I confess. I don't watch a lot of sports on television. But the Winter X Games is a yearly exception. Each January I try to catch as much of the Games as possible. There are three reasons for this. One, it's still a young sport and it still has a freshness to it. You really don't know how the sport is going to redefine itself, but it will. Second, the primary challenge is for the athlete to push him or herself to new heights. Sure, there are competitors to overcome, but still the sport seems to be very personal on the competitive level. But what I like best is its sense of community.
The Winter X Games are competitive, but the event is first and foremost a reunion of athletes that share a common love. The X Games are an excuse to get together, display what they've learned since the last time together, and a chance to learn from each other.
This is not an event filled with trash talk or throwing down. No one wants to win because someone else failed. They applaud each other and are quick to check on fallen comrades. They feel each other's pain and they celebrate each other's victory. There is business involved, but these people love their sport. They are surfers on snow, and they remind us of what is best about Christian community.
The call of Christ is a high one. He challenges us to live a more dynamic life of love and service. He asks us to take chances. Sure, it's a different kind of adrenaline rush, but it's a life that should move us. I can never understand sideline Christians. They miss so much.
As Christians, we also try to push our personal best. Our community should also be dynamic, filled with a love that hopes and roots for each other. We laugh with those who laugh and cry with those who cry.
And we look forward to celebrating together. We don't have to wait a full year for the reunion. We come together regularly to celebrate a loving God and to hear from him as he speaks through our neighbor. We learn from each other as we allow others to see what God has added to our lives.
We sharpen each other, spurring each other on. We party with each other as we enjoy the gifts of God. There should always be a freshness as Jesus leads us into new territory.
Someday the Winter X Games may lose their edge and become another commercial event. I hope not. I hope these athletes are able to protect what they have. In the same way, I hope we never lose our edge. I hope we not only protect what we have, but we push it even farther.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Friday, January 28, 2011
Significance
"The biggest disease today is not leprosy or tuberculosis, but rather the feeling of being unwanted."
- Mother Teresa
Jesus was a busy man. He had a mission to change the world, and he had very little time to do it. His schedule should have been filled with meetings, speaking engagements, and audiences before people of power.
He certainly did speak to crowds wherever he went, but it is surprising how much time the gospel gives to individual encounters with people that weren't movers and shakers. He took time out to encourage a cynical woman drawing water at a well. He stopped for a desperate, abused woman who was healed by touching him when he should have been preaching to the crowd that was following him. He touched a leper to heal him even though Jesus knew that act would force him to quarantine himself for a time. Over and over it seems that Jesus takes time away from his mission to do small things.
But this was his mission, and these acts are why we remember him today. Grand campaigns don't matter. People matter. Causes and movements can gain a life of their own and roll over people--small people, difficult people, people without power, unwanted people.
For Jesus there are no unwanted people. There are people who think they are too important to care for others. There are people who make their faith all about themselves. There are people who try to prove their worth at the expense of others. But there are no insignificant people. We can rule nations, discover cures, or fly to Mars, but if we can't stop to get a glass of water for a thirsty person, then our values are misplaced.
Jesus' approach may have seemed inefficient, but people were Jesus' mission. He stopped for people, he gave them time, he listened to them, and touched them. He showed people they were worth his time. In doing that, he met their deepest need. He let them know they were wanted.
- Mother Teresa
Jesus was a busy man. He had a mission to change the world, and he had very little time to do it. His schedule should have been filled with meetings, speaking engagements, and audiences before people of power.
He certainly did speak to crowds wherever he went, but it is surprising how much time the gospel gives to individual encounters with people that weren't movers and shakers. He took time out to encourage a cynical woman drawing water at a well. He stopped for a desperate, abused woman who was healed by touching him when he should have been preaching to the crowd that was following him. He touched a leper to heal him even though Jesus knew that act would force him to quarantine himself for a time. Over and over it seems that Jesus takes time away from his mission to do small things.
But this was his mission, and these acts are why we remember him today. Grand campaigns don't matter. People matter. Causes and movements can gain a life of their own and roll over people--small people, difficult people, people without power, unwanted people.
For Jesus there are no unwanted people. There are people who think they are too important to care for others. There are people who make their faith all about themselves. There are people who try to prove their worth at the expense of others. But there are no insignificant people. We can rule nations, discover cures, or fly to Mars, but if we can't stop to get a glass of water for a thirsty person, then our values are misplaced.
Jesus' approach may have seemed inefficient, but people were Jesus' mission. He stopped for people, he gave them time, he listened to them, and touched them. He showed people they were worth his time. In doing that, he met their deepest need. He let them know they were wanted.
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