<![CDATA[RICKTESTAMENT - Ricktestament Blog]]>

<![CDATA[RICKTESTAMENT - Ricktestament Blog]]>Mon, 09 Sep 2024 14:36:10 -0700Weebly<![CDATA[DAY TO DAY ADVENTURE]]>Sat, 07 Sep 2024 20:17:10 GMThttp://ricktestament.com/ricktestament-blog/day-to-day-adventure

Recently I watched the adventure film Magnetic, a combination of big wave surfing, high risk skiing, parasailing and other hair on fire sports. With the filmmakers’ POV camera work, we of the audience see and feel the athletes “pursuit of their extreme forms of bliss (the film’s subtitle),” ensuring we are tearing down the slope or wave along with the participants.

I appreciated this visceralness because God knows I’m way too chicken to try this stuff myself. And since I’m 68, my hair was fired years ago. What attracts me is the allure of watching others do what I can’t (or won’t), the vicarious excitement of having a thrill ride without the actual ride.

It’s not just the derring do that captivates me, it’s the sense of adventure that goes with it. As opposed to some who write off extreme sports athletes as adrenaline junkies, I respect their desire to challenge themselves and live on the edge. And it’s not just the physical courage I respect, it’s the spiritual desire to go beyond boundaries, to face their fears.

Which I’m not too old for. Hopefully. I want to believe that living life as an adventure is not beyond me at this point, that my advanced age isn’t somehow relegating me to life’s sidelines. Since I think all of us were made for adventure (“that they may have life, and have it more abundantly” John 10:10), I’d hate to think I’d be spending my evening years suffering from adventure FOMO.

So what to do? Take some trips? Learn some hobbies? Volunteer? I still compete in tennis and work part-time, so I can throw myself into those things. But I also wonder: do I need to do something exciting and “out there” to find adventure in my life? Could I find mountaintop experiences without the mountaintop? Is there such a thing as the adventure of day to day? A way to rise above the drabness and banalities? Do I really need to go away, or put myself in harm’s way, just to live a day to day that is more accessible and yet just as challenging?

These are interesting, even spiritual questions. I tend to think my day to day life can be an adventure if I’m being led by Someone who knows what the essence of true living is all about. If it’s up to me, I’m living the cautious life of the road most traveled. I put it in God’s hands, and look out.

Potentially. Understanding God’s will and doing it moment by moment is obviously something that has to be cultivated from a discernment and willingness standpoint. That being said, there is something very exciting about letting go and letting God on a daily basis.

This adventure is not getting away from the mundane but reveling in its nuances. I feel led to call a friend instead of checking off an item in my to do list--I do it. I’m in a rush but feel an inkling to return a street person’s smile--I follow it. Every corpuscle in my body wants to distract myself from writing but I decide to face the blank page. My wife and I cautiously circumnavigate each other for days after an argument but I brake the ice by saying I’m sorry. I get an interior impression I’m supposed to sit there and do nothing so I sit there and do nothing, even if I’m unsure what the benefit is.

Small stuff.

This day to day, moment by moment adventure idea is not a new one and has been touted in church circles for centuries. But it’s easier said than done. I’ve often asked myself why don’t I embrace this kind of daily adventure more often. Habit, assuredly, but a habit born out of fear of the unknown. God in charge means I’m not, and it seems I can’t go for more than a few minutes before I wrest control of the little things out of His hands. But I find if I stick in there a bit, I almost always experience 1) the day is different than I expected and 2) it is better (deeper, more satisfying, even more fun).

There is an excitement and focus when our lives are not our own. As exciting as careening down the face of a mighty mountain? Probably not, but when we allow the mountaintop to be moved into the valley of our daily decisions and experiences, we can have a type of adventure which can be just as profound.

