For Calvary's inaugural "Sport Spirit Sunday"
I am still high from Tuesday night - still high from the first post-season series victory at Wrigley Field.
Last night’s game didn’t dim it - it only added to the fire, because after years of slogging through almost and no-chance and next-year as a lifelong Cubs fan, this year I get a taste of glory. And oh, it’s good.
I wasn’t a player on the field Tuesday night or any time this season. I wasn’t in the stands that day with the cheering crowds and the chance to touch victory as players reached out with high fives. I wasn’t on the streets outside of Wrigley, adding to the festivity and holding on to the occasion by sheer gridlock, but I sure was claiming the glory as my own:
“Flying the W” on Facebook and Twitter, jumping up and down in front of the TV, screaming We Won!
We did it!
We.
I couldn’t hit a major-league fastball if my life depended on it, and probably couldn't hit a slow-pitch softball gimme, either. I don’t manage, or coach, or tend injuries or pay the salaries, but I was all we on Tuesday night, and I’m not giving up on my share in that glory.
I get you, James and John.
I really do.
I believe it is the heart of a fan, the excitement of the committed, that brought you to Jesus asking for the promise that you’ll sit right next to him in his glory. It’s the natural expression of that we feeling, the seriousness with which you take your commitment to the Jesus team. You don’t hesitate for a minute when Jesus asks you if you’re in it through thick and thin, if you’ll be there saying “we” for the losses and the misery and the grind.
Sure, there’s some greed in it, in your angling for the best seats; and sure, your buddies resent it because they don’t want to be left out of the glory either, and it looks like you’re trying to keep it to yourselves. But I can see your bid for glory as the truth of your commitment - heart and soul and attention and time - even if you never turn a game-changing double play or get anywhere near that dangerous and life-changing cross.
There is a glory to simple commitment - to your team, to your country, to your God- that Jesus recognizes.
And then, of course, he invites you to go deeper.
Jesus’ baptism, which he invites James and John to share, is a daily commitment, just like our baptism: the ongoing, constant work of living good news in a world that’s mostly bad news.
There’s certainly some kind of reference in the “cup” and the “baptism” to Jesus’ passion, to his self-giving death and to his resurrection, but I think he’s trying to focus not only James and John, but all the disciples, on the ongoing work.
That’s why he tells them all that greatness requires service. Greatness requires self-sacrifice and self-discipline, and attention to the other much more than to yourself.
It’s a holy truth, and it’s one you’d hear from coaches and champions as well as from Jesus.
Greatness requires selflessness, requires caring about the team more than your own interests:
passing so someone else can score the goal,
throwing to the cut-off man instead of going for the glory of a solo throw to the plate,
blocking when you’d rather catch the touchdown pass.
Greatness requires self-discipline, too.
There are early morning workouts, putting every ounce into practice that you didn’t really want to go to, drilling teamwork until it’s second nature to give and receive, focusing on the little things, over and over.
Those things produce greatness on the field - or the track, court, pool, ice.
But these things also become greatness, in and of themselves, when we do each of them for the sake of the game, for the rhythm of the workout that grounds you in your body, for the beauty of the pass or stroke or leap itself.
And that discipline - the training runs, the practice drills - shapes our faith and our relationship with God just as much as the power and skill in our bodies. Teamwork drills and strength training and the joy of the game all teach our hearts about service, hope, and faith, whether we intend it or not.
You don’t have to win the World Series, Stanley Cup, Chicago Marathon or an Olympic medal to be a great athlete. There are great athletes - strong and skilled, excellent teammates, shining examples - who never make it out of the minor leagues or even the high school leagues. There are persistent, gifted, gracious stars who inspire as much in defeat as in success.
Greatness isn’t the same as fame or victory.
It’s true in our faith, too. That’s what Jesus tells the disciples today.
Great Christians, great disciples, are found just as much in the middle pews of little churches as in the Vatican, the mega-church, and the calendar of the Saints.
Faithful people, great in their self-discipline in early morning prayer workouts, showing up for practice at pantries and shelters and hospitals and schools that you didn’t really want to go to today, drilling “stewardship” and evangelism and pastoral care until it’s second nature to give and receive.
And there are great disciples who give their hearts to God through victory and collapse, who hold the love, and make space in the holy, to help the seasonal fan be inspired and transformed.
The metaphors come easy, but God’s glory can sometimes seems a long way off, for James and John and for you and me.
We are not all the way there yet — and God forbid I jinx it, for the Cubs or for God’s kingdom! — but we can already accept Jesus’ invitation to go deeper.
We can go deeper into training as athletes for the gospel, training our hearts in strength and trust and discipline through the ways we train our bodies.
We can go deeper as fans - as wholly, deeply committed believers, practicing faith and expectation through both misery and triumph.
Be an athlete for God this season, like Paul, like the disciples who learn to serve, disciplined in the practices that build up faith, build up the kingdom of God, here and now and among us.
Be a fan for God this season, like James and John, giving your whole heart to the pain and the triumph.
Practice the skills of faith on the field, in the stands, and in front of the TV, and let your faith shape your body, and your commitments on this earth,
because the kingdom and the glory are near, always
and, yes, This Year.
and, yes, This Year.
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