"Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord!"
In the days when I was a kid going to Madison Elementary School in Hinsdale, Illinois, we had two recess periods a day. One in the morning, and one in the afternoon. 15 minutes each. The highlight of the day for us restless kids who tried to sit keep all of our youthful energy in line while we sat in our desks.
On recess, we would do all sorts of things: play on the swings and slides, in the winter we'd slide down the big hill on plastic, we'd play tag...but the thing that I remember most doing was playing kick ball. If you have never played kick-ball, it's much like baseball, except you use a playground ball that the pitcher rolls to the plate and the "batter" kicks it and tries to get on base. There were some kids who were really good at it...kids who were strong and could kick it a mile, kids who were agile and could place their kicks where they wanted, and kids that were coordinated and could field balls kicked their way. Everyone knew who the best kids were, and so the two best were the captains, and everyone else would like up in a row, and the captains would pick their team.
If they weren't captains, everyone knew who would be picked first...and everyone also knew who would be picked last. I was usually picked toward the top end of the selecting, and every time that I was picked toward the top I could feel my ego expand just a little bit...my kickball prowess receiving its due acknowledgement.
In the days when I was a kid going to Madison Elementary School in Hinsdale, Illinois, we had two recess periods a day. One in the morning, and one in the afternoon. 15 minutes each. The highlight of the day for us restless kids who tried to sit keep all of our youthful energy in line while we sat in our desks.
On recess, we would do all sorts of things: play on the swings and slides, in the winter we'd slide down the big hill on plastic, we'd play tag...but the thing that I remember most doing was playing kick ball. If you have never played kick-ball, it's much like baseball, except you use a playground ball that the pitcher rolls to the plate and the "batter" kicks it and tries to get on base. There were some kids who were really good at it...kids who were strong and could kick it a mile, kids who were agile and could place their kicks where they wanted, and kids that were coordinated and could field balls kicked their way. Everyone knew who the best kids were, and so the two best were the captains, and everyone else would like up in a row, and the captains would pick their team.
If they weren't captains, everyone knew who would be picked first...and everyone also knew who would be picked last. I was usually picked toward the top end of the selecting, and every time that I was picked toward the top I could feel my ego expand just a little bit...my kickball prowess receiving its due acknowledgement.
Back then, I didn't
think much about it, but now I wonder what it must have been like to always be
the last ones chosen. As I think about it, it must have been somewhat
disheartening to over and over again be told how awful you were at kickball,
and how unwanted you were. Come to think about it, I am amazed that those
kids kept on playing kickball with us.
But imagine if this were to happen....it takes imagination because it never happened....what if one day when everyone was lining up to be picked...all of us kick ball experts anxiously awaiting our name to be called and have our ego's stroked again...and lo and behold, the first pick of the day was none of us "pro's" but the kid who had always been the last pick every day. If that was to happen, can you imagine the shock in that kid’s eyes? I bet that that kid looked around to see if anyone else was moving to see if it was really true. I wonder if that kid raced out to take a place right behind the captain or if that kid was so shocked that the trip to the captains side was stumbling with unbelief.
And I wonder when the recess bell rang and the game was over, and the team on which this kid has been selected had been creamed by the other team because the captain had not chosen a pro for his first pick, and when they were running back to the school building the picked kid asked the captain, "Why did you pick me first?", and the captain said, "Because you are my friend, and I wanted you on my team."
"But we lost...we got creamed!"
"I know, but I don't care. You are my friend, and I wanted you on my team. That is what I care about."
I wonder how that normally last picked kid felt? I wonder what that normally last picked kid who was picked first recounted what happened at school that day?
I bet it went something like this;
"Mom, Dad...I have the best friend in the world. Today at recess, he picked me first to be on his team. And even though we got creamed and I asked him why he picked me, he said, "You are my friend, and I wanted you on my team. I have the best friend in the world."
But imagine if this were to happen....it takes imagination because it never happened....what if one day when everyone was lining up to be picked...all of us kick ball experts anxiously awaiting our name to be called and have our ego's stroked again...and lo and behold, the first pick of the day was none of us "pro's" but the kid who had always been the last pick every day. If that was to happen, can you imagine the shock in that kid’s eyes? I bet that that kid looked around to see if anyone else was moving to see if it was really true. I wonder if that kid raced out to take a place right behind the captain or if that kid was so shocked that the trip to the captains side was stumbling with unbelief.
And I wonder when the recess bell rang and the game was over, and the team on which this kid has been selected had been creamed by the other team because the captain had not chosen a pro for his first pick, and when they were running back to the school building the picked kid asked the captain, "Why did you pick me first?", and the captain said, "Because you are my friend, and I wanted you on my team."
"But we lost...we got creamed!"
"I know, but I don't care. You are my friend, and I wanted you on my team. That is what I care about."
I wonder how that normally last picked kid felt? I wonder what that normally last picked kid who was picked first recounted what happened at school that day?
I bet it went something like this;
"Mom, Dad...I have the best friend in the world. Today at recess, he picked me first to be on his team. And even though we got creamed and I asked him why he picked me, he said, "You are my friend, and I wanted you on my team. I have the best friend in the world."
1 Cor. 1:26-31
26 Consider your own call, brothers and sisters, not many of you were wise by human standards not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth. 27But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; 28God chose what is low and despised in the world, things that are not, to reduce to nothing things that are, 29so that no one might boast in the presence of God. 30He is the source of your life in Christ Jesus, who became for us wisdom from God, and righteousness and sanctification and redemption, 31in order that, as it is written, 'Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord.'
Have a great week.
God’s grace and peace, (ggap)
Jerry
Nuernberger
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