Second String

Aaron actually showed interest in using scissors today. It's the little things that are big things around here. The little are big. The upside down kingdom that we live in, that Jesus lives in. Don't worry. We don't need big things. We are good with it. In fact, it's how we like it.

We are the second string. We are not the Christians that are popular in most cases. We, in fact, may seem downright anti-social and awkward. We are not your picked-first-for-the team type people. Our fellow Christians are almost always more polished, better spoken, don't have tattoos, piercings, and most certainly don't avoid playgroup like the plague. But we do. You see, we are the second string. We are the people that practice with varsity, are used to scrimmage, but are not quite first string material. We are not picked to represent our school. We have difficulties talking about the fluff of life in a circle of well groomed, fully rested folks, as if it is a matter of life and death.

It's hard to fit in when we know what actual death looks like, feels like. We have felt it slip in and replace the beating heart from right beneath our pounding hands. We pray, just like varsity, except it's more of a running casual dialogue. It has to be. We have backed ourselves into a corner of needing Jesus to the point where we would crumple under the weight of this world without Him. To us second stringers, the only way we would die of misery is if we were promoted to first string. We would never want to go back to struggling with priorities or wondering what (or not caring) about what our calling is.

We would wilt if we were preoccupied with obtaining approval from our world, or to mindless busyness. People don't expect us to be freshly pressed at church or have a spotless house. They wonder how we make it through the day. We would never want to go back to being numbed to suffering and need. We are not as smooth, good looking or whitty as our first string counterparts. Most of us do go to church, or at least try. Sometimes we have to leave early though. We can not usually bring a casserole or volunteer for the raffle. We can't really join clubs. Our lives are not lived 9-5, soccer, ballet, cook-out, birthday party style. We can't tell you we can bring a casserole on Thursday at 8, because we have no idea what might conspire, and often does, between now and then.

We generally know who our friends are because it's not easy or prestigious to hang out with us. We know how far a church reaches because they have to come to us, we just can't consistently come to bible study and make friends. We don't have the time or energy to preach or judge. We are slugging it out with some nasty stuff that has taken root in this world. All we are trying to do is love like He does, without judgment, often right there in the street where we always have worn out shoes. Sometimes we are not the face we should be, but we are trying really hard to love people well.

Sometimes varsity paves the way for an easier game finisher for us, but not often. Mostly, varsity tanks and we have to finish the game only to hear hissing from the crowd about a botched play we didn't participate in. We are never sent in first. We are busy working our after school job, so we can't always give our best effort at practice because we are just tired. It's not that we don't want to part of your team. We do. We long for community. But our church's are often not built to accommodate our ragamuffin gang of people who lack finesse. Sometimes we get sushed at church. Sometimes we are not allowed to stand in the back of church with our child who requires vestibular stimulation to calm down. We have to go in the hallway so as to not distract the first string.

We take comfort, so much comfort in the fact that Jesus was a second stringer. He was sent into this world, hissed at about a mess he had nothing to do with. He was busy working late and did not have the time or energy to be socially acceptable. He not only stood in the back, he overturned tables in the temple. He hung out with people who were not even part of the team. He did not come to teach the professionals, but to save us, the tired, the weary sinners, and the second stringers.