“Each day a first day, each day a life. One with your task, whole in your duty of the moment.”
Dag Hammarskjold

]]><![CDATA[They Call Me Coach]]>Fri, 06 Sep 2024 22:09:20 GMThttp://ricktestament.com/ricktestament-blog/they-call-me-coach

Near the end of his historic run as the basketball coach of the UCLA Bruins, John Wooden wrote the book They Call Me Coach, one of the best-selling books by a coach in sports history. While extolling the virtues of hard work, commitment and teamwork, Wooden also discusses what it means to be a coach, concentrating on what he learned from his father about the roles of teacher and leader.

They also call me coach at Sequim High in Sequim, Washington, a small city on the Olympic Peninsula. I’m no Coach Wooden, but I am Coach Grant, a name I find appealing, especially when given with the respect my tennis players use it with. In fact, I can think of no other title I’d rather have.

What is a coach? Outside of a teacher and leader a coach is a mentor, a motivator, a role model, a mediator, a perspective giver, a communicator of values, a humorist, and even sometimes a babysitter. He or she is charged with the overall task of winning and the means to that end, even when that winning may have to be redefined in terms of reaching potential and trying their best.

If one were to think of coaches the way they are often portrayed in the media, you might envision a highly overpaid, overbearing micromanager who can sometimes morph into a sexual predator. Like any profession or role, there are good coaches and bad coaches, but the vast majority are giving, caring, individuals who are mostly overworked and underpaid (or a volunteer like myself—not paid at all).

Whether coaches toil in the boondocks or the boom towns, they are a seamless part of the fabric of their community. The need is massive: schools and leagues (youth, church, adult) in a large variety of sports all need coaches, coaches who know what they’re doing, coaches who care. Ask young adults from these towns who influenced their lives the most, and you will often hear stories about a coach.

This was certainly true of my experience. Coming like a whirlwind into my grammar school when I was in the 7th grade was the aptly named Vince Lombardo (not Lombardi, Lombardo), a social science teacher and coach who had an unmistakable imprint on my life. Beyond the fact I majored in history in college and have become a coach myself, my interests, my mannerisms, the way I deal with other men—all can be traced back to Mr. Lombardo at Corpus Christi Grammar School.

What effect am I having with my tennis guys at Sequim High? There are days when the 50 years of age difference weighs on both them and me, me of the “yes sir!” generation and them not exactly asking “how high?” when I say jump. But they know I’m concerned about their tennis and their lives, and I can see in their eyes something real is happening.

Recently when someone asked me what image best described my relationship with God, I spontaneously answered Coach, not sure exactly why I responded that way. As I thought about it, my Coach God is not only someone who loves me but also asks something of me, someone who cares but also wants me to do my best.

That’s a coach, and a coach is a high calling indeed. To help give direction, to be there during the highs and lows, to just…be there. And even though I may not be the “Wizard of Westwood” or even the “Sultan of Sequim,” I am Coach Grant, and hope to be able to live up to that lofty title.

]]><![CDATA[Begin Again]]>Sat, 02 May 2020 18:21:03 GMThttp://ricktestament.com/ricktestament-blog/begin-again

Like many CV-19 housebound inmates, my wife and I have walked the slippery slope between fear and boredom, careening between blood curdling updates and yawn inducing repeats. Without the intervention of some creative alternative, we might end up going stir crazy without the stir.

After considering options, we decided on something guaranteed to shake the paranoia and rust from our brains. We went on a date. But not just any date, a first date. Again. But not just reenacting our first date, but an “acting as if we’d never met before” first date.

We played it to the hilt. My wife curled her hair, and I bedecked dashingly, actually wearing a collared shirt. We kept apart in the afternoon, and at the appointed 5:00pm I rang the front door bell. We both later admitted being nervous. I got more nervous when seeing how beautiful she looked, although she also later admitted the collar gave her goosebumps. We introduced ourselves.

But now what? We could stay home, all dressed up with nowhere to go, or we could go drive into the teeth of the pandemic. OK, we live in Sequim, which is more like Covid’s baby toe, but we did know their wasn’t much open in our shutdown town besides a few spring cherry blossoms.

We ventured out anyway. Able to score some take-out burgers and beer and already intoxicated by our derring do, we decided to dine on the decidedly closed first tee of the Cedars at Dungeness golf course, limboing under the “Do Not Trespass” tape. The beer and burgers tasted good, and the view up the tree-lined first fairway was even more delicious.

