It has been approximately ninety minutes since I witnessed firsthand
Baylor’s football team upset the top-ranked Kansas State Wildcats in a
dominating performance. I attended the game, along with a fellow English grad
student Jeremy Larson, and we had a marvelous time. College football being what
it is, the crowd was going nuts the entire game. I was hugging Jeremy and
high-fiving perfect strangers as we exulted in each Baylor touchdown and
defensive stand, and wailed each time K State seemed to gain an advantage. Thankfully,
the Wildcats never made a game of it in the second half, and the margin never
dipped below double digits. Jeremy indicated a desire to rush the field along
with half the stands, a tradition when a major upset occurs on the underdog’s
home turf (artificial though it may be). I demurred, wishing to avoid being
swallowed in a sea of madly rejoicing and delirious college students for no
other reason than to say I did. Ultimately, neither of us did, but we watched
in tolerant amusement as the stands slowly emptied with students surging toward
the field as the clock ticked down to zero, even while disgruntled and
disconsolate Wildcat fans trudged toward the exits.
Afterward, as we boarded a shuttle to carry us back to
campus, Jeremy inquired about my church attendance, whether I had settled on a
place. I expressed my decision to attend Antioch Community Church, a
charismatic and non-denominational church that might be labeled seeker-friendly
by those who disapprove of the decorum and enthusiasm of the worship. I
expounded on my experience at his church of choice, Redeemer Presbyterian, and
the objections I felt about several aspects of the service. After discussing a
sermon that seemed to miss the mark in a fashion, I also explained that I
wanted a more lively, passionate worship service than Redeemer proffered. Jeremy
was gracious and assented that Presbyterians were not known for their outbursts
of enthusiasm when singing and praising God.
On a side note, which is not wholly unrelated, the infamous,
perhaps notorious, Westboro Baptist Church from Kansas was rumored to be
picketing the game somewhere. Apparently their rabble-rousing message was that,
among other things, people should not worship sports. Most of us would dismiss
such a notion posthaste, calling it divisive, intolerant, puritanical, perhaps
purposefully isolationist. I enjoy sports greatly, and again was enraptured by
the events that transpired.
As I lay in bed still flushed with emotion, or at least the
aftermath of riotous joy, I was struck by the incongruity of my objection to
Redeemer and my experience at the game. Here I had rejected the church because
of a lack of excitement on the part of parishioners and the worship team, and
yet I had gone bonkers over a football game, acting far more excited and
enthusiastic when the team scored a touchdown than I can ever remember being in
a worship service, no matter where. I shudder to admit this, but could Westboro
have a point? Could the same people who spew hatred and bile and bigotry under
the auspices of the Church be right to a degree? Was I being hypocritical and
engaging in idolatry?
Well, to ask if I was being hypocritical and idolatrous is
superfluous and redundant: I most certainly have been, and still can behave as,
a hypocrite and a idolater. I admit it freely because only when we acknowledge
that a problem exists can we begin to address it. If the measure of my
enthusiasm is to be seen in how much I shout and exult at meaningless things
like sports, as opposed to my behavior about God and His plans and Word and
works, then clearly I invest far too much passion in the dross of life than in
the reality of God. What, in the final scheme of things, does a football game’s
outcome matter to my relationship with Jesus Christ?
Not a whole lot.
Now, some of you may be saying, aren’t you being a little
puritanical yourself? What’s the harm in enjoying harmless diversions like
sports? God the comic killjoy again? But that’s not what I’m saying. I’m not
like Augustine, who regarded any time and energy spent away from learning about,
communicating with, or talking about the things of God to be wasted and
borderline-sinful. In order to maintain flawless attention on God we would have
to be perfect in our thoughts and self-discipline, and I am of the belief that
Jesus wants the distractions in our lives to be present so that when we are
engaged with God we are making that conscious choice. As we were saved, so
should we also walk with Him, and we made the choice to be saved, we chose Him.
He wants us to choose Him. And for us to choose Him, we must have the option of
not choosing Him. So the life monastic is not, I think, the answer.
Isn’t it interesting and instructive how my immediate
response after saying that is again to caution against the opposite extreme? I
just argued against one extreme, of removing oneself from the world, and now I
am impelled to counsel against the opposite extreme. So much of the time is
spent vacillating between extremes, never finding a happy middle ground. And so
I also want to caution against the argument that we should seek out potential
earthly idols and expose ourselves to as many distractions as possible simply
so we can choose our posture toward God over the world. No, no, such an
argument is the mark of immaturity, like those who recoil from the grace
message by suggesting that what we do on earth sin-wise doesn’t matter because,
“hey, we’re forgiven, we’re under grace and not the Law, so let the sin begin!”
On the contrary, sin and distractions will never be thin on the ground as long
as we are bound by this mortal coil. Even if a monastic life were possible, I find
that my thoughts and emotions can distract me from focusing on the Father just
as efficiently and effectively as a movie or books or relationships. Don’t seek
out potential worldly idols for the sake of rejecting them; rather, seek to
walk with the Lord as continuously as possible, and when distractions appear,
when idols present themselves for worship, as they inevitably shall, then make
the choice to worship Him alone who is worthy of all worship and praise.
Have I strayed from my point? Not in the least. We’re
considering whether my euphoria was appropriate, and whether I should regret
not feeling similar ecstasy worshiping God. I am writing now on Sunday night, a
day after the game, and after attending a steamy Sunday service (the preacher
spoke about sex). Sometimes God provides an answer for a question almost as
soon as it crosses my path. During the worship portion, we sang a song called “The
Great I Am.” It’s a great song; what I particularly appreciate about it is
that, unlike so many modern choruses, it contains lots of clear and overt
references to the Bible and names of God. And during the song, I was so moved
that I began to weep; I could not control myself. The reality of God and who He
is penetrated to my utmost depths in a way that nothing else can.
And I realized that while sometimes we do get excited about
God in the same passion that one might see at a football game, such excitement
is rather transitory and shallow. I will always have the memory of the game
last night, but in terms of lasting impact upon me, it is essentially
meaningless. But God has been progressively untwisting my heart and replacing
the stony, fearful heart that spurned and fled from emotion for much of my life
these past couple years, and experiences like the one I had this morning, or
others I’ve had at my old church in KC or in the fellowship of friends are
flashes of heaven, sprinkles of healing on my heart, glimpses of God that, infinitesimal
as they may be, are almost more than I can bear. And are promises of things to
come.
I can give no hard and fast rule on what you should watch or
experience in life. When comparing the two experiences, the earthly one cannot
help but reveal its utter hollowness and meaninglessness beside the holy one,
and I can appreciate the one for what it is, an enjoyment of life, while
treasuring the other for what it portends, the life of Christ in me, changing
me, making me new, uniting me with the Great I Am.
Hallelujah, holy holy,
God Almighty, Great I Am
Who is Worthy? None
beside Thee, Lord Almighty, Great I Am…
