Sport and the Argument from Transcendence

Over ten years ago I engaged a young atheist in a debate over the existence of God. He was a Harvard graduate and much brighter than I ( I encounter that cruel phenomenon far too often ). He'd been influenced by the not yet famous Richard Dawkins, whose book, The Blind Watchmaker, was much to his liking. Nothing I said could budge him with this one exception.
He flinched on the subject of transcendence.
He'd fallen in love with a Christian girl. Indeed that was the whole reason for our conversation. He admitted transcendence was real because he felt it. He believed his love for the girl to be transcendent. And he was candid enough to confess that he couldn't account for transcendence in his philosophy.
Some time later he did come to faith in the Savior. I wish I could claim credit. But, as human credit goes, the Lord used someone else to bring him round.
Now transcendence is an easier thing to feel than to explain. The Oxford English Dictionary (one of my favorite material possessions) ties the term to a realm beyond the physical. Transcendence suggests something quite over and outside ourselves, indeed something which can't quite be accounted for by considerations limited to ourselves, though the secularists make the attempt with all their might.
Love of course is transcendent. As is music. As is patriotism. As is Sport.
We (Jane, Seth and I) were in Italy last week. Better last week than now. To surrender the World Cup via an early exit at the hands of little Slovakia is an agony which will linger long in Italy. At one time there were something like 12 DAILY newspapers devoted to football in that country. It’s something that matters to the Italians.
We arrive at the question of WHY it matters. Why does kicking a ball into a net matter? Why do we get a lump in our throats when someone from our country ascends the medal stand and our National Anthem is played? How and for what reason does sport take us out of ourselves? Why is sport transcendent? Indeed why is anything transcendent?
I have a theory. It's a theory born of Christian conviction.
My theory is that a thing is transcendent if it shadows a corresponding reality in heaven.
The most transcendent thing is the family. The relationship we are born into or we marry into is the thing we are most willing to die for. The original and ultimate reality is the Father and the Son in heaven.
A nation is an extension of the family. Patriotism and Sport itself at the Olympic and World Cup level are expressions of the nation. It's OUR country we cheer for is it not?
Sport is also a metaphor for war. We struggle and fight. One side wins. The other side is vanquished. War, amazingly and mysteriously, is something which also takes place in heaven (Revelation 12:7).
I suppose only war itself could have distracted the world's attention from soccer this week. Even Wimbledon couldn't muster much of a distraction until the 11 hour match between John Isner and Nicolas Mahut. After the match was over Isner called Mahut a 'warrior.'
Sport can also be a substitute. We live vicariously in the defeat and victory of our team. But there's also something there which is less obvious. George Orwell wrote that where religious faith is absent totalitarianism is inevitable. Men cannot live without absolutes. If we reject the Heavenly Kingdom we will demand subservience to an earthly kingdom.
We simply will care about something. If it's not something which matters, it will be something which appears to matter at the moment.
Like kicking a ball into a net.
I'm not suggesting that caring about sport must necessarily displace the Larger Things.
No doubt the Apostle Paul was an enthusiast for Sport.
It's hard to read First Corinthians without sensing that.
I rather maintain that our enthusiasm is a hint.
It's a signal that there is something bigger.
Something much bigger.
Our team has already exited the World Cup.
John Isner is gone from Wimbledon.
But there is another glory.
It fadeth not away.

The Prayer at the Wedding

““. . . the mother of Jesus said to Him, ‘They have no wine’.”
(John 2:3)

We inevitably remember the Wedding Feast at Cana as the story of Jesus’ first miracle.
John normally used the word “sign” to designate Jesus’ mighty acts, because he wished to emphasize the particular message clothed in the miracle. The water-to-wine miracle was Jesus’ first sign , but it was not the first display of His supernatural capacity in John’s gospel. He’d already displayed a miraculous knowledge of Nathaniel in chapter 1.
Jesus never indulged anything remotely like magic, and His miracles were never random or without a message. Every sign was like a little parable telling of His person, power and purpose. The episode at the wedding also carries a lesson about prayer, because the emergency was met by a miracle summoned by a prayer. The prayer was a marvel of succinctness hidden in the form of an observation. It was prayed by Mary who summed the situation up in four words:
“...they have no wine.”
We hear only an observation; Jesus, however, hears a request. How else are we to understand His answer in John 2:4: “Woman what am I to do with you, My time has not yet come”?
We will be helped in our understanding of the gospels if we remember that Jesus seldom responded to words alone; He responded rather to thoughts. Have you ever noticed how sometimes Jesus appears to utter a non sequitur—i.e., an answer apparently unrelated to the question or a comment apparently out of place in the context? We see this again later in chapter two when the authorities in Jerusalem challenge His right to cleanse the Temple. Jesus’ response to them was a little mysterious: “Destroy this Temple and in three days I will raise it up” (John 2:19). But He was responding to their thoughts, as they were already thinking that He must die for opposing them.
We frequently use our words to throw a cloak over our true thoughts, but Jesus cuts through the artifice to address the real issue. Back to the wedding passage: if it were anyone else but the Lord, we would be tempted to think Mary was being treated with undue abruptness. After all, she was simply making an observation—or so it seemed on the surface. But the Lord is never interested in the surface. When He speaks to us, deep calls to deep. His response to Mary signals that what His mother may have wanted was some sort of disclosure of His full identity and office. The moment may have seemed propitious to her. But that the moment was premature is evident from His answer: “My time has not yet come.” When she speaks we can only hear an observation, but we can be sure that He heard a request. Characteristically she responds to His apparent rebuff with faith: she alerts the servants to be ready to obey His every command.
While we only hear a “no” in Jesus’ answer, Mary hears a “yes.” This is obvious from her response. She actually gives the servants the best counsel ever given in the history of the world: “Whatever He says to you: DO IT!” (John 2:5).
Perhaps Jesus did not do everything her heart could wish for. But He did something. And He met the need of the hour.
Now here is a remarkable thing and a lesson for every believer. What is our response when we believe God is telling us “no”? What do we do when we suspect He may not give us exactly what we want? The lesson from Mary, as relayed through her instructions to the servants, was simply this: if we think God is saying “no” to us we must be sure we are still saying say “yes” to Him. If we are disappointed, it is all the more urgent to insure that He is not disappointed.
Can we truthfully say that it is more important that we do what the Lord wants us to do than He do for us what we want Him to do? It’s no use pretending: our prayer life will only sustain one great burden. And while it’s certainly permitted to pray for God to act on our behalf, it’s a bad symptom if that one theme dominates our entire agenda.
Let us be confident that even if we can’t be sure He will give us what we want, He will do something. And that something will be a good thing and a better thing (though we may not see it) than what we asked. Let the burden of our prayer life be a determination to do what the Lord wants.
When we reach that place in prayer, we will witness the power of God. Indeed if we reach that place, we will have already witnessed it. The supply will be filled. The celebration will continue.
Just as it did at Cana.