Waiting for security to apprehend us at any moment, we continued to get to know each other. Surprisingly, we found the “where did you grow up” questions were even more interesting when we knew the answers. Sometimes the old answers led to new revelations. And thank God, at the end we reaffirmed we were both keepers.

Basking in the afterglow at home later that evening, I began to think the “acting as if we’d never met before” attitude could have some ongoing merit. We think we know our mates; we also know we are just scratching the surface. Maybe having a Beginner’s Mind toward each other could be more than just a way to wade through the virus.

And has this virus done more than just wreak havoc through the land? For those of us seemingly surviving, the answer can be yes. The adventure and romance of our Sequim soiree didn’t happen in a vacuum. Hopefully all of us can find times where putting on our masks can lead to taking them off.

]]><![CDATA[Suicide]]>Thu, 23 Jan 2020 01:28:48 GMThttp://ricktestament.com/ricktestament-blog/suicide

My friend from church killed himself.

When I heard about it, my initial instinct was to suppress the news, calling on a coping mechanism I’ve cultivated to steel myself against what disturbs me. But suicide isn’t suppressible. I was too sad, and too stunned he made the choice or felt he had no other.

A person dying is a tragedy--a suicide is a tragedy with profound questions. Steve suffered from clinical depression for years but had availed himself to the best theories and practices of the medical, psychological, and church communities. Why wasn’t it enough? Steve was married with children and grandchildren; how could he knowingly remove himself from their lives?

Far be it for me or anyone to cast aspersions: we all know life sometimes hangs by a thread. Our pain and disillusionments pound at our souls so that the question isn’t so much why some do but why more don’t. I’ve certainly thought of suicide before--not so much with a plan or ideation but as a way to cope when life gets too disheartening. I’m sure one of the reasons I felt compelled to attend Steve’s memorial was to sort through these feelings.

As it turned out more about 150 people gathered a few weeks after his suicide to “celebrate” his life without forgetting how he ended it. There was irony with the grief: when not plagued by depression, Steve had a genuine joie de vivre, a passion about God, sports, surfing and doing Mick Jagger imitations. His brother described him as both a great leader and follower, a unique combination of traits. And this big lug could hug--he’d put his arms around you and after gasping for air you’d check how your vertebrae was doing.

With these recollections our smiles put a salve on our woundedness but the tears still flowed. Thankfully so: grieving was needed and welcomed`and cultivated, never so much as when a slideshow paraded a lifetime of pictures showing Steve expressing his exuberance. Steve’s sister and brothers and three children all courageously spoke about missing that Steve, along with searching for perspective on the life he chose not to continue.

After the memorial I found myself asking: how could God have allowed this to happen? The Bible says we won’t be “tempted beyond what he was able,”; wasn’t this beyond beyond? There is no doubt Steve and his family and friends had prayed tens of thousands of times for healing to a God they believe loved him and would protect him. Where was that God?

In the midst of this, I believe. Somewhere within the mystery of free will and life on life’s terms and the pain Steve was experiencing was God. My lack of comprehension may lead to a fallback of fault finding (isn’t it enough to say he courageously fought the disease of Clinical Depression and leave it at that?); He who knows more and judges less can bring everything together for good.

When Corrie Ten Boom’s sister Betsie lay dying at Ravensbruck concentration camp at the end of World War II, she said: “We must tell people that no pit is so deep that He is not deeper still.”
I may not have answers to all my questions on suicide, but the One who does can ensure that Steve didn’t live in vain and that nothing can separate us from Him.

]]><![CDATA[Golfing with God]]>Sat, 09 Nov 2019 18:02:47 GMThttp://ricktestament.com/ricktestament-blog/golfing-with-god

Where is God?

In my my lifelong search for God (and He for me), we have met or tried to meet in a plethora of places. What’s nice about hanging with God is He doesn’t have that awkward time and space boundary limiting other relationships, which certainly opens up the playing field. And the playing field we’ve sometimes met is the golf course.

