My Life as a Football Field

I'm not an avid football fan. The Superbowl doesn't even pique my interest. There was a time when, if men (or women) played it and it was on TV, then I was right there - in my armchair - with my housecoat on. Football, baseball, lacrosse, hockey, golf, soccer, darts, snooker, bowling - paint drying - you name it and I watched it. Almost always when I ought to have been doing something else, and always from the comfort of my own sofa. But that's another story.

Team sports make for great analogies. Motivational meetings abound with sporting metaphors. "Teamwork in the huddle", "tackling the opposition", "cheering for your side", "coming out on top". Who was it that said, "Winning isn't everything - it's the only thing"? Knute Rockne? Bear Bryant? Ara Parseghian? It sort of proves to you that I'm not a real fan when I can't think of the answer to that one.

We, the beloved, know that the maxim "winning is the only thing" is a wrong attitude for us. At least, it's wrong if we understand it to mean "win at any one else's expense." However, if we understand it to mean "give your all for the goal" there can be a certain merit in it, as Paul expressed.

In some minds I suppose that Christ might be compared to the quarterback, bringing plays to the field, communicating them to the players, dictating the play, passing the ball and getting the most out of the team. In many ways I can go along with that picture. The spiritual imagery evokes the Lord working out a predetermined plan by delegating various tasks to His people; He executes the plan through others in order to defeat His enemy, to elicit applause from onlookers and create additional fans. Nice picture!

But, like all analogies, football in general falls far short of the picture of the Christian life. Anything in which we ourselves are compared to battlers, tacklers, rushers and scorers cooperating with each other and the quarterback misses the point for me. The closest any football position comes to my understanding of the spiritual life is that of "receiver".

That is why I feel compelled to pick at this analogy a little a little bit. Football is an American game, and striving through hard work to achieve a goal is the American way. In the world striving is commendable. In spiritual things the wrong kind of striving can be deplorable. Like those who are perishing, when I walk according to the flesh rather than the Spirit, I will, find in this analogy ample encouragement towards belief in the need to earn something, to merit something, and to accomplish something for God. But such is not God's way.

Football it is a game of power, and power is perhaps one of the chief bones of contention between God and the fallen angels, and between God and man. Coming to the understanding that all power (as well as all glory and honour) must ever and always belong to the One Who alone can wield it wisely is the aim of our surrender. In scripture, power never really belongs to any one but God. When we receive power from above it is of absolutely no use to us whatsoever. But it is of immense use to God. We are not able to wield His power but we are able to be channels of it. We may not hold onto His power but we may experience Him working through us.

From time to time, most of us want to be the quarterback, even in spiritual matters. We want veto rights on the playbook. We want to be able to call audibles, give advice to the coach and to bring in our own plays. Sometimes we are tempted to feel pride in the power of our legs as they burst through the opposing line - to rejoice in our own strength and our ascendancy over our foes. Sometimes we want to get pleasure from the power of outsmarting the other team; we want the rush of the subtle head feint, the fake field goal or calling our own number in the huddle. But that's not God's way either.

If you ask where I would see myself in the football picture (besides being in my armchair) I would be obliged to say "groundskeeper." If my life is a game of football and Jesus is the quarterback, then I am the groundskeeper. I see the field as my eternal soul and my duty as watering, mowing, fertilizing and grooming the playing field upon which my Lord does what He came to do; to apply His Own work to the mayhem that surrounds and fills me. He is both quarterback and receiver; He is coach and trainer; He is referee and owner. It's His game and He cannot lose - but if I try to get my self in there then the game will unravel.

But even as groundskeeper I want to remember that I rely upon Him to select the fertilizer and to show me where, when and how to apply it; I need Him to turn on the tap and direct the placement of the sprinklers; He must tell me where to cut, how much to cut and when to go about it.

My joy and reward will be when, at some point, I look up and see that the floodlights are bathing the field intensely, the Heavenly Quarterback is rightly highlighted at centre-field, the crowd is standing and applauding Him wildly, and the game is a flawless 50-0 blow-out. He will hold up his hands to hush the crowd, point to me and say before the quieted host of euphoric fans, "Well done, you good and faithful groundskeeper!" and I will say, "What did I do, Lord - it was all you?" And it will be true!

[**In order to avoid write-ins, or even GBH at the hands of irate Cheeseheads, I will admit to finding out that it was actually Vince Lombardi who coined the phrase.]