"Always be ready to make your defense to anyone who demands from you an account of the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and reverence. Keep your conscience clear, so that, when you are maligned, those who abuse you for your good conduct in Christ may be put to shame." 1 Peter 3:15-16
Okay. Let me start by offering my sincere sympathy to the city of San Francisco, and 49ers fans in general, in your time of grief...
And let me continue by saying, "GO RAVENS!" I was blessed to watch the big game with dear friends in Greektown, who were diehard football fans and able to tutor Laura and me in some of the subtleties of the game that might otherwise have been, *ahem,* lost on such fair-weather fans as ourselves. :-) I was also blessed to undertake the 2 hour ride back to Catonsville, right up Broadway in Fells Point, and witness the pure joy of thousands of enthusiastic fans. It was well worth the sleep lost.
But I have to say I'm a little troubled, and here's why (for the short of attention span, start it up around 3:10 to see what I'm talking about.)
So here's what I'm thinking...
First of all, this post is absolutely NOT about what Ray Lewis knows or does not know, what he did or did not do thirteen years ago. I think he himself would agree that at this point that's between him and God.
But while we're on the subject of God, my conflict is this: it is kind of my main job to encourage people to live their faith out loud. To become naturals at talking about it, and more importantly acting on it, so that others may see what they do and glorify God. That's exactly what Ray Lewis has done on a number of occasions this season, and I commend him for it. But...
I frankly am not sure what God Ray Lewis is talking about. Is he talking about a God who allowed this act of violence to happen in the first place? Or a God who would somehow not have been glorified had the refs made a different call in the 4th quarter and San Francisco had taken the trophy home? Or a God who has no problem at all with children every bit as loved by their parents as mine are, having no clean water to drink, but who is absolutely glued to the heavenly TV set to be sure his guy Ray and the Ravens emerge victorious? I think you see where I'm headed here.
See, I don't believe in that God. And I don't have much to go on, but I assume if Mr. Lewis really thought and prayed about it, neither would he. If God could use Saul of Tarsus, who had the blood of more than one early Christian believer on his hands, I'm fairly sure God can use whomever God pleases to God's glory. And while we're at it, the God who weeps with mothers who have lost their children, who dwells with us in our utmost pain, who went to the cross to redeem our broken lives from sin and death, probably cares less about the outcome of the game, and more about whether or not those who believe and follow him are doing their utmost to relieve that suffering. Ray says he is, and I don't intend to say otherwise.
But here's the real point I want to get to...see, Ray Lewis is not a trained theologian or preacher. I don't expect him to start quoting Reinhold Neibuhr or Karl Barth when he gets into the spotlight. But it just so happens that in our culture, guys in a position like his, who happen to also follow Jesus, get a disproportionately HUGE opportunity to share with others who he is and what he's about. And while he trains day in and day out on his game, I wish guys like him would spend just a little more time, as 1 Peter puts it, "preparing their defense." Thinking about the God they so vociferously proclaim. Reading God's word. And praying hard about the question, "If someone asked me the question today, 'who is Jesus', how would I answer in a way that shows forth the love I've experienced?"
Now I would be very surprised if anyone reading this has even close to the kind of exposure a Superbowl-winning linebacker at the end of his career has. Your audience will likely be one or two people at a time. But in so many words, the question's going to come to you, too. "How could God let something like this happen to me?" "What do you suppose God thinks about ____?" "Hey, you go to church, right? So, uh, why do you do that?" If you're like me, you'll pass up at least as many chances as you take. But if you've been training--if you've been worshiping, if you've been studying the Bible, if you've wrestled with some of these tough questions, by yourself and with others--then just maybe you can be a light of hope for somebody.
One of the realities my preaching professor drilled into us is, "you will at some point say something stupid." Suffice it to say, his prediction has more than once been proven correct. I am the last person to judge a fellow believer for sticking his foot in his mouth, because my own words would be muffled by my toes. But I dearly hope that the fear of those awkward moments--of saying the wrong thing--will not silence those of us who do know our God as a God of hope.