Distractions (fellow golfers, my own sucky golf game) can sometimes limit our course communion, but no such impediments occurred recently when I was played golf twice alone. Not just without a foursome; in both instances I was the only player on the course throughout my round.

One of these rounds was at the Thompson Falls Golf Course in Montana; the other at the Orofino Country Club on the Nez Perce reservation in Idaho. As you might imagine, the fall scenery in both locales was stunning: cottonwood trees bedecked with the reds, oranges, and yellows of autumn surrounded by panoramas of sun drenched mountains.

In other words--God’s country. And God’s creatures were also on display with deer, ducks and even turkeys crossing my path and sometimes occupying the greens I was targeting (the way I played, they hardly felt threatened). And when I showed up at the Orofino course, a small kitten adopted me, jumping into my arms as I put my golf shoes on and intercepting my putts on the practice green.

So you could say I really wasn’t alone--God was with me. His Handiwork was on hand, communicating His Presence through His creation and creatures. Who could miss it? We were really playing a twosome, with me hitting the shots and He providing the scenery.

With all this grandeur you’d think I’d be embracing some kind of visio divina (prayer of the eyes), or at least a runneth over cup (like my putts). But for some reason I felt an uneasiness, even a dissatisfaction. Why? Was I being spiritually greedy?

I think it had more to do with where I am in life right now. Being in the late Autumn of my own earthly sojourn, I feel a desire to experience God as directly as possible. Whispering in the wind can be nice and all but I’m somehow wanting more of a face to face with God the Father than some cheek kissing by Mother Nature. Anything wrong with wanting something more tangible and transcendent

Usually, yes. God has His reasons for keeping the megaphone off his still small voice, many of which are beyond my comprehension. I may want a skywritten HERE I AM! or at least a GOOD SHOT RICK! but that doesn’t seem to be His way. And the latter would’ve been disingenuous anyway as the mundane of many many missed shots overtook the sublime of my spiritual quest.

This experience with God turned out like many experiences with God: compelling, intriguing and yet disappointing and leaving me asking for more. The mystery of God and the mystery of me leaves life......mysterious. So I’m on to the next course, looking for God and having life play itself out.

]]><![CDATA[Grieving the Ungrieved]]>Mon, 14 Jan 2019 18:55:12 GMThttp://ricktestament.com/ricktestament-blog/grieving-the-ungrieved

Lisa Schneider. Hans-Ulrich Santmann. Andrea After Buffalo. Gary Bowman. Luciano Salvador Placido. Caroline Lange. Kevin “Puppet” Raile. Robin Hughes. Brian Johnson.

On November 8th the Mass in Remembrance of the Deceased Homeless in Seattle occurred at St. James Cathedral, a mass given each year in conjunction with All Souls Day.

Delilah Hernandez. Chad Jones. Meles Gebreberhan. Kay De Witt Matteson. Douglas Ross. Sour Nou. Jacob DeMasters. Patrick Power. Roxy Baker. Maurice McCorkle. Jessica Wy.

209 homeless people have died in the Seattle area since the previous year’s Mass, an increase of almost 80% from the year before. Some died on the street. Some died in shelters or hospitals. Some committed suicide. Some were killed.

Nicholas Runningfisher. John Ballash III. Xavier-Alexis Garay. Kelly James. Leanne Foley.
Mohammed Karshe. Anna Klimchuk. Justin Schoemacher. Dianna Bancale. Dennis Mooney.

The congregants sang of the “Holy City, where tears are wiped from eyes.” The priest talked about the homelessness of Christ.

Perphecious Winslow-Castro. Gary Oliver. Enkhtaivan Zagdsuren. Bobby Lee Oxford Jr. Sabrina Tate. Trent Jackson. Billie Jo Bresnahan. Jose Ramirez Ocampos. Ashlyn Bartlett.

The last name on the bulletin list of the 209 who died was Brian Kingsolver. The question of “solving” the problem of people dying in the streets was in the air...but left there on this evening. The focus was on telling and grieving the people whose stories were often not told or grieved.

