“…that they may be perfected in unity…” John 17:23
We borrowed the expression from our own servant to the lepers in Southeast Asia, Denise Jasmer. It became a frequent expression from the lips of my grandson, Tate. “Perfecto!” And as the evening grew rapidly dark on that Monday two weeks back, it seemed to be the proper word to sum it all up.
You know the scene. Just east of the offices of State Farm, a cultural phenomenon is played out. Just try finding a place to park the family bus! YMCA soccer for six-year-olds; eight small children, four in each jersey color, running wildly and randomly around the field, followed by two dads who pretend to be “coaches” calling out instructions and encouragement. Somewhere in the midst of that mob there bounces a hapless ball. Legs are flailing in the air, occasionally making contact, but rarely actually directed. And then, ever so often, that ball discovers the back of the net. Goal! And wild celebration spontaneously breaks out.
Now, that sort of describes the action on the field. Lining that arena of play is another crowd. Dads risking early-life strokes over missed opportunities or failed attempts appear dangerously close to going “postal”. And moms far too often make the “Texas Cheerleader Mom” look more like a gentle and kind Sunday School teacher. Lots of energy. Lots of excitement. And occasionally, “Goal! Perfecto!”
Tate’s first game? Total unorganized chaos! Lots of running and pushing and falling and misdirection and… But suddenly, from the edge of the crowd in front of the net, he kicks a ball that bounces off an opponent’s ankle and settles into the net. “Goal! Perfecto!” A wild celebration (notice, they learn how to celebrate long before they learn how to actually play the game?)!
We borrowed the expression from our own servant to the lepers in Southeast Asia, Denise Jasmer. It became a frequent expression from the lips of my grandson, Tate. “Perfecto!” And as the evening grew rapidly dark on that Monday two weeks back, it seemed to be the proper word to sum it all up.
You know the scene. Just east of the offices of State Farm, a cultural phenomenon is played out. Just try finding a place to park the family bus! YMCA soccer for six-year-olds; eight small children, four in each jersey color, running wildly and randomly around the field, followed by two dads who pretend to be “coaches” calling out instructions and encouragement. Somewhere in the midst of that mob there bounces a hapless ball. Legs are flailing in the air, occasionally making contact, but rarely actually directed. And then, ever so often, that ball discovers the back of the net. Goal! And wild celebration spontaneously breaks out.
Now, that sort of describes the action on the field. Lining that arena of play is another crowd. Dads risking early-life strokes over missed opportunities or failed attempts appear dangerously close to going “postal”. And moms far too often make the “Texas Cheerleader Mom” look more like a gentle and kind Sunday School teacher. Lots of energy. Lots of excitement. And occasionally, “Goal! Perfecto!”
Tate’s first game? Total unorganized chaos! Lots of running and pushing and falling and misdirection and… But suddenly, from the edge of the crowd in front of the net, he kicks a ball that bounces off an opponent’s ankle and settles into the net. “Goal! Perfecto!” A wild celebration (notice, they learn how to celebrate long before they learn how to actually play the game?)!
That was the beginning of a long season of Monday evening events. But amazingly, due to a great, kind and patient “coach”, those six-year-old boys began to come together as a team. They were dribbling, passing, blocking, and, once in a while, scoring. They were actually learning to do it well…together.So Jesus prays, “The glory which You have given Me I have given them, that they may be one…that they may be perfected in unity…” Perfected, to be made complete, to mature, to reach the goal; a process of molding His team into gospelizers, so that together they could celebrate the success of the goal.
Early sunset shortened the final game. No practice period this time. Just line them up and kick the hapless ball. And as the second half began, I did it. God did it. Tate did it. And I almost hesitate to say what it is I did. Most of you will once again conclude that I am crazy. And a couple of you might take a misguided theological detour. However, I did it. God did it. And Tate did it.
It had been a long season since Tate’s first goal. And he had really, really worked hard as a part of his team. So, without making any scene or whatever, as the second and final half of the last game of his season began, I simply prayed, “Lord, would You be so gracious as to let Tate score just one more goal?”
And not 30 seconds later, out of the crowd of little bodies near mid-field, Tate came with the ball. And with a random swing of his left leg, it found the back of the net some 25 feet away. And the coach, and that team of six-year-old boys wildly celebrated TOGETHER. Formerly total strangers had, in one season, become a team. “Goal! Perfecto!”“That they may be perfected in unity, so that the World may know…”
Goal? “Perfecto!”
See you Sunday, Church!
Pastor Tom
P.S. We just MIGHT have the World Games covered in 20 years J.
