I am a kicker.
"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witness, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perserverance the race marked out before us." --Hebrews 12:1
I'm sure I have shared thoughts and feelings on this before, but just as, philosophically, you can't step in the same river twice, neither can we come to the Scripture the same way. We are fluid, changing, shifting, moving just like a river.
When I went home to witness first-hand the devastating defeat at the hands of the Buckeyes, I had an epiphany of sorts. It was then that I realized, in my current job, I am kicker. Actually, more like the kicking squad. Let me explain.
For the sake of this metaphor, the "kicking squad" is limited to 2 men on a 53-man roster in the pros and a bit larger in the college game. The "kicking squad" that I'm referring to are the place kicker and the punter. Usually the smaller and thinner guys on the team, the kicking squad is usually just an after-thought to the 245 lbs. Linebacker or the 6'4" QB with the "laser, rocket arm." This squad will spend very little time on the field of play, but the time they do spend there can have a huge impact. Sure, most of what these guys (and gals) do is an after-thought: add the extra point, get the game started, give the other team bad field position, etc. The punter is very rarely cheered when he appears on 4th down.
However, consider this: how crazy would it be to see the either kicker come out in last year's uniform? How much of a game-changer would it be to have the punter break the huddle on 4th and 2 inside the opponents 20 with the QB, because the punter just assumed that his team was punting on fourth down? How awkward would it be to see the kicker lazing on the sidelines will the rest of the team is lined up for the kick-off? In the grand scheme of things, extra points, punts and field goals are not that important. However, a last minute field goal can mean the diffference between victory and defeat; you can insert your favorite or worst memory here.
That being said, I don't run things around here like I did for a small part at St. Paul and St. Martin. I'm not expected to. I'm not the main effort, the key element of the logistical community in the Army. Very little that I do will directly win any war or put any medals on my chest. My role in a battalion is really quite tiny. Yet very important at the same, for I am the kicking squad.
When there's a big ceremony or celebration, I'm asked to "kick things off" with a prayer. When there's a problem that pops up over the weekend, I'm expected to respond and punt that puppy well out of our area of operation. When we work hard and "score," I'm there to put the ending on it with praises to God above. It's not necessarily game-changing but it's important.
So how silly do I feel when I show up in the wrong uniform or when I'm somewhere else because I didn't know what was going on? How dumb do I feel when I found out that I missed something because I wasn't reading from the same playbook? Without getting into specifics, this is what I feel like in what I am doing right now. I feel like the "damn fool kicker" who looks like he doesnt know what he's doing.
What makes it worse is that there is a "cloud of witnesses" watching while I wander about. One of the neatest things I ever saw at a game was a young couple wearing T-shirts that said, "Marcus Schnoor Fan Club." Marcus is a young man from DeWitt, Iowa, my hometown, who played for the University of Iowa but didn't see much action due to injuries and, well, not being all that great. Yet his friends were there at every game to watch. I like to think that all of us have a "cloud of witnesses" watching our every moves in our arena. Sure, we may not play much or we may not impact the game in any visible way, yet there are those people seated in the stands with T-shirts on declaring that they are in our fan club, even if it is just one person strong. It's for this one person, this lone individual, who has the guts to declare that he is in my fan club that I play the game for, no matter how small my role in the game may be.
I know there's at least one person in my fan club. He wears a T-shirt with my name on it. It's a T-shirt that cost Him dearly because it wasn't bought with money but with blood. Of all the great "cloud of witnesses" that watch what I do, there is one that never misses a game; His name is Jesus Christ. And even when I'm a damn fool kicker running around, not knowing where to go or what to do, screwing up my chance to be a great hero, He's jumping up and down in the stands, yelling and screaming his thorn-pierced head off, because I'm still in the game.
Jesus, I want so much to just go sit on the sidelines and pout and complain and give up. I'm so tired of looking like the fool, being in the wrong place at the wrong time, wearing the wrong uniform. But, Lord, if looking the fool makes your name known throughout my corner of the world, then so be it. Just give me the grace to forgive myself as I humiliate myself all day long, hopefully for your sake. Amen.