Mohammed Karshe. Alex Norton. Diana “Dani” Wyatt. Judah Corsini. April Korosec. Gregory Fields. Egnacio Marino. Angela Gulliford. Dyan Stensrud. Jeffrey Counts.

As Mass finished, the Cathedral Bagpiper led the congregation out the door into the courtyard. The priest read out each name as the Cathedral funeral bell tolled continuously. He concluded with: “May they rest in peace.”

Amen.

]]><![CDATA[Yes]]>Mon, 14 Jan 2019 18:24:53 GMThttp://ricktestament.com/ricktestament-blog/yes

“Every time you make a choice you are turning the central part of you, the part of you that chooses, into something a little different from what it was before. And taking your life as a whole, with all your innumerable choices, all your life long you are slowly turning this central thing into a heavenly creature or a hellish creature: either into a creature which is in harmony with God, with other creatures, and with itself, or else into one that is in a state of war and hatred with God, and with its fellow creatures, and with itself.”
C.S. Lewis

Making choices is challenging, especially in our complex world. We are inundated with information while called to make decisions affecting ourselves, our families, and our world. Sometimes it feels a bit much, like we’re constantly sorting through the mega-menu at the Cheesecake Factory when we’re unsure what we want and have to be at an appointment in half an hour.

To help with the decision making process we sometimes embrace rules of thumb to help us navigate the shoals. I for one have a grab bag of premeditated attitudes and responses ranging from “do the right thing” to “whatever,” yo-yoing from altruism to expediency as the situation dictates. Many times I just react and have little sense of the whys and wherefores of what I decide.

But I want to. If Lewis is right in emphasizing the importance of choices on the outcome of our characters and destiny (and I think he is), then leaving our decisions to the whims of the moment just doesn’t cut it. A life well-lived needs discernment with decisions no matter the complexity, but complexity and choice-making are often at odds.

Is there a way to make decision-making both easier and deeper? Is there a way to pare down this process, a way to insert our wisest worldview into our daily decisions without being overwhelmed? Is there a simple but not simplistic mantra to use to keep us focused in an unclear world?

Yes. And it’s Yes. What is Yes? I think we all know. We can read that it is an assent, an attitude “used to give an affirmative response” (Webster’s), but we instinctively know it when we nod, smile, and do what needs to be done when it needs to be done. We know it when life knocks on our door and our Yes opens it up to let our best selves in.

We’re not talking naivete here, or sticking our head in the sand, or some vacuous positive thinking. We’re talking facing a squishy discussion with our mates when we’d rather not or listening a little longer at work when we’re bored and tired. We’re talking embracing life on life’s terms and not letting it go until it blesses us and those around us.

We know No is always lurking behind the scenes, sitting in our shadows, ready to exert its will. God knows we succumb to its temptations early and often. But we also know that for every No that derails us, every Yes puts us back on track. We know it’s never too late in a day or a life to get back to it. We can be like the criminal next to Jesus on the cross who waited for the last possible moment to say Yes to God and is now living that Yes into eternity.

So let’s do ourselves and the people around us a favor by saying Yes to life and death and truth and love over fear. Yes to the values we all share. And even Yes to no, when no (to addictions and pettiness and cynicism) leads to more Yes’s.

Heaven or hell awaits us every day. Let’s decide to nod, smile, and make the former a self-fulfilling prophecy.

“You dare your Yes --and experience a meaning.
You repeat your Yes--and all things acquire a meaning.
When everything has a meaning, how can you live anything but a Yes?”
Dag Hammarskold

]]><![CDATA[Spiritual but not not Religious]]>Fri, 27 Jul 2018 19:09:58 GMThttp://ricktestament.com/ricktestament-blog/spiritual-but-not-not-religious

When Andrew’s job took him to the big city, he wanted to connect on an online dating site.  But as he started filling out his profile, he found some categories challenging.  “Interests?”  He didn’t seem to have as many as others and thought that might be a turn-off.  “What ended his last relationship?”  Awkward also, because he had only been in one relationship before and that ended badly.

