Zeal!

     The sun settled down behind the western stands leaving a soft pink, orange, purple goodbye glow. Two teams, one in crimson, black, and gray the other in white, blue, and gold engaged in gladiatorial conflict over a leather ovoid while several thousand roaring spectators urged their favorites on. As the last remnants of the day slipped away stars came out to witness as the contest played out on a field of green. Yes, fall has returned to West Texas bringing Friday Night Lights with all its attendant pageantry.

     I enjoy football. When I attended high school I played passable defensive end…at least in the rose tinted cinema of my memory. I earned my varsity letter my freshman year, a tattered feat I bring out with regularity. I follow the NFL, enjoy college, and occasionally attend my nephew’s games. Oh, and by the by, they exhibit much greater athletic prowess than I ever did; not that I’m proud or anything. In an odd sort of way, football provides a glue that binds many disparate small school communities into one loud boisterous whole. Musicians, moms, pom-pom girls, flag wavers, coaches, dads (secretly cherishing hope and fear), even the police and ambulance drivers get in on the act, all coming together to urge their favorites on. For many, the entire year orbits these few weeks. We gather together, loudly cheering, occasionally feeling disappointment, and enjoying intense pride when our particular one does well.

     My sister (sister-in-law really but I never liked that particular differential phrase), Tiffany exhibits intense pride in her sons. Asher and Braedon play defense, very good defense. During the game last

night there were multiple goal-line stands which required their intense effort. We sat together in the Robinson Commemorative Clump. Tiffany totes a rather large bag, nearing rucksack size, to each game. Inside you will find all the accouterments needed to adequately cheer on your favorite team, Frenship Tigers in this case…no I did not misspell that. From within her bag of holding she drew out a steady stream of blue and gold items; a blanket, sport jacket, and cowbell to name a few. Properly prepared she set about to cheer her sons on. No one provides more support than Tiffany. Zeal and joy propel her to cheer, scream, jump and shout. Once after a particularly good play she doffed her jacket and danced in the stands displaying a bedazzled jersey with the name Robinson in rhinestones. Near the end of the game when Frenship defense held during a particularly important and successful goal-line stand I had to duck repeatedly lest she clobber me with her cowbell. Nearly falling off the stands she loudly proclaimed, “When you need it done, call on the Robinson boys!”

     Tiffany loves her sons with complete and reckless abandon. She fully gives herself over to the moment, enraptured by the sight of Braedon and Asher performing well on the field. In those moments she reflects an aspect of the true nature of God. We tend to view god as some distant being who carefully manages the universe, smoothly, unruffled by mere common events below. And to be sure, nothing surprises God or catches Him off guard. But that does not mean He’s unaffected by His children. Like Tiffany, God displays great zeal toward His children. The dictionary defines zeal as, “fervor for a person, cause, or object; eager desire or endeavor; enthusiastic diligence; ardor.” Multiple times in Isaiah, the prophet remarks that the “zeal of the Lord will do this,” when speaking about the coming messiah, salvation, and the comfort of Israel, His people.

     God does not sit on some ethereal plain, remote and detached from our existence. Salvation was not an afterthought, a plan B whipped out in desperation. No God, like Tiffany, is passionate where His children are concerned. He displays enthusiastic diligence about our existence and salvation. When things go well He rejoices with reckless abandon. And, also like Tiffany, when He sees things go badly for us; say when life gives us a bad call, He does not appreciate it. He loves you and I more completely than we know. He wears our colors…well we really wear his, but you get the point. He cheers us on, saying, “Hey did you see that! That’s MY SON! That’s MY DAUGHTER!”