Five fumbles. Three interceptions. One turnover on downs and a blocked punt.
And we won.
That’s why football is better than figure skating and high diving… because you can be far from pretty and still win. All I want to see is I learn (and I mean quickly) how to protect that ball.
That said, I admit that I was expecting a loss to open the season. But amidst the turnovers, I saw some good stuff: An offense that got the job done, a Darian Durant who would have had a very solid game with one or two mistakes taken back, Congi is money again, and feistier defensive line than we’ve seen in a while. Nine sacks. NINE… in a game! There were months last year that we didn’t register nine sacks. Our running game wasn’t anything to brag about, but it was enough to keep BC’s defense honest, and it will climb as Cates and Makowsky return.
Overall, 1-0 looks good in what some of us fear could be a bit of rebuilding year. Keep fighting, boys, and we just might surprise some folks this season.
I woke up at 4:00 this morning. Prior to that, I woke up a couple other times with those ahhh-did-I-sleep-in-and-miss-my-flight jumpy twitches.
But I didn’t. So I just got up and ready.
In the Regina airport, I crossed paths with pretty much the whole BC Lions team. Would you believe me if I told you that 42 professional football players can be spotted in an average Canadian prairie airport without the use of any special surveillance equipment?
Then I bumped into Coach Buono himself.
I had my Rider jacket on. He had his Lion look on. Our eyes met; no words necessary. I wanted to say, “Hey Wally, how’d Mosaic Stadium treat you last night?” But I decided just to silently nod.
You know I love you, Wally. And I hope your cholesterol is still down—the CFL would never be the same without you.
But I do hope the east side made you feel welcome last night.
That’s the name of a conference I’m headed to this weekend.
Sunday morning will be a chance to worship with the Mars Hill community, and then the conference will run until Tuesday.
Quite honestly, I’d kind of like to stay home because home feels pretty good right now. But I’m not complaining about opportunities to take advantage of either, so I’m going and I’m intent on absorbing all that I can.
As I’ve said earlier, I’m teaching a series on prayer these days. From within the pile of material and preparation filling my time has come a realization–when we enter conversation with God, odds are good it’s not going to play out how we envisioned. I know, that could be discomforting because most of the time, we approach God with an idea that we’re pretty certain is a great idea. We take it to Him, in the hopes that He’ll buy in and put His superior power and influence behind the great idea that we can’t make into reality.
However, what if you don’t get anything near what you went in asking for?
What if your primary agenda item never even gets on the table?
Would you still pray?
Acts 10…
Peter is hungry, and he’s got food on the brain–and we all know the feeling. (I’m actually feeling it right now.) Hungrily waiting for lunch to be ready, he enters a trance where a divine dialogue is awaiting him. Topic? Food. Or so it seems.
Animals in a sheet get lowered down. An invitation to eat is issued. Peter declines as a matter of religious purity, and God tells him that nothing from His hand is impure. Repeat this cycle over and over once more, and throw in another Creator-initiated conversation that’s happening to a stranger named Cornelius.
By the end of the story, Peter’s world has turned right over. He went up on the roof just hungry for lunch. He came down convicted of racism and hard-heartedness towards the plans of God. How on earth did he set out for that first point but end up at that last point? What was in the middle? A conversation with the Master.
So I’m just saying…
Pray.
But pray carefully.
And I’d advise against going in with rigid expectations–you might just want a sandwich, and God might be waiting to unload the entire kitchen (including the sink… maybe especially the sink!) right on top of you.
Here’s a twist on the image we often use of wrestling with God. Credit Simone Weil…
“Isn’t it the greatest possible disaster, when you are wrestling with God, not to be beaten?”
That’s worth a thought.
If you “win” in your struggle with God, what does that mean?
Your way is better?
He’s really a weaker God than the dust-man who just made Him tap out?
Or what?
I’m all for Greco-Romaning with God. In fact, that description fits real life for me. But I can’t help running with Ms. Simone’s thought: When the bell rings, the best possible outcome for me after ten rounds would be to come away with a bit of a whooping.
That’s not abuse; that’s just the reality of one man asking to feel the weight of the Heaviest Being around. And you don’t get out of such meetings without some marks.
