Jesus is my Gatorade

I have always loved Gatorade. Its hard to find here, but its a treasure when you stumble across it on a rare trip to the giant grocery store five miles away. I don't drink Coke or coffee, just tea and Gatorade. Its not that I'm a health nut-- its that the drinks that I like happen to be healthier than others. (As they say here, "Guinness is good for you.") I like Gatorade and tea because they quench my thirst. On a hot, muggy summer afternoon in the south, Coke just doesn't do it. You need Gatorade. You need sweet tea. They don't create more thirst like syrupy carbonated drinks or coffee (even if its iced). Gatorade satisfies.

The Bible has been really refreshing recently- I'm not sure why, because its not always that way- but it has been fresh and liberating every time I open it. Being in a foreign culture means that I live with a constant sense of vulnerability, or maybe its confusion, or awkwardness, I don't know what exactly. Its not overwhelming--its a subtle feeling, underlying almost every minute of everyday. As I go through layers of cultural integration, one after the other, each deeper than the last, my life comes under the microscope. It means that a little more of the dirt in my heart is exposed everyday, and I have to stare into the face of it. Its not fun, nor is it easy. Sometimes I don't even realize how taxing it can be, until I collapse into my bed at the end of a long day.

I want to escape this examination, this microscope. Its not fun. Its not easy. I just want something that will promise to give me security, something that can handle my dirt safely. Or I want a way to forget it. So many things make one promise or the other. Girls, money, drugs--its not hard to find the escape hatch. Especially not in this neighborhood. But those aren't escapes. At the beginning they might be distractions. At the end they are slavery, and eventually self-destruction. The path from start to finish may be exciting, or it may be depressing, or both. But its not fulfilling. That much I know.

But then there are the things that promise the other--they don't claim to distract, but promise instead that they can handle all my dirt safely, that I will be secure and loved once I am in. Success and image and control and achievement and power and approval and religion. These are the things that really attract me. They are more acceptable in our society. They are not so obviously dangerous as drugs. And they make a greater claim, a higher promise. "The dangers of apparent self-sufficiency explain why Our Lord regards the vices of the feckless and dissipated so much more leniently than the vices that lead to worldly success," wrote C.S. Lewis. When all I want is something that will quench my thirst for approval and acceptance and security, the temptation of achievement and success is so very tempting.

Perhaps that's why the Bible has been so fresh these past weeks. In the midst of my temptation, my exposed heart, it tells me the story that I long to hear. It speaks directly and tells me absolutely that Jesus has taken my dirt. He has loved me as I am, not as I should be. He has taken my dirt on Himself. I want to be whole, to be blameless before God, to be the man that He has envisioned me to be. I desperately thirst for it. But with muggy temptation all around me, the coffee and Coke of my striving leaves me parched. I need something that satisfies. I need Gatorade. Jesus is my Gatorade.

found this shirt online

Football

Being so close to the 174 Trust is truly a blessing. Some volunteers have to travel long distances for both their church and community center placements. But convenience is just icing on the cake. The best part about it is this: I live in the same neighborhood with the guys who are in the youth club, and they all know it. Being a foreigner means that I am automatically an outsider to their problems and 'Troubles'. Being an American means that I am a privileged outsider at that. Being a Christian means that I'm an uptight, privileged outsider. And that perception is hard to break. So it helps that I live in their neighborhood and walk their streets.

The youth football club is incarnational ministry at its hardest for me. Mention Jesus or the Bible and the guys will either laugh or scatter, depending on their mood and personality. They know that Bill is a pastor-- 'Rev' is one of their favorite nicknames for him-- but they probably wouldn't ever set foot inside a church, whatever the denomination, except perhaps for a wedding or a funeral. It seems that they don't even want to talk about anything serious-- they just want to play football. Or on Monday night, when we take the mini-bus and go for activities in other parts of town, they just want to leave the neighborhood. They'll go for almost anything as long as it involves leaving the streets they see day in and day out.

Its such a trying situation because, while I can see that these guys are searching for meaning in their lives, trying to numb the pain, I can't use words to express my faith. I must do it through my actions, my attitudes, my engagement and interest in their lives. "Preach the gospel at all times, and only if necessary, use words" goes the famous line from St. Francis, the meaning of which I am learning slowly, bit by bit, everyday. Having to preach the Gospel through my actions means that my inability to live like Jesus is constantly exposed. Its like staring into a huge mirror that keeps showing me that I am not patient enough, not loving enough, not challenging enough, not courageous enough, not willing to sacrifice enough.

I have two options when my heart is so exposed. First, I can deny it outright. I can live in intentional ignorance of the fact that I am not up to this task on my own. That doesn't eliminate the reality that I fail--it just causes me to place blame elsewhere...the guys are too demanding, too harsh, they don't listen to a word I say, there's no discipline, no interest in thinking about serious issues or gaining knowledge of the world outside the tiny bubble where they grew up and still live. Much of that may be true. But it is no reason to stop loving, stop being patient, stop challenging them. God didn't stop when I wasn't interested-- what right do I have to stop now?

Which leads to my other option, and that is to fall on Grace, plain and simple. Only Christians have such a beautiful gift. When I lose patience...when I forget why I should even love other people...when I don't feel like giving any more time and effort when it never seems appreciated by those who receive it...when my heart cannot carry the load of caring for these guys who have so much pain and depression just beneath the surface of their smiles...these are the times that I must fall on Grace. I must admit that I do not see with God's eyes, or love with God's heart. I must admit that my standard operating procedure is selfishness. "At this very moment," wrote CS Lewis, "you and I are either committing [selfishness], about to commit it, or repenting from it."

When I fall on Grace, I do not just admit these things, but I recognize, and once again accept, the truth of the Gospel-- that Jesus has paid the price for my selfishness! He promises to change my heart to be more like His. And I can feel and see that change taking place everyday. That is Grace. It is knowledge which softens my heart and strengthens my soul, in order that I may continue loving. It reminds me that other hearts are heavy too, that they yearn for the knowledge of Grace. Thus the extension of that Grace to others must be the central thrust of my life and labor. There is no higher calling.

"For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is a gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them." - Ephesians 2:8-10