No Sweat!

I watched a group of high school and college young people dance an impromptu "Hokey Pokey" yesterday. I'm only a little biased when I say that my granddaughters (Chickie is 3 and Molly is 2) and I don't need to sweat the competition!

Confessions Of A Former Junkie

It's the middle of the Super Bowl. I'm not watching.

I watched the first half, tuning in for the commercials. Quickly caught up in the game. Right after the halftime show I turned it off. And it's not because the "home team" were victims of a horrible play to end the first half.

The reason I turned off the game is that I am a former sports junkie. My teens and young adult years were consumed with teams and seasons. Cathy called attention to it early in our marriage. During a "big" game (weren't they all?) I would issue the comforting words, "Don't worry, honey. The season is almost over." She quickly caught on that a new season of another sport always started before the current one ended. Always.

I played games, watched games, listened to games, read about games, and talked about games. I occasionally -- er... often -- attended games and yelled so much I lost my voice.

For the past several years, I have watched the Super Bowl to see the commercials. This year the Arizona Cardinals, a team I never cared for, miraculously got to the big game. I was and am a fan of their quarterback and I like the things I have read about their coach. However, whether they win or lose (they lost), my un-fan status won't change.

I gave up my habit as a sports fanatic because it left me more empty than full. The emotional drive to stay up with a team was often left disappointed. Besides, life has much more interesting and important things to offer than a game.

Like the call I received during the first half last night.

It was from a friend of mine, a young dad with two small boys. Two years ago at this time his marriage was in great danger and he was consumed with pain. His younger son hadn't been born yet.

During that two years I have had the rare privilege of watching the broken pieces mend. Their marriage and their family are now full of joy and hope.

When he called, I told him I was watching the game. I wondered if he was doing the same. "I'll try to catch the end," he said, "to see who won. Right now I'm working in the yard and spending time with my sons. It's just how I wanted to spend this afternoon."

I'm glad I left the habit behind.

The Biggest Loser?

After my wife and I had been married for a few years, we went on a little retreat. I can't really remember where we went, but it was some kind of Christian camp and it was off-season. That means we were about the only ones there. We took a walk and noticed a tether ball just hanging there begging for a game.

Now I'm a reasonably good-hearted guy and I wanted to make sure I didn't do anything to spoil the great time we were having. Therefore, I decided to "take it easy" on her. She immediate took advantage of the situation and demolished me! Certain that I had made it too simple for her to win, I amped it up a bit. She stomped me again! After several games and total humiliation of my male ego, we (blessedly) quit.

It turns out that my wife is quite a competitor and she LOVES games. We play some sort of table game at mealtime almost every day and sometimes we play at both lunch and supper. It only takes 10 or 15 minutes and it's an important part of our marriage. Our current game is a fast-paced double solitaire we call Pounce. Some of you call it Nerts. We both have winning streaks from time to time and she is currently heaping me with daily doses of humility.

Still, I hate to lose! It's as if a volcano erupts within me when I can't seem to get ahead. Why is that? Am I really so fragile that a meaningless table game can spoil my meal? How does that fit in with the Fruit of the Spirit?

My struggle in this part of life is like a microcosm of something which I think is far more important: it's hard to rejoice when my church seems to struggle and another one is doing well! I started learning this many years ago. A young married couple started attending the church I pastored in Phoenix. Our church was growing rapidly at the time and they were an important part of it, leading a class of others their age. After about two years with us, the man approached me and asked my permission to try other churches. I was impressed by his humility and knew that I must say "yes" even though it broke my heart.

They tried a church or two, then he started a small fellowship of his own. What made it especially painful was that most of the people in his new church were ones who used to attend the class he taught in ours. They had gradually filtered away from us and most were still looking for a place to call home and he was able to provide it.

Within a year or so after that, I was asked to be pastor in Yuma. The move to a place three hours away completely changed my perspective! I'm sad to admit this now, by I no longer saw my friend as a competitor. In fact, before long, he was calling me asking for help with things like preschool policies.

Over twenty years have gone by. That church my young friend started with a handful of people is now one of the largest churches in Arizona. Literally hundreds and hundreds of people have come to Christ through their ministry. Once I got past the horrible thoughts of competition, I was able to embrace what had really happened: God was expanding His Kingdom and I got to be a part of it. I now proudly refer to that pastor as a son in ministry. One of the men who came to Christ in that church told me some years ago: "You're my spiritual grandfather!" Definitely not the competition.

I'll leave this one here for now. My wife is at the table shuffling cards!