sportsmanship

He lost. He let me win, allowed me to spit in His face while I rounded the bases to victory. Again and again I look upon Him with scorn, though at times I do understand what love really means. Much more of the time I'm captivated in myself, in my victory - that though the show of grace should be enough, I find myself wanting much more. Too often, I am dissatisfied with simply knowing Him, and I discover how little I actually know Him.

He lost. He lost so that I could win. He cared nothing for His own victory, only cared that I'd be in the right place. He endured feeling forsaken so that I might not have to feel forsaken... and many a time, I am utterly surprised to find that I was forsaken at all. I am too caught up in myself, too caught up in what I must do, how many times I have to confess, how many times I have to pray... when sometimes all it takes is to trust.

To trust that no matter how many of the billions of people in this world know of my screw-ups, that I am still victorious. That though the scoreboard may proclaim that I am a loser, at least I lost with my heart in the arms of someone who cares. I find myself a winner, not because I have scored more, not because I have been a terrific sportsman, but because someone else has done all that for me to help me realize that life is not about the score, it is about the people.

Central Washington offers the ultimate act of sportsmanship