How a Football Game is Like Going to Church

Josh and me taking a selfie with Kirk Herbstreit

Sports Illustrated recently conducted a poll asking football fans what football is more important than.  Over 26% said football was more important than religion.  Twenty.six.percent.  Y'all.  A quarter of the population.  

I witnessed this first hand yesterday.  

  

I managed to snag tickets to this year's rivalry game between Ohio State and Michigan.  I have been to other OSU games, but I had not witnessed this storied rivalry in person.  I had debated for awhile about who to take with me, when I remembered the fact I have two brothers.  The only dilemma being I had one ticket.  I realized this could get dicey.  I tried to play it as objectively as I could, texting both of them asking if they had previously been to the OSU-Michigan game before.  One had, the other hadn't.  Perfect.  Problem solved without resorting to a coin toss or a domestic dispute.    

We hopped on an early bus down to campus, sparing ourselves the hassle of parking.  We wandered over to the set of Game Day and then headed to St. John Arena for the Skull Session.  We people watched for awhile before heading to our seats, settling in for what proved to be an epic game.  

As we sat watching the game, crammed shoulder to shoulder with a record crowd of 110,045 people, I had the sudden and involuntary realization that going to a football game is a lot like going to church.  I know, an odd connection to make.  And probably a slightly irreverent one, but roll with me here.  Allow me to present to you this tongue-in-cheek list of similarities I reflected on yesterday amidst first downs (even if one of them was highly disputed) and touchdowns:  

1) There are a lot of lost people at church and at a football games.  My brother and I watched one poor soul go looking for his seat a few rows below us.  He started to climb over people, realizing that none of them looked familiar, and then he realized he wasn't in the right place.  He stood in the aisle, looking up and down the section, pulled out his ticket stub to verify, muttering under his breath, and he still couldn't figure it out.  So then he just stood there and drank his beer for a few, acting like he knew exactly what he was doing.  I'm not sure if he ever found his seat or not. 

2) You get the occasional unsolicited hug and handshake.  My brother sat next to a slightly tipsy young alum who felt the need to side hug my brother in celebration of Ohio State scoring, with the occasional slap on the back.  I don't know that my brother was a fan of those moments.  I'm also not a fan of the the blasted "turn and greet your neighbor" moments at church.  Thankfully my church has done away with them and I will be forever grateful.  I just think they are awkward and I groan out loud every time I am subjected to them.  Just ask anybody sitting around me at the time.  

3) Sometimes tacos get served at church events and dinners.  Taco definitely got served yesterday.

4) There's a lot of standing and then sitting, and then standing again, and then sitting again.  'Bout the time I sat down yesterday at the game is about the time everyone around me felt the need to stand up, so up I went.  And then we'd all sit down.  And then somebody would make a play, so then we'd all stand up.  If you've been to church, you know exactly what I'm talking about.  

5) Group singing.  At football games we feel the need to sing things like "Hang on Sloopy."  No different than church where we sing the same song on refrain for about 4 verses.

6) Praying. Lots and lots and lots of praying.  And then some more prayers.  God clearly heard the prayers of Buckeye fans yesterday.  

7) Running around and waving flags.  If you're a little more on the charismatic side of faith, you'll get this one.  At the start of every Ohio State game, they send their cheerleaders and pep squad running around the field with flags.  We also add fireworks at our games, and I don't know of any churches that have those, but they should maybe consider adding those sometime.  Make for some real serious moments with the Spirit.  

8) You give tithes and offerings.  At football games, this means paying $9 for a cup of hot chocolate.  Which also happened to be the same price of a premium beer.  Welcome to a college football game in November in a cold northern state.  You'll definitely have to pass the offering bags to be able to afford this one.

9) It's a pain to get in and out of the parking lot.  You know you've been to that church where they have their own cop stationed out in the road, just to direct traffic and get everybody in and out safely.  At least we don't pay to pay $20 to park, unlike at football games.  My brother and I did spot a sign for parking spots down near the stadium.  For $100.  All proceeds went to charity, of course.  

10) We've got a band leading worship.  Ours just does it with a little more flare than most bands.

11) There's lots of hand-raising and waving.  My brother and I started to take stock of the varieties of waves and fist-shaking that occur in a game.   You've got the windshield wipers.  You've got the awkward beauty-pageant style waves.  You've got the abrupt wavers whose arms suddenly bolt into the air like they've been shocked with a bolt of electricity.  Tim Hawkins' hand-raising video could easily apply to football games. 

12) There are occasional outbursts of spontaneous yelling.  At football games it's usually the f-bomb when our team screws up.  One guy behind us felt the need to yell at Urban Meyer a lot.  "Open up the playbook, Urban!"  "Turn the page of the playbook, Urban!"  He just kept saying that over and over again.  I kind of wanted to tell him to come up with a new line.  Yell all you want, but geez, at least change it up every now and then.  At church it's usually "amen" and "preach it."

13) Sometimes you hit overtime. You know, as the Spirit so moves.  Except when you hit overtime during a church service, most people are starting to wonder where they are going to eat for lunch.  When we hit overtime yesterday against Michigan, my brother and I wondered if we should stay in case the game turned in our favor, or whether to go so we could beat the crowd should the game descend into a loss.  Glad we stayed.    

14)  There is the occasional shoving match.  In football games, these are usually between 250-pound linemen, broken up by referees.  In church, these are usually between 25-pound toddlers, broken up by preschool teachers.

