Take a knee in victory, and the masses cheer.

Take a knee in prayer - as Tim Tebow often does on a football field - and it's another story.

If the Broncos quarterback could see into the future, he'd be wise to tone down the religious rhetoric just a notch.

"You can't help but cheer for a guy like that," former NFL star Kurt Warner said. "But I'd tell him, 'Put down the boldness in regards to the words, and keep living the way you're living. Let your teammates do the talking for you. Let them cheer on your testimony.'

"I know what he's going through, and I know what he wants to accomplish, but I don't want anybody to become calloused toward Tim because they don't understand him, or are not fully aware of who he is. And you're starting to see that a little bit."

Tebow might be the most polarizing figure in football. He runs a gimmick offense that makes defensive players scoff. He has endured relentless waves of criticism from those who feel his rudimentary play besmirches the position.

He also could lead the Broncos to the playoffs, winning in ways that shatter convention.

The scene is equally surreal in Denver, a city that once held impossibly high standards at quarterback, where a chorus line of successors attempted to emerge from the ever-present shadow of John Elway. And now the city is going bonkers over a quarterback who struggles to complete a simple forward pass?

In Tebow's case, it's not the talent. It's the personality. It's the energy he creates and the truckload of willpower he brings to the field. It's the unflappable grace he shows outside the lines.

Already, he has been marginalized by his own coach, John Fox, who said Tebow would be "screwed" in a normal offense. He was subject to an inquisition on the set of the NFL Network after a victory, when Marshall Faulk demanded to know what Tebow told his receivers when he failed to deliver the football.

To date, Tebow has absorbed every barb without flinching. His strength clearly comes from his conviction, which is spawned by his religious beliefs, and this is where the story crosses some prickly boundaries.

Earlier in the season, an opponent mocked his prayer ritual after a sack. And during a radio visit last week, Jake Plummer set off a national firestorm with the following critique:

"I think he's a winner, and I respect that about him. I think that when he accepts the fact that we know that he loves Jesus Christ, then I think I'll like him even better. I don't hate him because of that. I just would rather not have to hear that every single time he takes a good snap or makes a good handoff. Like, you know, I understand, dude, where you're coming from. . . . But he is a baller."

Plummer's words cut deep in the NFL community, where many fans don't want religion served up with their football.

Undaunted, Tebow continues to flaunt his beliefs. During and ESPN interview, Tebow brushed off Plummer's words, stating that "anytime I get an opportunity to tell (Jesus) that I love him or (get) an opportunity to shout him out on national TV, I'm going to take that opportunity."

Warner understands completely. After winning a Super Bowl with the Rams, he thanked Jesus on national television. It was the moment that defined the rest of his life, and how he would live it.

For a while, Warner seized those live platforms, aware that networks often edited out his religious references in taped interviews. Then he learned some things along the way.

"There's almost a faith cliche, where (athletes) come out and say, 'I want to thank my Lord and savior,' " Warner said. "As soon as you say that, the guard goes up, the walls go up, and I came to realize you have to be more strategic.

"The greatest impact you can have on people is never what you say, but how you live. When you speak and represent the person of Jesus Christ in all actions of your life, people are drawn to that. You set the standard with your actions. The words can come after."

Tebow should listen up, because Warner already has lived this story. He's had coaches who felt religion was cutting into football time, telling Warner he spent too much time with the Bible. He saw how some fans were offended by the frequent shout-outs to Jesus, that Warner somehow was suggesting that God was a football fan, caring more about an NFL quarterback than, say, "a tsunami victim."

It's a tough subject. Some people recoil, some people relate. Some cheer, some jeer, some turn away completely. On his journey, Warner found his biggest impact on people came during his personal struggles, when he had no platform, when he was relegated to the bench and people witnessed how magnificently he handled demotions and adversity.

It wasn't about words. It was words in action, the kind that speak volumes.

Reach Bickley at dan.bickley@arizonarepublic.com or 602-444-8253. Follow him at twitter.com/danbickley. Listen to "Bickley and MJ" weekdays from 2-6 p.m. on KGME-AM (910).