Games We Play

Standard

Today was a lovely winter Sunday. The air was brisk and the sky was mostly clear. As the sun rose, hundreds of thousands of people woke up to the sound of alarm clocks to discover that yes, by some miracle, they were still breathing.

All over the world, families gathered around breakfast tables and laughed together over the Sunday comics. Couples in all stages of life kissed each other “good mornings,” and little kids rushed to be the first to wake up mommy or daddy thanks to the miracle of human love.

All over the world, children were born today. What began as little clusters of genetic material combined, got equipped with immortal souls, and grew into beautiful little boys and girls in nine short months—a feat that human science has yet to replicate. Janes and Kaitlins and Georges and Johns said their first loud “hellos” to the world today, reminding their parents of the miracle of the gift of human life.

All over the world, people gathered into houses of worship. They bowed their heads and talked to God—a magnificent thing if you really think about it. People lifted their voices and sang, singing together (not always on key, but who says that’s what matters?) about the God they serve and how much they love him thanks to the miracle of God’s love for us.

All over the world, people died today. Grandmothers and grandchildren, uncles and aunts, soldiers and convicts—who knows how many?—left their lives behind today. People with stories and experiences now lost to the living forever. People who were heroes in their own small ways. And those who walked with God and knew Him deeply, knew Him well, stepped out of the limitations of time into limitless eternity. This is the miracle of the life God gives.

Strangely, I don’t hear people talking about these miracles today. These phenomenal, unfathomable, and earth-shattering mysteries were not what people broadcast on the 6-o-clock news. And, for the most part, these mysteries were not the things most of America was thinking about today.

Instead, millions of Americans sat on their couches, watching grown men fight over an inflated pig skin in a modern coliseum.

A diversion, yes. A harmless one, too. Nothing wrong with watching a game. But it is possible to put too much stock in something which, in comparison to the marvels of the world we live in, is relatively trivial. Why do people get angry over bad calls? Blind refs? Why do they feel they have the right to gloat when it was that man on the screen, not them, who made the final touchdown? How many fights broke out among friends over the final results? What did they give up in the name of a game?

“Lighten up,” they say. “It’s just a game.”

Right. It’s just a game. Just. A game. No more than that.

How often do we ignore the eternal when tempted by the immediate? Not just when it comes to football—but with anything else?

Advertisements

5 responses »

  1. May I put this link on my Facebook page? I love your blog, I look forward to it daily. My friends would be blessed my your words.

  2. The Dadster Ripostes:

    Hi My Little One!

    Yes, you are right. The world fiddles while Rome burns.

    We cry as the voice of one in the wilderness.

    Are we, humanly, frustrated? Yes.

    But God works as He will.

    Call, cry, and announce.

    Let him who will hear, hear.

    Love,

    The Dadster

Ramble back at me...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s