Instant Replay and Life

I remember football commentators singing the praises of a marvelous new technology: instant replay. Right after the ref's whistle, TV viewers could see the play that just happened. Of course back in the '70s, the picture was grainy, and the refs themselves couldn't see the replay, and we were just happy that we could see that amazing play again.

Today instant replay is high def, from countless angles, and can be used to reverse a call. (Unfortunately for Saints fans, it can't be used to reverse a no-call, at least not yet.) The replay is instant, and can be slowed down, reversed, and zoomed. Analysts can study that play every way imaginable. In many cases viewers can know exactly when the ball hit the ground, whether the ball has broken the plane, and when the player is down-by-contact. We feel omniscient. We get to second-guess the refs, and call them appropriate names.

We don't have instant replay for our daily lives, but we can take time to think about and reflect on life's experiences. Sometimes you can't understand a football play until you see it again. Sometimes you can't understand life until you think about it. It's like slow motion for your life.

Obviously you can get too introspective. But, as Plato says, "An unexamined life is not worth living."

You can also use scripture to get different "camera angles" on your life. Different Bible passages look at the same concept from different perspectives. For example, Jesus, Peter, and Paul all talk about the marriage relationship. They all speak the truth about marriage, but from different points of view. When you put all the angles together and look at your life,  you get a more clear picture of the truth.

We can learn from life when we think about it. Reflection from the scripture can really help us see the truth.

Vontae Davis and the Hit of Reality

Yesterday at half-time, Buffalo Bills corner back Vontae Davis decided that his football career was over. He retired after 10 years in the NFL, in a way that surprised everyone. News outlets covered his retirement and he explained his decision on Twitter.



He found criticism and support on social media. Critics faulted him for letting down the team. Supporters praised him for following his heart.

What strikes me is the way he came to his decision. "But today on the field, reality hit me fast and hard: I shouldn't be out there anymore." He could no longer live up to his high standard of competition. It was time to quit. Right now.

I applaud him because he could see that the "warrior mentality" no longer served him well. It had kept him playing football at the highest level for a decade. But he had to move on. There is more to life than the next game, the next playoffs.

He has dished out and received countless hits on the field. But this time he was hit by something harder than a 300 lb. offensive lineman. He was hit by reality.

I applaud him because he realized what was really happening. He had to take a good, hard look at his life and where it was heading. He stopped doing the next thing, and made a life-altering choice. He had the courage to make that choice, suddenly and publicly.

What do we do when reality hits us? Too often we ignore it and try to deaden the pain. We stay busy. We turn the music up louder. We double down on the same old stuff. We stubbornly refuse to change. Maybe we lack the support we need. Maybe we lack the courage. Maybe we prefer to deny reality and continue in our dream world.

For Vontae Davis, it did not take a career ending injury. It did not take divorce papers from his wife. It did not take being cut from the team. He chose to make a change because he woke up when reality hit him.

I need to wake up like that every day.

Football and Spirituality

Football season is upon us. As August yields to September and the thermometer surrenders a few degrees, we know that we are ready for some football.

I have a friend who was a pastor in Chapel Hill, and he noted an interesting correlation. The people at his church were much more spiritually sensitive when the Tar Heels were winning. In football season or basketball season, as long as the Heels were winning, the spirit of the church was thriving.

I'm not sure what that really means. Could the depth of spiritual commitment really be subject to the feelings of a sports fan? We are all happier when our teams are winning, and that could translate into more sensitivity to the Holy Spirit. Maybe our hearts are more open to him when we are joyful.

(There is also a lot of evidence that hardship draws us to God more than good times.)

But if a joyful spirit helps us listen to God and cooperate with him, maybe we should be looking for more ways to cultivate our joy. Why should we let our spirituality be held hostage to a win-loss record?

I'm still going to pull for my football teams this fall. And I will try to surrender my heart to the Lord, regardless of what happens on the gridiron.

Sports, Winning, and Love

Congratulations to the Clemson Tigers for winning the National Championship last night. It was a game for the ages! And is was worth staying up for (since I was pulling for the Tigers). After the game, Clemson head coach Dabo Swinney said something powerful. He said that the key ingredient in his program was love. He made similar remarks after his team beat Ohio State on New Year's Eve.


I've been watching football all my life, and I've never heard a coach claim love as his winning formula before. It just sounds hokey... until you win a national title, especially against the Crimson Tide. Love and football seem so incompatible. But love and teamwork are very compatible.

Some teams may be motivated by fear--of failure, of letting down teammates, of disappointing coaches, of showing weakness. And fear is a powerful motivator. Fear has kept the masses in check in every oppressive regime. Fear often keeps dysfunctional systems functioning. Fear does work. That's why it is used so often. It seems like an obvious tool to use. The external motivation of negative consequences shapes our behavior all the time. Why else obey the speed limit? But fear is driven by self-interest.

Love, on the other hand, has an entirely different kind of motivation. It springs from the heart. It is driven by concern for others and it is fueled by others' concern for us. Love is reciprocal, and it spirals upward. When someone fails in a loving relationship, he or she is picked up and restored. When someone fails in a system based on fear, the offending party is castigated and punished. That person may even be rejected entirely. There are others to step in and take that role.

Now I'm probably reading way too much into the program of Coach Swinney. I know nothing about the team's graduation rate or even the success of his players at the professional level. And I know even less about the Alabama program. I'm not implying that their team is fear-driven.