15) Inevitably there are penalty flags. Most penalty flags in church get thrown when you find someone sitting in your seat.  The same seat you have sat in for the last decade.  How could these people not know that was your seat?!  Totally a penalty. 

16) Play calling.  On the sidelines this usually looks like a string of guys standing next to each other , all looking like they had a bee fly down their pants.  In church, this is the worship leader trying to subtly to signal to the band repeat the chorus a few more times.  You know, a hand in the air here, a few raised eyebrows there, a vigorous head nod to emphasize the point.

17) Who doesn't love a good half-time show?  This is also called coffee and donuts at church.  This is where everybody scatters to get some sustenance before returning to their seats for the remainder of the game.  

18) There's always the occasional headset malfunction or problem.  Thankfully I haven't seen my pastor do this yet when he's annoyed with his hands-free microphone.

Like I said, going to a football game is just like going to church.  

Better luck next year, Michigan.  Drink some milk in the meantime.  It does a body good.      

Permission to Long

Ah, the holidays. How I love you and occasionally dislike you. You conjure up feelings of nostalgia and romanticism and sentimentality. While simultaneously conjuring up feelings of annoyance and a deep desire to vow to abstain from all future family gatherings and holiday hubbub. What exactly is it about the holidays that so effortlessly brings out the crazy in us all? And what exactly is it about the holidays that make us single folks feel a little unhinged? 

I’d like to be married right now. Or maybe at least have a boyfriend. The holidays seem to resurrect that feeling more so now than any other time of the year. I occasionally need someone to kill the bugs in my apartment (seriously, I mildly freak out over the house centipedes that take up residence in my little space), deal with my car when it needs repairs, send me flowers when I’m having a crappy day (or even when I’m not), buy me a pie from Just Pies when I least expect it, be my bodyguard when I’m traveling overseas, and generally be my knight in shining armor. 

Alas, there is no boyfriend and no husband on the horizon line.

And I think far too often it’s easy for those of us who are single to look around at all that we don’t have, namely a ring on our left hand and a new last name, and want to just camp out in sadness over that fact. I made a decision a long time ago I didn’t want to join that camp. Certainly not because I don’t want those things. I do. I deeply desire them. I just know those things will never complete me or satisfy me.    

Maybe your story is a little different, and maybe marriage isn’t what you long for because you’re already married. Or maybe you’re longing for a different career. Or maybe a different life in a different city with a different start. Or maybe children scampering around the foot of your bed. Or maybe a home to call your own instead of a stuffy apartment or your parents’ basement. Or maybe a different family with a little less insanity.   

We’ve all got them, these things we long for, these things we desire and hope to see come to fruition.

Somewhere along the way, though, a few of us have made the mistake of equating desire with destiny. “Because I want this and have this desire in my heart, therefore, that must mean God will give it to me. I wouldn’t feel this way unless God was going to do something about it. If he wasn't going to give it to me, he would take the desire away.”

Just because I want to be married doesn’t mean God is going to give me a husband. One does not automatically equal another. Not to say that he won’t, but it also doesn’t mean that he will. Desire does not equal destiny.
   
But what am I to do about that? What am I to do with the longings that roll around in my heart and my head, and not just longings for a husband, but also the random assortment of other things I long for? Am I just supposed to squelch them? Am I supposed to stuff them down and never speak of them and never bring them to the surface? Am I to deny what I feel?

I believe the answer is no ultimately. No, I am not to squelch them, to act like those longings don’t exist. No, I am not to deny them. No, I am not to just shake my fist at God and say how dare you not give this to me when this is all I've wanted.

But I am to place them properly in God’s hands. Safely and rightly where they belong. Because I realized something the other day: I do have permission to long for these things. I have permission to place them before God, to ask Him for these things, to pray for these things. However, I am to remember if there is anything I long for, it is ultimately an echo and a reflection of a much larger story being told about longing. Paul emphasizes this in 2 Timothy 4:8, “Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day—and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing."

If we long for anything, let us long for Jesus’ appearing. And let us remember that the longing highlighted in 2 Timothy is the banner that hangs high above all other longings, the longing that is written deep into our hearts.     

If we long for another life, different from the one we have, it’s because we know in our hearts, there’s another life yet to be lived, an eternal life. 

If we long for a permanent home, it’s because we know there is a home waiting for us, an eternal home.  

If we long for a wedding day, it’s because we know there is a true marriage waiting for us, one where we will sit down to a feast and celebrate forever and ever.

If we long for a husband, it’s because in our hearts we know there’s already a groom, an Eternal One.

If we long for perfection, it’s because in our hearts we know there is One who is perfect. 

If we long to never grow old, to never age, to never wither, it’s because we know in our hearts there is a life unending waiting for us. 

If we long to belong, to fit in somewhere, it’s because we know we’re all orphans, up for adoption, but gladly welcomed into the family of Jesus Christ. 

If we are longing for a body that works and doesn’t creak when we get out of bed in the morning, it’s because we know one day there will be a body that never fails. 

Whatever is deficient in us here, or whatever longings we might have on this side of heaven, they are there as echoes, indicators and reminders of a greater reality.

We have permission to long for a home, a family, a child, a sense of belonging, a wedding day, a husband – to desire things that reflect the heart of the Father. 

But hold to them loosely. Hold them with open hands and trust if there is ever a longing tucked inside our hearts, it's a longing that should point us to the Keeper of all that we have ever hoped and longed for: Jesus.