Riders ’09: Game 1

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Five fumbles. Three interceptions. One turnover on downs and a blocked punt.

And we won.

That’s why football is better than figure skating and high diving… because you can be far from pretty and still win. All I want to see is I learn (and I mean quickly) how to protect that ball.

That said, I admit that I was expecting a loss to open the season. But amidst the turnovers, I saw some good stuff: An offense that got the job done, a Darian Durant who would have had a very solid game with one or two mistakes taken back, Congi is money again, and feistier defensive line than we’ve seen in a while. Nine sacks. NINE… in a game! There were months last year that we didn’t register nine sacks. Our running game wasn’t anything to brag about, but it was enough to keep BC’s defense honest, and it will climb as Cates and Makowsky return.

Overall, 1-0 looks good in what some of us fear could be a bit of rebuilding year. Keep fighting, boys, and we just might surprise some folks this season.

And in case you missed it, here’s the summary…

Lions at the Gate

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I woke up at 4:00 this morning.  Prior to that, I woke up a couple other times with those ahhh-did-I-sleep-in-and-miss-my-flight jumpy twitches.

But I didn’t. So I just got up and ready.

In the Regina airport, I crossed paths with pretty much the whole BC Lions team. Would you believe me if I told you that 42 professional football players can be spotted in an average Canadian prairie airport without the use of any special surveillance equipment?

Then I bumped into Coach Buono himself.

I had my Rider jacket on. He had his Lion look on. Our eyes met; no words necessary. I wanted to say, “Hey Wally, how’d Mosaic Stadium treat you last night?” But I decided just to silently nod.

You know I love you, Wally. And I hope your cholesterol is still down—the CFL would never be the same without you.

But I do hope the east side made you feel welcome last night.

Poets, Prophets, Preachers

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That’s the name of a conference I’m headed to this weekend.

Sunday morning will be a chance to worship with the Mars Hill community, and then the conference will run until Tuesday.

Quite honestly, I’d kind of like to stay home because home feels pretty good right now.  But I’m not complaining about opportunities to take advantage of either, so I’m going and I’m intent on absorbing all that I can.

More later…

Prayer and the Unexpected

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As I’ve said earlier, I’m teaching a series on prayer these days.  From within the pile of material and preparation filling my time has come a realization–when we enter conversation with God, odds are good it’s not going to play out how we envisioned.  I know, that could be discomforting because most of the time, we approach God with an idea that we’re pretty certain is a great idea.  We take it to Him, in the hopes that He’ll buy in and put His superior power and influence behind the great idea that we can’t make into reality.

However, what if you don’t get anything near what you went in asking for?

What if your primary agenda item never even gets on the table?

Would you still pray?

Acts 10…

Peter is hungry, and he’s got food on the brain–and we all know the feeling.  (I’m actually feeling it right now.)  Hungrily waiting for lunch to be ready, he enters a trance where a divine dialogue is awaiting him.  Topic?  Food.  Or so it seems.

Animals in a sheet get lowered down.  An invitation to eat is issued.  Peter declines as a matter of religious purity, and God tells him that nothing from His hand is impure.  Repeat this cycle over and over once more, and throw in another Creator-initiated conversation that’s happening to a stranger named Cornelius.

By the end of the story, Peter’s world has turned right over.  He went up on the roof just hungry for lunch.  He came down convicted of racism and hard-heartedness towards the plans of God.  How on earth did he set out for that first point but end up at that last point?  What was in the middle?  A conversation with the Master.

So I’m just saying…

Pray.

But pray carefully.

And I’d advise against going in with rigid expectations–you might just want a sandwich, and God might be waiting to unload the entire kitchen (including the sink… maybe especially the sink!) right on top of you.

A Good Kind of Whooping

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wrestlingHere’s a twist on the image we often use of wrestling with God.  Credit Simone Weil…

“Isn’t it the greatest possible disaster, when you are wrestling with God, not to be beaten?”

That’s worth a thought.

If you “win” in your struggle with God, what does that mean?

Your way is better?

He’s really a weaker God than the dust-man who just made Him tap out?

Or what?

I’m all for Greco-Romaning with God.  In fact, that description fits real life for me.  But I can’t help running with Ms. Simone’s thought: When the bell rings, the best possible outcome for me after ten rounds would be to come away with a bit of a whooping.

That’s not abuse; that’s just the reality of one man asking to feel the weight of the Heaviest Being around.  And you don’t get out of such meetings without some marks.