I'm sure I have shared thoughts and feelings on this before, but just as, philosophically, you can't step in the same river twice, neither can we come to the Scripture the same way. We are fluid, changing, shifting, moving just like a river.
When I went home to witness first-hand the devastating defeat at the hands of the Buckeyes, I had an epiphany of sorts. It was then that I realized, in my current job, I am kicker. Actually, more like the kicking squad. Let me explain.
For the sake of this metaphor, the "kicking squad" is limited to 2 men on a 53-man roster in the pros and a bit larger in the college game. The "kicking squad" that I'm referring to are the place kicker and the punter. Usually the smaller and thinner guys on the team, the kicking squad is usually just an after-thought to the 245 lbs. Linebacker or the 6'4" QB with the "laser, rocket arm." This squad will spend very little time on the field of play, but the time they do spend there can have a huge impact. Sure, most of what these guys (and gals) do is an after-thought: add the extra point, get the game started, give the other team bad field position, etc. The punter is very rarely cheered when he appears on 4th down.
However, consider this: how crazy would it be to see the either kicker come out in last year's uniform? How much of a game-changer would it be to have the punter break the huddle on 4th and 2 inside the opponents 20 with the QB, because the punter just assumed that his team was punting on fourth down? How awkward would it be to see the kicker lazing on the sidelines will the rest of the team is lined up for the kick-off? In the grand scheme of things, extra points, punts and field goals are not that important. However, a last minute field goal can mean the diffference between victory and defeat; you can insert your favorite or worst memory here.
That being said, I don't run things around here like I did for a small part at St. Paul and St. Martin. I'm not expected to. I'm not the main effort, the key element of the logistical community in the Army. Very little that I do will directly win any war or put any medals on my chest. My role in a battalion is really quite tiny. Yet very important at the same, for I am the kicking squad.
When there's a big ceremony or celebration, I'm asked to "kick things off" with a prayer. When there's a problem that pops up over the weekend, I'm expected to respond and punt that puppy well out of our area of operation. When we work hard and "score," I'm there to put the ending on it with praises to God above. It's not necessarily game-changing but it's important.
So how silly do I feel when I show up in the wrong uniform or when I'm somewhere else because I didn't know what was going on? How dumb do I feel when I found out that I missed something because I wasn't reading from the same playbook? Without getting into specifics, this is what I feel like in what I am doing right now. I feel like the "damn fool kicker" who looks like he doesnt know what he's doing.
What makes it worse is that there is a "cloud of witnesses" watching while I wander about. One of the neatest things I ever saw at a game was a young couple wearing T-shirts that said, "Marcus Schnoor Fan Club." Marcus is a young man from DeWitt, Iowa, my hometown, who played for the University of Iowa but didn't see much action due to injuries and, well, not being all that great. Yet his friends were there at every game to watch. I like to think that all of us have a "cloud of witnesses" watching our every moves in our arena. Sure, we may not play much or we may not impact the game in any visible way, yet there are those people seated in the stands with T-shirts on declaring that they are in our fan club, even if it is just one person strong. It's for this one person, this lone individual, who has the guts to declare that he is in my fan club that I play the game for, no matter how small my role in the game may be.
I know there's at least one person in my fan club. He wears a T-shirt with my name on it. It's a T-shirt that cost Him dearly because it wasn't bought with money but with blood. Of all the great "cloud of witnesses" that watch what I do, there is one that never misses a game; His name is Jesus Christ. And even when I'm a damn fool kicker running around, not knowing where to go or what to do, screwing up my chance to be a great hero, He's jumping up and down in the stands, yelling and screaming his thorn-pierced head off, because I'm still in the game.
Jesus, I want so much to just go sit on the sidelines and pout and complain and give up. I'm so tired of looking like the fool, being in the wrong place at the wrong time, wearing the wrong uniform. But, Lord, if looking the fool makes your name known throughout my corner of the world, then so be it. Just give me the grace to forgive myself as I humiliate myself all day long, hopefully for your sake. Amen.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home