There's almost nothing in the world I like less than football. I wish I liked it. I wish I loved it. I have two boys that play, and they eat, sleep, and live football everyday all the time all year long. I think I dislike it because I don't understand it. In high school, I learned what "first and ten" meant, and then after that I stopped paying attention. The announcers speak a foreign language and the players are like bees doing a secret dance. I just don't get it.
I love hearing of families getting together over the weekend to cheer their favorite team on TV and share a bowl of chili. My family never did that. My dad is a runner, which is a fairly solitary sport, and my mom is only a fan of the rivalry that occurs in the context of a daytime TV courtroom. Thus, I never sported a colored jersey or painted my face in an effort to spur the local team to victory. I longed to be a part of that sacred season because it always looked like everyone was having such a grand time, slapping each other on the back and high-fiving it all over the place. Whenever I did get invited to a game party, I sat on the couch stuffing my face full of all the yummy snacks just so I would have an excuse to get up and refill the other plates in the room. Something to do, you know.
I wonder sometimes if that's how people feel who don't go to church. Because they don't understand it, they stay away. There they are, sitting quietly in their seat in the audience, and they have no idea what's going on. On stage, a few musicians might be leading a song and in front of them some people are waving their hands in the air. Then they sit down, and a bucket is passed. The pastor prays for God to bless those that have decided in their heart to give, leaving those that haven't and don't understand the real reason for the bucket wondering, "Will God bless me, too"? After a message peppered with history and logic, they file out the door with the rest of the crowd, uncertain what to do with the information and vowing never to return.
The scenario I just described is not what happens at my church. Even though we sing, pass the bucket and listen to a message, I feel like we do a really good job explaining WHY we do them and giving people space to ask the questions that will help them figure out God and his role in their lives. We strive to be a church that un-churched people love to attend. Everything we do is filtered through the lens of the answer to this question: "Will ________ help lead people into a growing relationship with Jesus Christ?" I love being a part of a movement like that. Together, we are all trying to figure it out, and I am praying that even the ones that begrudgingly sit in the audience will come away with their very first piece of "first and ten" knowledge, knowledge that will tease them into coming back for more.
Apparently, I have a lot to learn about football, but if the world can get excited about a bunch of boys in matching uniforms scrambling over an oblong leather flotation device and ramming each other in the head with metal helmets, I'm pretty sure a Spirit filled church can inspire people to come back week after week to hear God speak on the rivalry brewing since the beginning of time and to witness miracles beyond what has ever been seen between the goal posts. This is no "holy huddle"; this is the brilliant story of humanity, of you and me, and God's plan to redeem the world unfolding as we each begin to understand our own personal playbook under the direction of the greatest owner, coach, and manager of all time.
In the bleachers at my sons' football games, I may not be able to follow the ball or understand calls like "holding" or "fumble". I go to the games because I love my boys and I see the joy in their eyes when they're playing their favorite sport. I want to share a little bit of that with them. With a few caring people alongside me explaining things as we go along, I am praying that I become a raving fan. Maybe one of these days, when they ask for volunteers to call the games over the loudspeaker, I can raise my hand and come forward.
And that's exactly what I'll do with the friends who visit my church. When they have questions, I will join the conversation. I don't ever want to hear someone say they hate church, especially when the reality is that they simply do not understand it. I want people to see the joy that overflows that room, touching the lives of those leaving and living, and thinking, "OK, I didn't totally understand everything. But that was fun, and I learned something new, and so I'm coming back next week."
See you there.
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