Tip of My Iceberg

I’ve been a lover of the beautiful game ever since our oldest played soccer in the fifth grade. It’s a sport our whole family has gotten behind–each of our family members have specific teams we support, and the competition reaches from the field to the family room.

We were able to go to the Orlando Pride’s semi-final game, where they played the Kansas City Current. It was a tough match, and stoppage time ended up being eighteen minutes–almost the length of a full overtime. The Pride won 3-2 in a scrappy game

Pure fun. Even if we did disagree with a lot of the referee’s calls. Loudly.

The decibel level of the cheering and joyful screaming of the fans was more than two of our grands could tolerate. Their parents had to walk them through the corridors away from the game, just to settle them.

Sports fans all over the world are deeply committed to teams of their choice. Soccer fans are especially dedicated to seeing and celebrating victories for their teams.

Nobody questions the extent of being a fan. Sports shows, like everything on ESPN, create programs that spotlight fandom. Like Game Day, when the announcers for ESPN go to the campus where a big football game will be played that day.

All to celebrate sports and those who play.

Do any of those people enhance or change our lives? Not really.

If people become excited about their faith in Jesus, they’re called fanatics, someone who is excessive and filled with single-minded zeal. Others are often uncomfortable with people whose faith is solid and uncompromising.

There’s a story in the Bible about a man with two sons. The younger son didn’t want to wait for his father to die to gain his inheritance, so he rudely asked to be given immediately what someday would be his. This lack of respect for the man who raised him was unthinkable back then.

This son proceeded to recklessly spend his inheritance on whatever pleased him. His friends helped him do it–till he ran out of money. Then his buddies left him, destitute. He had to resort to working at a farm feeding pigs, which would have been repulsive to any other Jew, but he was desperate.

He finally got up the nerve to go back home, willing to work as a servant at his father’s house rather than be honored as a son. But when he was still far away, his father, who had been watching and waiting for him, ran to his lost son and determined to go all out celebrating the return of the one who had been thought lost or even dead. The prodigal had returned, and his father never thought twice about what he’d done before. As far as the father was concerned, his son was reinstated to full position in the family.

The celebrating began.

God celebrates each of us. He longs for us to know Him personally so that He may pour out His generous love on us. God never hesitates to celebrate His own. He is a true fan of those He has created and loves.

Is it wrong for those of us who know Him personally to celebrate Him as well?

Followers of Jesus, however, celebrate the hope they have in knowing the One who created them, having the guarantee of eternity with Jesus. The mess we make of our lives fully forgiven.

That is worth commemorating.

You could say I’m a true fan of God.