Therefore encourage one another and build one another up, just as you are doing. 1 Thessalonians 5:11
Saturday morning bright and early a small but determined group of boys in matching orange t-shirts stride into the gym, arms swinging, shoulders back, heads held high.
They pause at the row of chairs that rim the court to change their shoes and dig water bottles out of their duffel bags. The man in the black and white striped shirt gives them a five minute warning. The squeak of tennis shoes and the twang of basketballs fills they gym.
One small boy dribbles the ball ferociously, face intense with concentration. He trots toward the basket, building speed as he goes. The basket nears. At the last moment he leaps into the air, heaving the ball upward with all his might. His eyes are big and brown as they follow its path, his thin chest heaving from exertion. The ball arcs up, up . . . and then drops to the court, missing the hoop completely. The small boy raises a fist and lets out a whoop. It has been his best shot ever.
A third and fourth grade basketball game can be an...entertaining experience.
The boys worked so hard. And they were so very sweet. And so full of mistakes.
They blocked their own teammates. They ran toward the wrong basket. They picked up the ball and carried it, without dribbling, half way down the court before passing it to a player on the other team. They launched the ball at the hoop, missing by a mile.
The grownups sitting around the edge of the court alternated between grinning at the boys' antics and hollering encouragements. We rooted for all of them, our own sons and each of their teammates, and even the other team sometimes. It didn't matter how well the boys played. We were on their side, applauding their small successes and telling them they were doing great.
The coaches, a pair of bright-eyed high school girls, yelled instructions to the boys. They called time-outs and gave pep talks and made sure the tuckered players were able to take a drink of water when they needed it.
And then there was the referee. He was an amiable young man, maybe in his mid-twenties. Based on the number of mistakes the players made he could have been blowing his whistle practically non-stop. Instead, he was oh-so gracious with those little boys. He overlooked error after error. Sometimes he would take a player aside for a moment and explain some small rule or offer a shooting tip. He handled the game with good humor and kindness.
The boys made mistakes, and lots of them. But they didn't shrink with embarrassment. They just played with all their heart. They knew the people around them were on their side, no matter what.
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Despite my most earnest efforts, I mess up. A lot. At pretty much everything. And you know what? I'm okay with that. After all, we all mess up, don't we? In all sorts of ways. We miss our goals, forget who is on our team, and shoot at the wrong hoop. It's part of playing the game.
Sometimes I'm afraid that my mistake will result in a chorus of giggles from the sidelines. I'm sure those who know me best must sometimes be amused by how often and how consistently I make the same old slip-ups.
Of course, maybe they won't just giggle. Maybe they'll be annoyed. Or angry. Maybe, I think, my many messups will cause those who love me to not love me so much.
But somehow, no matter how great a blundering oaf I may be, the people around me keep cheering.
My husband. My kids. My friends. My co-workers. Even though they are around to witness my most embarrassing moments, they are my sideline encouragers. They tell me I'm doing good, give me pep talks and share wise advice, and forgive me my imperfections, over and over. Bless their hearts, they see all my goofs, and they love me anyway.
Encouragement is contagious. When we are accepted, warts and all, by the people around us, we are freed to accept them, too. We, too, can be someone's cheering section. And as they care for us and we care for them, as we all play our games and make our mistakes and forgive and are forgiven, we are pictures of God to each other.
When my kid gives me a hug and tells me I'm a good mom even though I burned the grilled cheese sandwiches again, that's a glimpse of God. When I help the man at the grocery store pick up the cans he knocked over, I'm showing him a smidgeon of our Creator's affection for His people.
We constantly give God reason to blow the whistle at us and toss us out of the game. Instead, He looks at us with kind, forgiving eyes. Jesus came as man because through Him God accepted man, just as we are, blunders and all. Instead of rejecting us He bends over us, teaching us His way, helping our aim be sure.
Today, as you stride into your day, throw your head back. Straighten your shoulders. You have a game to play. And a cheering section that's on your side. And a God who put His name on your t-shirt. How can you possibly lose?
First published in The Alpena News, February 6, 2016.
