It’s an odd way to experience an epiphany. But it begins with my penchant for playing fantasy football. I’ve been part of a free fantasy football league for several years. I play it just for fun. For those not familiar with the wonder that is fantasy football, a simple definition from Wikipedia (the free on-line encyclopedia) states: “Fantasy Football is a fantasy sports game in which participants (called “owners”) each draft or acquire via auction a team of real-life NFL players and then score points based on those players’ statistical performance on the field.” Being an owner of a fantasy football team is both exhilarating and excruciating for me. Being an Atlanta Falcons and Tennessee Titans fan, I can’t simply follow those teams on game day. I must check on ALL the teams who have “my players.” Sunday being the Lord’s Day — and as a pastor, a work day — I can’t always keep track of all the NFL games. So on Monday morning — my family’s Sabbath day — I catch up and check on the scores of my team. My wife often walks in early on a Monday morning to see me sitting at the computer: “What are you doing?” she asks. “Oh just checking on my fantasy football team,” I respond. Her eyes roll and she moves on to take care of more important things. I know full well my little hobby is silly, pointless, a waste of time in most eyes. But I love it … and hate it. For “my team” can play like supermen one week (that’s the point at which I declare, “I’m going to cruise and win the whole league this year!”). And the next week I lose by fifty points or more (at which point I declaim, “Why in the world do I waste my time and energy on this mess?”).
So now that I’ve given you the background on the whole fantasy football thing (and by the way, if you are apt to question me on this little hobby, I’ll thank you to allow me a little play … we all need play), I’ll move closer to the mini-epiphany to which I alluded. I stumbled across the following article at the Sacred Sandwich: “‘Fantasy Church’ Champion Will Not Win This Season; Drafts Old Baptist Pastor By Mistake.” The article is a satirical look at church growth strategies. You can read the entire article by clicking here, and you might want to do so as it will help in understanding my thoughts. Despite the quite funny nature of the article (at least funny to me with my critiquing sense of humor), there is something quite gripping near the end of the article. After explaining how the “owner” of a “fantasy church” championship team the year previous had meant to draft the church growth guru Richard D. Warren (Rick Warren) but instead drafted Richard B. Warren, an aging small-town pastor of a small church, the “reporter” interviews the wife of the surprised but newly drafted old pastor. The wife, Vera, responds: “My husband’s congregation loves the Lord with all their hearts and truly loves their neighbors as themselves. There isn’t one corner of our small community that hasn’t been shown our church’s active witness for Christ and His Gospel and been prayed for year in and year out. That ought to help [the fantasy church owner] win another championship I would think.” When told that church growth success was based purely on numbers, Vera remarks, “Well, that’s the stupidest thing I ever heard.”
Are you ready for the realization? Here is this small church in a small town with a pastor who (for many years apparently) has shaped his parishioners to simply love God and love their neighbors, and in the eyes of the congregations that matter — and their leaders — this church is a laughingstock. In the satirical article we aren’t given a perspective from the make-believe community around the small church. But I would guess their take on the importance of that church might be different. Here is what is fully dawning on me: if I follow what Christ said was the essence of the Scripture, if my focal concerns are loving God and loving people, and I live this out consistently in my life, as the spiritual leader in my home, as the spiritual leader of my parish, as a stranger in the community-at-large, then I will never be on the best-selling Christian book list, never be asked to preach at really large conventions, never be “somebody” in the church world. Because truly living out the gospel isn’t glamorous, isn’t always fun, isn’t frankly popular in many church and denominational circles in America.
You know what . . . just as soon as that realization has sunk in, I have another: it doesn’t matter. It actually eases the tension and clarifies the purpose for loving God and loving people with everything I am and everything I have. I think such a life might just please my Lord. And if God is the only one who appreciates it, that’s enough. Stephen was stoned by the religious elite. If I can follow in that saint and martyr’s example, I think I’ll be just fine.
To the not-yet believers whose lives I am a small part of, I hope to be Jesus to them (and let them be Jesus to me!). And if it doesn’t win me notoriety, so what! It’s the gospel.