If you watch ESPN often, you've probably come across this commercial. If you haven't seen it, take a minute to check it out. Then, let's talk.
My visceral reaction sarcastically sounded something like this: "It's not idolatry, it's sports?" I thought about this clip from the Skit Guys almost immediately. Then, I got all bothered about American culture and loyalties and pride and the negativity turned full blast in my head. I wanted to rant, which is the laziest form of reflection. So, I did.
I started asking others if they had come across the commercial. Some had, others hadn't. I either told them about it or pulled it up on my phone. "Can you believe it? It's idolatry in it's fullest form. Isn't it ridiculous? What bothers most is the Texas A&M graveyard strategically positioned so the buried are facing the field because, 'their spirit should be partaking in game day activities.'" I went on and on inviting them into my frustration, anger, and righteousness.
It plagued my mind. The foolishness felt unbearable. Then, I watched the entir short film. If you have 8 minutes, you can check it out here.
My situation worsened. The constant references to each persons identity wholly rooted in an athletic club left me undone. Talks of sports being somehow involved in the afterlife or the ability to remain a fan after death stoked my frustration. "Yeah, you could remain a fan after death because you chose your god on earth. You just won't be called fan, you'd be called a worshiper of insert name-of-sports-team-god." And that might not bode well for anyone's eternal experience.
My self-righteousness beamed and condemnation oozed from my lips like lava pouring from cracks in the earth. I held every rebuttal ready to reject the ideologies of those sports fans. Firepower. Rejecting the enemy. Standing for my beliefs. Advancing the Gospel. Sinners and saints. If I had an army, I might have embarked on a crusade. Thank God I didn't.
After more than a week of agonizing and ranting, I decided to explore my sudden fixation. "Spirit, what's going on here? Show me something deeper." I made that my mantra. "Show me something deeper."
This question formed after some time in prayer, "And what is your idol?" God spoke.
I responded by remembering a story from the Desert Fathers: One day, Pambo went to Antony and asked, "What should I do?" Antony responded, "Do not trust in your own righteousness...Keep your tongue and your belly under control."
I recalled Jesus' constant frustration with many of the Pharisees. They trusted in their own righteousness, which was rooted in their tradition. I found myself reliving those situations in the position of the Pharisees. See Luke 18 starting at verse 9.
"And what is your idol? Can't you see the plank in your own eye?" I heard.
In the same way others idolized a sports team and made it their religion, my reaction to the commercial was an idolization of my own righteousness, which becomes a personal religion of self-worship. It was mostly proper to think of it as idolatry and ridiculous. It was not good to brood and rant, showing it to others in such a religiously pompous manner and inviting them into a space to join my self-righteousness and self-religion.
"Spirit, what is a more proper response? Show me something deeper."
Call it what it is, idolatry. Now, go further. Why is 'idolatry' happening within the context of sports?
Pedaling home, I kept chanting over and over, "the greatest of these is love." I held no heavenly clue as to why that was on my mind. I've been reading Leviticus, so there was no logical connection. I chased it though and found myself reading the "love chapter" in Corinthians.
Verse 13 (ESV) reads, "So now faith, hope, and love abide..." I centered in, "Hope abides." That is to say that hope remains or continues. It stays and it waits. It is swaddled in the very fiber of the human heart. It is sediment in our blood. Hope is here to stay. Peter tells us where to set it.
Why was I surprised by hope when I saw that commercial and short film? Sports fans hearts are anchored in the hope that their team wins. They hope to belong to something greater than themselves. They hope to win and receive the glory and honor trickling therefrom. Why wouldn't people respond to sports in such a fanatic, idolistic way when it invites them into such a hope? Why wouldn't they want to associate with it? That hope is renewed each season. Why wouldn't they leach onto a hope that continues and stays and promises? For some, that is their greatest and only hope.
It's not crazy, it's not sports, and it's not necessarily idolatry. It's misplaced hope. It's the shadow side of a gift from God. Spoiled fruit.
The theological, ministerial response is to recognize that through Christ, "we are born again to a living hope." We are all quick to forget that truth. Some have never been shown the living hope. So, why wouldn't any form of hope be attractive to those not experiencing the living hope of Jesus?
Hope abides. We need it.
Therefore, let us expose others to our eternal, living hope in Christ. Help others reroute their misplaced hopes. That is the great task in ministry. It is not self-righteous ranting focused on the sinful expression.
Let's end with a story.
A janitor walked into a locker room to finish his routine cleaning. He approached the showers and saw a man violating, molesting, raping a little boy. USA Today reports that this janitor and Korean War veteran said, "It's the worst thing I ever saw."
How does that happen?
USA Today continues quoting from the Freeh Report, "He spoke to the other janitors. They were awed and shocked by it. But, what did they do? They said they can't report this because they'd be fired. They were afraid to take on the football program..."
The hope of Penn State winning a championship and dominating NCAA football was entrenched in the hearts of their fans. The love of Joe Paterno and his coaching staff flooded those trenches of hope causing blind faith to spread across the Penn State hierarchy. Their hope was rooted in the promise of glory, love, and fame for their establishment, and consequently themselves. So much power and trust resided therein that a Korean War veteran became too afraid to speak the truth of the worst thing he ever saw. I'm not placing blame, but is this not a case of misplaced faith, hope, and love?