But fortunately one category was a no-brainer: spiritual background.  He wouldn’t call himself an atheist, always having a vague notion there was something “bigger than himself out there.”  But he also knew saying he was religious could be the kiss of death.  So he found that perfect phrase listed as the first option: “spiritual but not religious.”

Spiritual but not religious is a mantra for our generation.  This is, of course, understandable.  In our commitment challenged generation, spiritual feels freeing, religion confining.  And religion suffers from guilt by association, linked in many minds with pedophile priests and international terrorism.  We are tired of the hypocrisy, sick of the preaching without the practice.  No wonder attendance at churches, synagogues, and mosques is on the decline.

So why in the name of God would anyone want to be religious?  Good question.  To get at some answers, we need to start with some definitions.  Spirituality is a general term which talks about the search for meaning and something bigger than ourselves.  Words such as transcendence and interconnections and aliveness come to mind.  Religion is a more specific term, looking at a particular system of worship and faith, a system which often includes a belief in a deity and sacred texts.

Many who view these distinctions see religion as the poor stepchild of spirituality, followed by immature people searching for certainty, trying to put words and practices to an experience best left undefined.  Others chafe at the vagueness of spirituality, a term which seems to cover everything and anything and seems more certain of what it isn’t than what it is.

I can’t speak for others in this discussion, but what I can say is that my experience with the Christian religion has been deeply rewarding both intellectually and emotionally.  In my more than 55 years of church going (including attendance at both Catholic and Protestant churches of various theological and socioeconomic ilks), I have consistently experienced ministers and congregations who are truth seeking and wanting to live out a life of love.  Perfect?  Never.  Judgmental?  On occasion.  Trying to serve God as best they can?  Consistently.

To me religion is the next step in the spiritual life--to go from seeking to finding. Yes the journey of life is important but so is the destination.  Yes the questions of life are important but so is finding answers.

And answers to me bring up the issue of God’s involvement.  As opposed to we finding our roads to God, could it possibly be that God has established a road meant to be followed?  We of the the 21st Century shirk from this line of thinking, but here is a solid logic in it. Most religion is based on the idea of a two-way street--we are involved, but so is God.  We can only make it up as we go along in a vacuum.

Part of it is just plain truth seeking.  Is there a God?  Does God have something to say about my life?  Of course I can’t know for sure but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be asking and seeking.  And if something is found, something with rich traditions and time tested truth and compelling answers to life’s most important questions, why not stick around?

We don’t need to polarize spirituality and religion like we do everything else in our world.  We can learn from both.  And then maybe Andrew can find another option for his profile (spiritual and religious), and may even decide to choose it.

]]><![CDATA[Not Going Postal]]>Tue, 20 Mar 2018 18:40:16 GMThttp://ricktestament.com/ricktestament-blog/not-going-postal

A few weeks ago our door bell rang, and then quickly rang again.  Reacting to the insistence, my wife and I both bolted toward the door from different spots, with her getting there first.  From the top of the stairway I could hear her having a somewhat heated conversation, with the heat coming from a voice I didn’t recognize.  The conversation soon ended, and my wife came upstairs to decompress.

I discovered our mail carrier was not happy with our front yard landscaping.  She was specifically miffed by an offending plant that was blocking her shortcut to the house next door.  Mind you this recently planted plant was about the size of a fist.  But to her it was a major blockade, and there was no way she was going to “waste her time” going back down the walkway.

Beyond the injustice perpetrated, we were also putting her on the horns of a dilemma.  Would we make her do an injustice to the plant by stepping on it or an injustice to herself by retracing her steps?  We were cruelly putting her in a no win situation and she less than subtly indicated our mail service might suffer unless something was done.

I reacted objectively as always: “Are you friggin’ kidding me?”  You’re telling me she wants us to re-plant our mini-landscaping so she can shorten her shortcut?  We’d never even seen her deliver our mail much less know the nuances of the route she took.  Is the term “disgruntled postal worker” an oxymoron or what?  Isn’t this sense of entitlement the reason the Postal service is losing money?

