More Than a Game

Some of my fondest childhood memories are from when I played on a soccer team for the first time with my elementary school classmates.

When I think back about my "rookie" season, I remember all these fun moments like getting my own jersey and thinking that was so cool, playing in front of a cheering crowd in the rain, and cramming into a van with teammates and going crazy after we had all drank way too much soda.

Like a lot of activities at that age, sports were innocent in the sense that they were all about having fun and trying your best. What more can a kid do? That season, one coach said that our team was built on the foundation of three P's: positioning, passing, and pizza. Good times.

The age of innocence never lasts though.

The next season I played, I remember some of my teammates talking about "select" teams for the first time, which were exclusive squads that you had to try out for, a new concept to me. I also remember one game when I ran for a ball, got shoved to the ground by an opponent, and then couldn’t breathe despite gasping hard. I had never gotten the "wind knocked out of me" before, and I really thought I was going to die at that moment. While these examples of increased levels of competition were actually good for me (and in my opinion generally healthy experiences for kids), they were also early signs that sports were becoming a lot more serious -- more organized, more time-consuming, more violent, more important. As a kid who loved athletics though, I took most of the changes in stride, and I would go on to play various sports in high school and college.

Today, about 20 years after my first soccer game, I still feel exhilarated while playing sports and even still think it’s cool to have my own jersey (with my name on the back!) for my adult league hockey team. Essentially, being out on the hockey rink, tennis court or soccer field with friends makes me feel like a kid again sometimes. However, as a twenty-something who’s becoming more and more self-aware thanks to caring friends and God, I’m also coming to realize how I have an incredibly unhealthy relationship with sports.

Now, as the only male writer for this blog, I feel compelled at this point to present my worldview and gender theory on why guys are so obsessed with sports, because I’m sure that some people have always thought ESPN and the Super Bowl are much ado about nothing. Let’s start with the absolute basics: (1) men and women are different and (2) we live in a fallen world where we often base our identities on everything else except for being children of God who are unconditionally loved.

That being said, men and women both doubt their self-worth, yet they doubt themselves in very different ways. Men doubt themselves by asking, “Am I strong?” and “Do I have what it takes to succeed?” Women doubt themselves by asking questions such as "Am I beautiful?" and "Am I worth being pursued?" and other queries that are too complicated for me.

With that paradigm in place and with the knowledge that Satan attacks people where they’re most vulnerable by using lies, it’s easy to see why many men struggle with the fear of failure and why many women struggle with their body image.

Going back to my relationship with sports, my problem is that I derive a shameful -- and false -- amount of my self-worth based on my performance in athletic endeavors.

Since men are seeking the affirmation of their ability to perform, one can see how athletic competition is a de facto character proving ground. There are detailed statistics for measuring yourself. There are clear winners and losers. There are individual awards. Then of course, there are people who value your contributions and achievements and will praise you for them.

Now, at face value, enjoying sports and pursuing excellence in them are actions that fit right in with the Christian lifestyle. After all, the benefits are good health, which is treating your body like a temple; getting to enjoy the Creation; ministry opportunities; and more. The apostle Paul makes multiple faith metaphors using athletics as well. Yet for me, it’s the classic pitfall of a good thing becoming an idol because I value it more than Christ and his teachings.

To fully explain all the unhealthy aspects of my relationship with sports would be way beyond the scope of a blog post -- because there are so many. But I’ll close by detailing one dimension that I’ve been thinking a lot about lately, which is my desire to be the star, the center of attention, the frontman.

On one of the hockey teams that I played on a year ago, I had established myself as the best player by scoring the most points throughout the season, and I eagerly accepted the benefits that came with having that role.

In the world of team sports, when you’re the leading scorer on a team, you gain special privileges. You can berate your teammates for under-performing, you can take up as much playing time as you want, and you can generally “call the shots,” so to speak. Further, no matter how much you carry yourself like a prima donna, as long as you produce results that lead to victories, everything is justified. Also, when you're good at something that other people are trying to be good at too, those people will pay attention to you as they watch you a little more closely, trying to observe how you do things, their eyes sometimes transfixed on you as they seek to figure out your secret to success, even as they watch you do something mundane like walking through a parking lot. It's flattering.

It’s probably very similar to being the lead singer in a band, the star of a musical, the soloist in an ensemble, the head of a research team, etc. Basically, you know that you are needed, and that feels nice.

I wouldn’t say that I was a bad teammate on the whole, but I definitely needed to learn a lot about humility and leading by example.

