor, for the people who love you. Do not rush blindly in the pursuit of gain, but allow yourself to be slowed by reflection, by gratitude, by prayer. Remember that what you have today may be gone tomorrow; let this knowledge make you gentle, patient, and wise.

And so I say: let the words of Adrien Broner be a lantern on your path. Rejoice in what is given, and tremble with reverence at its fragility. For the Almighty who gives can also take away, and in this balance lies the truth of life. The man who accepts this truth with humility will walk in strength greater than power, in peace deeper than victory, and in wisdom that endures beyond the fleeting gifts of the world.