I’ve had it!  This is beyond the pale, even in PCeattle!  I’m going to call up her supervisor and cancel our mail service!  That’ll fix her!!!!

And us of course.  She gets one less house to deliver mail to and we get bupkis.  Sensing I was going a bit inane, I decided to take the road less traveled, actually sitting back for a second and trying to get perspective.  OK, maybe our house does have quite a few steps which are a hassle to get up and down.  Maybe she was having a bad day.  Maybe she was sick and tired of schlepping all that mail in all that rain with all that flora in her way.

And more than maybe, I needed to take a look at myself.  Did I want to be the type of person that goes ballistic at every slight that comes my way?  The type of person who see everything in us vs. them terms, with them the instigators and me (us) the victim?  Someone who walks around pissed off at life and looks for reasons to stay that way?

A part of me does, yes.  But a larger and deeper part of me wants to do the right thing for the right reasons, the part I’m most trying to cultivate.  To this end I’ve been memorizing biblical passages recently, including Colossians 3:12, which says to “clothe yourself with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.”  How should I act in this situation with these virtues in mind?

The next day I was still stewing on all these subtleties when I heard the clank of someone dropping mail in our box.  It was her!  Without thinking I bolted out the door and.....actually loved on her!  I said I was sorry for the inconvenience and sincerely asked what we might move in the future to make things easier for her.  Her countenance seemed to soften as I did so, and she said thanks for caring about her concerns.

Was this the right thing to do?  Ninety percent of me thought so, with the other ten percent thinking I’d overreacted, glossing over the challenges presented.  But mostly it felt good to love this person.  I know the clothes of compassion and kindness often don’t fit me, but at least I’m trying them on.

]]><![CDATA[Winning and Losing]]>Sat, 03 Mar 2018 22:06:03 GMThttp://ricktestament.com/ricktestament-blog/winning-and-losing

“For when the One Great Scorer comes
To mark against your name,
He writes - not that you won or lost -
But how you played the Game.
"Alumnus Football”
--Grantland Rice

Recently I play a tennis match at the Washington State Tournament at the Seattle Tennis Club. Gorgeous day.  Amazing setting.  My lovely wife Hattie and great friend Denny were watching.  I competed well in a 2 and 1/2 hour match against the 2nd seeds in the tournament.  I played with Joe Cannon, a friend of over 40 years, in an experience which drew us closer and cemented our relationship.

But we lost.  So it sucked.

Two weeks later I played in another tournament with much more challenging conditions.  My partner Joe had injured a stomach muscle and had to serve underhanded during our matches.  Some of our opponents were nice, one in particular was downright surly.  At times the whole experience felt like a trial by fire, and not just because we played in the stifling heat of an indoor tournament in August.

But we made it to the finals of a national tournament.  So it was really cool.

Sports is about winning and losing, isn’t it?  That’s why we like it so much.  In our lives filled with nuances and quandaries and indecision and uncertainties, we can gravitate to the dualistic thinking of sports.  We hear about a game or match and we ask: Who won?  Cut and dry and simple.

Unlike the rest of life.

Which is why I tend to poo poo my lifelong addiction to sports, both as a participant and a fan.  Isn’t it just a diversion, an escape from the more important things in life?  The stress on winning and losing is polarized thinking; truth is usually about both sides having merit and infinitely more.

I must be a loser to be so caught up with winning.

But if truth is about both sides having merit, isn’t there something to say about wanting to win?  There is in the Bible.  1st Corinthians 9:24 says: “Do you know that those who run in a race all run, but only one receives the prize?  Run in such a way that you may win.”

Hmmm.

Maybe it’s just important to not run from the paradox.  Winning as doing your best and competing against yourself and using your gifts is good.  So is losing, as in losing your life to gain it, losing yourself in love, losing your self made protective props.  And the balance can be found with that Loser/Winner Jesus, the itinerant preacher was born in a stable and died on a cross but who changed the world like no other person in history.  He’s my Great Scorer, and through Him I hope to play with perspective.

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