Soccer Drills and the Kingdom of God

Our family moved to Atlanta in January of 1977. I was in third grade. That spring I started playing soccer. I didn't start playing because I was in love with the game (frankly, I didn't even know what it was), but rather because all my new friends played. Oh, and my parents wouldn't let me play football.                                                                                                                       

I didn't start playing because I was in love with the game, but almost instantly I was, and at the risk of not being humble, I was good. (I mean I did make the boys varsity team in the ninth grade--and I was on the select state championship team in 1981...just sayin'--and now I'm uncomfortable, kind of.) Anyway, I started playing and never stopped until I blew my knee out in the 10th grade.

I flirted with midfield and defense (my midfield story and scoring the winning goal in overtime of the state semi-finals is quite a good one!), but my true love was playing in the goal. From the goal, I could see and direct the field. It was like I was one with the game; it made sense to me, and my body responded seemingly on autopilot. 

I've watched a lot of soccer over the years, but last week....

I was in Virginia and I went to see the Randolph women's soccer game. I was middle school girl giddy. I know and love several of the girls who were playing, and I just couldn't wait to watch them play. I was not prepared for what happened.

I was mesmerized. As I watched the game, all the feelings came back. I looked at #22, #11, and the goalie, and I knew what they were thinking. I could feel their feelings. I could read the ball and the field. It was like I became one with the game, and my body and mind just knew. It was exhilarating, freeing, and indescribable.

Now to return to my not so humble declaration that I was good. I was. I had some natural talent, but I also worked my patootie off. I spent HOURS both with the team and individually practicing. I studied plays. I watched film. I replayed games in my head and talked incessantly about could of's and should of's. I did the same drills over and over and over. It's been years since I've been on a field or practiced any drills, but last Wednesday my body and my mind kicked in, and just knew.

I've been thinking a lot about what happened last week and about spiritual practices and faith. We read the same scriptures over and over. We pray the same prayers. When we go to worship, sometimes it can seem so repetitive, and maybe sometimes we even wonder, "what's the point?" It feels like nonstop drills with no game. 

I've been thinking about all those Sundays my husband and I wrestled (literally) our four children into their "uniforms" and headed out the door to church--many times we needed absolution immediately upon arrival! I've been thinking about the times we were so exhausted at night and just wanted the children to go to bed, but we took the time (most nights) to say prayers. Some of our children attend church now more frequently than others. But here's the thing, Proverbs 22:6 tells us, "Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it." 

Daily life is the game. Some games are easy peasy.  We don't have to think much or even try too hard, but every once in a while, BAM! We have an encounter with someone, a diagnosis comes, a struggle, or any number of things, and we are struggling to just stay in the game. We may even want to give up, but all those "drills" kick in, and we find we have the strength, the skills, the fortitude to keep going. Our minds and bodies just know what to do. The game is life, and we play for the Kingdom...

PS--That winning goal in the semi-finals, total luck! Coach moved me from the goal into the field to keep me from getting hurt in hopes we would make it to the finals. The ball came to me, and I just kicked it. I had no idea what I was doing which may be why the goalie missed it--she probably thought the same thing!