Idolatry is only the surface issue. It's the expression of something deeper.
Surprised by hope? Don't be.
I started asking others if they had come across the commercial. Some had, others hadn't. I either told them about it or pulled it up on my phone. "Can you believe it? It's idolatry in it's fullest form. Isn't it ridiculous? What bothers most is the Texas A&M graveyard strategically positioned so the buried are facing the field because, 'their spirit should be partaking in game day activities.'" I went on and on inviting them into my frustration, anger, and righteousness.
It plagued my mind. The foolishness felt unbearable. Then, I watched the entir short film. If you have 8 minutes, you can check it out here.
My situation worsened. The constant references to each persons identity wholly rooted in an athletic club left me undone. Talks of sports being somehow involved in the afterlife or the ability to remain a fan after death stoked my frustration. "Yeah, you could remain a fan after death because you chose your god on earth. You just won't be called fan, you'd be called a worshiper of insert name-of-sports-team-god." And that might not bode well for anyone's eternal experience.
My self-righteousness beamed and condemnation oozed from my lips like lava pouring from cracks in the earth. I held every rebuttal ready to reject the ideologies of those sports fans. Firepower. Rejecting the enemy. Standing for my beliefs. Advancing the Gospel. Sinners and saints. If I had an army, I might have embarked on a crusade. Thank God I didn't.
After more than a week of agonizing and ranting, I decided to explore my sudden fixation. "Spirit, what's going on here? Show me something deeper." I made that my mantra. "Show me something deeper."
This question formed after some time in prayer, "And what is your idol?" God spoke.
I responded by remembering a story from the Desert Fathers: One day, Pambo went to Antony and asked, "What should I do?" Antony responded, "Do not trust in your own righteousness...Keep your tongue and your belly under control."
I recalled Jesus' constant frustration with many of the Pharisees. They trusted in their own righteousness, which was rooted in their tradition. I found myself reliving those situations in the position of the Pharisees. See Luke 18 starting at verse 9.
"And what is your idol? Can't you see the plank in your own eye?" I heard.
In the same way others idolized a sports team and made it their religion, my reaction to the commercial was an idolization of my own righteousness, which becomes a personal religion of self-worship. It was mostly proper to think of it as idolatry and ridiculous. It was not good to brood and rant, showing it to others in such a religiously pompous manner and inviting them into a space to join my self-righteousness and self-religion.
"Spirit, what is a more proper response? Show me something deeper."
Call it what it is, idolatry. Now, go further. Why is 'idolatry' happening within the context of sports?
Pedaling home, I kept chanting over and over, "the greatest of these is love." I held no heavenly clue as to why that was on my mind. I've been reading Leviticus, so there was no logical connection. I chased it though and found myself reading the "love chapter" in Corinthians.
Verse 13 (ESV) reads, "So now faith, hope, and love abide..." I centered in, "Hope abides." That is to say that hope remains or continues. It stays and it waits. It is swaddled in the very fiber of the human heart. It is sediment in our blood. Hope is here to stay. Peter tells us where to set it.
Why was I surprised by hope when I saw that commercial and short film? Sports fans hearts are anchored in the hope that their team wins. They hope to belong to something greater than themselves. They hope to win and receive the glory and honor trickling therefrom. Why wouldn't people respond to sports in such a fanatic, idolistic way when it invites them into such a hope? Why wouldn't they want to associate with it? That hope is renewed each season. Why wouldn't they leach onto a hope that continues and stays and promises? For some, that is their greatest and only hope.
It's not crazy, it's not sports, and it's not necessarily idolatry. It's misplaced hope. It's the shadow side of a gift from God. Spoiled fruit.
The theological, ministerial response is to recognize that through Christ, "we are born again to a living hope." We are all quick to forget that truth. Some have never been shown the living hope. So, why wouldn't any form of hope be attractive to those not experiencing the living hope of Jesus?
Hope abides. We need it.
Therefore, let us expose others to our eternal, living hope in Christ. Help others reroute their misplaced hopes. That is the great task in ministry. It is not self-righteous ranting focused on the sinful expression.
Let's end with a story.
A janitor walked into a locker room to finish his routine cleaning. He approached the showers and saw a man violating, molesting, raping a little boy. USA Today reports that this janitor and Korean War veteran said, "It's the worst thing I ever saw."
How does that happen?
USA Today continues quoting from the Freeh Report, "He spoke to the other janitors. They were awed and shocked by it. But, what did they do? They said they can't report this because they'd be fired. They were afraid to take on the football program..."
The hope of Penn State winning a championship and dominating NCAA football was entrenched in the hearts of their fans. The love of Joe Paterno and his coaching staff flooded those trenches of hope causing blind faith to spread across the Penn State hierarchy. Their hope was rooted in the promise of glory, love, and fame for their establishment, and consequently themselves. So much power and trust resided therein that a Korean War veteran became too afraid to speak the truth of the worst thing he ever saw. I'm not placing blame, but is this not a case of misplaced faith, hope, and love?
Idolatry is only the surface issue. It's the expression of something deeper.
Surprised by hope? Don't be.
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