On my hockey team that I mentioned, I was enjoying being the star up until a few months ago, when a new person joined the roster who was a vastly better player than I. Because my head was all puffed up from being used to receiving the star treatment, I resented having to downgrade myself to second fiddle. But soon enough, I began to recognize the benefits of not being the go-to guy.

I started to realize that being the star of the team was extremely stressful because I would put so much pressure on myself to perform since the team’s success was usually determined by how I played. When the new guy joined us and started dominating games by himself, that was actually a huge relief for me and it allowed me to simply enjoy myself again knowing that there was someone I could defer to. Instead of clenching my teeth until I scored the next goal and trying to will the team to victory, I found myself singing along with the music over the loudspeakers like I used to. It was great.

To make a spiritual analogy, it’s perfect how Jesus is the star of this game of life, the one who carries the load for the team. In all the difficult circumstances of my life, I know that Jesus is the one who will deliver. All I have to do is give him the ball (i.e. relinquish control) and follow his orders (i.e. obey). If it were all about me, then I would implode under the pressure and demands.

Am I saying that Christians should never relish taking the lead or seize the moment in the spotlight because it’s prideful? No. God blesses talented people with opportunities to use their skills -- and sometimes that involves being on a public stage. Ultimately, it’s all about acknowledging that anything good that we accomplish is only possible through the grace of God.

As I continue to enjoy playing sports in my "adult" years, I need to remind myself that the chief gameplan is to glorify God.

I think if my six-year-old self were to see me playing hockey today, he would ask, “How come you never smile when you play?”

“Thanks, kiddo,” I would respond. “I’m working on that.”

Discoveries

The thing about being in your mid-twenties is that you start to realize who you are, the things you like and the things that scare you. You see where you are like your parents, and pray for the God's grace to keep you from generational sin. You see too where God is in your heart, and you bow to your knees in gratitude, that yes, Screwtape has not completely infiltrated your soul. Your mid-twenties are the first time you can really stop, pause from life's race to check your heartbeat, where you have the wisdom to sense the venom and the gifted righteousness coursing through your veins. It's a time for deciding on what roads to take, but when you know that you will constantly be deciding.

My friend Hlase claims women reach their age of wisdom at 27- I think there's some truth to this, or at least that's the age where we can start to understand what the scope of wisdom might be and appreciate it. At 26 though, I stand in wisdom's shadow. Wisdom to me, is a serene woman, not bowled over by life's storms, an edifice looking upwards. At 26 though, I toss and blow too often like the detritis in the fierce weather patterns in the valley just below that edifice. At 26 I feel the chill of the possibility of a loveless life; not that I am not loved, but that I have not loved. And yet, I know enough to have hope and look towards that edifice, and know that at 36, 66, 86 I'll continue to look to that edifice, for wisdom, like love, hopes.

The Saddest Eyes.

the sun's reflection in the saddest eyes,
the soothing music that will save our lives,
the bitter taste of swallowing goodbyes
that she would rather feel in salty tears we cry…

the tears come down your cheeks in streams
the headache lingers on, it seems.
daydreams of smooth smooching and the saddest eyes...
those big colorful eyes, long lashes, and the tears they cry.

twas not his fault, nor was it God's.
was your own fault all along,
for building "mental castles" over parking lots
that could never fulfill their full potential.

vivid and livid, like wrestling and rising,
uprising, if i may say so, within our hearts,
conflicting thoughts; spinning and pressuring frustration,
your head explodes, but there's still no explanation.

why do we fear? why do we mumble? why do we hesitate?
our world needs more of love and courage, less of fear and hate.
And Jesus said, tomorrow will take care of itself...
So, why do we let our fears put us on the shelf?

the saddest eyes, the stabbing jabs of loneliness.
a sunray that's joyful, a sister that's playful,
a heart that is prideful, and another one that's fearful.
what could have been, would have been so good...
the saddest eyes once again grow tearful.

the sun reflecting in the saddest eyes,
reminds him of the foundation he denies.
he is familiar with the charm, enamored with the glow,
never expected to feel so low.

the summer wind rustles the leaves, the kids around are splashing,
moments of truth are still rehashing
why is it like this? I don’t even know what’s wrong.. why can't i make it full of wonder?
can't God bring a miracle? or is this presumption?

the leaves are green and time keeps going at its speed,
each second our lives are ending
the dusty wind warms up your tired flesh,
the scars won't heal, nor will they remain fresh,

in this lifetime we'll never fulfill the longings..
ego, beer, sex, marriage, and affection,
the people with whom we feel a connection,
the more we get, the more we seek another direction.

even music itself - the active act of worship,
the life dimension that makes her heart thaw -
even music itself is not enough, we know we need something more.

nothing on earth satisfies,
said the one with the saddest eyes.