But I do know that love is more powerful than fear. It is much more difficult to operate with love, because love demands selflessness and humility. It demands listening and understanding. It demands sacrifice. Love is more difficult than fear, but it builds people up internally for all the right reasons.

Would I have been writing this blog if Clemson had lost? Who knows? But I would rather be on a team like Swinney's and lose than be on any team with less heart.

After all, the ultimate winning really has nothing to do with football.

Panthers and Prophets

The Carolina Panthers seem to be shaking up the NFL world.  Yes, they are winning.  Winning a lot.  But there's nothing new about that--other teams have posted near-perfect records in years past. 

But critics have found fault with the Cats.  They are too brash, too bold, too confident.  They celebrate too much.  Where did this dancing stuff come from?  They don't seem to take this game seriously.  And they are winning.

Over the decades, football has morphed from a game to big business.  You can't win with a smile on your face.  You have to grind out the accounting, and payroll, and union negotiations.  You have to deal with the press, and the fans, and the local community.

But this Panthers team has restored a key ingredient to the game:  Fun.  The players are
having a blast out there.  They dab, and jump, and give touchdown footballs to kids in the stands.  They congratulate each other and pose for team pictures.

Here's the key:  the Panthers have reminded us all that this is a GAME.  By definition, games should be fun.  This new attitude has stunned the NFL establishment.  The Cats are taking the game back to its basics.  It's competition, it's hard work, and it's fun.

Shaking up the status quo always bothers people.  When John the Baptist came along, he told the establishment that all their rules and traditions missed the entire point of a relationship with God.  It made the religious people mad. 

Jesus followed up, teaching that the kingdom of God was at hand.  He showed the religious elites to be hypocrites.  He would not play by their rules.  And they had Jesus crucified.  Jesus paid for their sins as he died.  He proved his power by rising from the dead.

When the status quo of my life gets shaken up, it makes me think.  It often makes me mad.  But when I handle it well, it wakes me up.

Football, Heroes, and Priorities

Today, as I watched the Panthers game, I saw something that struck me as sadly ironic.  The camera showed a Panther in uniform entering the stadium, high-fiving a line of fans.  These fans were also in uniform--military uniform.

Here was a sports celebrity being cheered by his fans.  The celebrity was preparing for a game, a contest of no real significance.  He was being cheered by a dozen men who are trained for real battle.

Think about this.  A celebrity-athlete makes millions playing a game which merely entertains us.  He is cheered by a line of men who may only earn enough to feed their families.

Without the service of our military personnel, the celebrity-athlete would have no opportunity to play an entertaining game.  We the public would not need to be entertained, because all our energy would be spent on survival.

Something seems out of balance.  I participate in the society that values sports-entertainment enough to make millionaires of athletes.  These soldiers cheer on the football players as though the players are heroes.  The real heroes fight the battles that really matter.  

I can barely remember who won the 2015 Super Bowl.

History will remember the battles that really matter, and none of them occur in stadiums.

I'm Pulling for You

I am a fan.  At least I have been.  I became a full-fledged fan for the Wake Forest Demon Deacons when I was in college.  I had planned not to be a fan, continuing my anti-school-spirit that served me so well in high school.  That spirit kept me negative and anti-social, and brought all the fun associated with misery.

But my suite of freshman guys helped me get a school spirit life.  I found that it is fun to have school spirit.  I liked sports anyway, so pulling for my team live-and-in-person was really cool.  So, I went all out for sports.  Although I never painted my face, I did spend the night out for tickets and even bought season basketball tickets one year, guaranteeing me excellent seats.  I went to the last Big Four Basketball Tournament in 1980, which my team won!  I never missed a conference football or basketball game in my four years of college.

Looking back, though, I see that I left some of my soul on the field or court.  That's really good for a competitor, but for a fan, it might not be healthy.  I mean, I spent many weekends in a semi-depressed state because my football team lost.  How could they throw that interception?  If only he had caught that pass.  Why did the coach call that play?  I would run those scenarios in my mind all weekend.  I would hold on to those mental gymnastics and really feel the loss.

One day it occurred to me that I did not have to think that way.  I had no control over the past, and even during the game I really had no control.  I was only a spectator, but I grieved and regretted and celebrated like an actual player.  I realized that was not healthy.  It really helped me to let go of the events over which I had no control.  I could still celebrate and enjoy the victories, but not take the losses to heart.  That badge of fanhood -- feeling depressed -- was not a badge I really wanted to wear.

I'm learning to balance allegiance to my team with my mental health.  Frankly, I don't know how those sports announcers can manage when their teams are losers.

Anyway, I see the same pattern as I invest my life in other people.  I am pulling for people to make good decisions and experience personal victory.  When they make poor decisions, from my perspective, I feel like I have personally failed.  What could I have said differently?  How could I have been a better friend?  But these are their decisions, not mine.  I don't have (and don't want to have) control over others' lives.  I may have some influence, but that's it.

So, when people settle for second best, disobey Jesus, or excuse their mixed up priorities, I take it personally.  I'm pulling for them.  I love to celebrate the victories, and I do.  But I overdo the ownership of loss.  It doesn't help them or me.

I'm pulling for you, but I'm learning how to do that responsibly.  It's your problem, not mine.  I'm here for you, cheering you on to victory.  When you lose, I want to divide your sorrows.  When you win, I want to multiply your joys.  But ultimately, your life is between you and God.  And so, my real effort needs to be in praying for you, and praying for me to be a better friend.

And obviously my problems are not your responsibility either, but you can call me out and cheer me on.

He's the One in charge of both you and me.  And we know he will win.