This illustration is actually begging to be used… but it just doesn’t fit any of my remaining lessons. So to the blog-cave…
“I think prayer is analogous to sex. (People’s ears always perk up when I say that.) Most people would complain about their sex lives; a few do really well. Sex and prayer are intimate and over-glamorized relationships. We all are led to believe that we should be in the stratosphere in sex and in prayer. It sets up a false expectation. And breaks down intimacy.”
The lady who wrote that later spent several months in Africa, which forced her into a slower pace. From that place, she added to her notes…
“Again, similar to sex, when we are so busy and filled with the cacophony of life, it is hard to relax, be quiet and communicate.”
And in case the analogy still isn’t clicking for you, Philip Yancy chimes in with a few further thoughts…
“As I thought about her unlikely analogy, it occurred to me that reading a book about prayer has some parallels to reading a sex manual. What sounds so thrilling on paper bears little resemblance to how sex usually plays out between two vulnerable people who approach it with very different expectations. Like sex, prayer centers in relationship more than in technique, and the differences between the two parties in prayer are far more profound than the differences between two lovers. Should it surprise us that problems arise”
P.S. I generally like to brighten up my posts with some relevant pictures. I thought it best not even to think about Googling anything for this particular post. So what you see is what you get this time.
There’s little that is sweeter than having a baby fall asleep in your arms. It’s simply a feeling that lights you up in hard-to-describe ways. It’s something about their peace and coziness lying there. You feel their warmth and softness, and you’re sure you could put off whatever else you thought you needed to do. Why not just stay here?
Peter Rollins talks about a baby in our arms as being a good starting image for understanding God. Even long before a baby can register two cents’ worth of facts about the one holding them, they are being shaped by the holding.
Or as Rollins says it…
“We are like an infant in the arms of God, unable to grasp but being transformed by the grasp.”
For some reason, today, I really like that sentence.
I got sick last week. Let’s call it the flu, and judging from the way it hit me, it definitely had a number of some sort behind its name. That was the bad part.
The good part was that my sick time led to my viewing of this fantastic movie. Seriously, it has immediately placed itself into my Top Ten list. That list doesn’t actually exist in an official form, but I know that this movie is on it.
Quick disclaimer before you run to rent this beauty, based on my recommendation: There is a LOT of language in it. Its setting is a troubled inner-city neighbourhood, and between the gang-talk and the racist tirades of the main character, there’s no end to the verbal colouring. So that’s what keeps me from an open recommendation. That said, however, this is still the easiest “two thumbs up” that I’ve given in quite a while. I get so tired of the disappointment that most movies bring with them that this one, about which I had little to no expectations, has been like a breath of fresh air to me. Add to that a great story, and I’m simply reveling in the pleasure of a great movie complete with some serious Asian culture content, some fantastic dialogue, and a downright powerful storyline. I could describe more specifically, but I’m not intent on playing the spoiler.
If you need more, ask for it. If you need a great view (and only if your ears can handle it), then youmay have found your next flick.
I was out a few times today on this warm Saturday and noticed a couple things that made me smile.
An old truck was on the Ring Road. It had wooden walls on the sides of its box to hold a whole heap of garbage bags. The homemade walls were painted up green and white with Rider slogans all over. I pulled past the driver to see him fully decked in his gear. Rider green shirt and hat to boot.
A few blocks later, I pulled up to a light alongside a car flying two Rider flags flying out the windows. Who’s in the car? Two old fellows (both could have been 80!).
So why the “green-ness” all over town, you ask? A playoff push? Game day?
Nope.
It’s training camp. Haven’t even got the roster nailed down yet.
I woke up at 4:00 this morning. Prior to that, I woke up a couple other times with those ahhh-did-I-sleep-in-and-miss-my-flight jumpy twitches.
There’s little that is sweeter than having a baby fall asleep in your arms. It’s simply a feeling that lights you up in hard-to-describe ways. It’s something about their peace and coziness lying there. You feel their warmth and softness, and you’re sure you could put off whatever else you thought you needed to do. Why not just stay here?
I was out a few times today on this warm Saturday and noticed a couple things that made me smile.
