Monday, February 5, 2018

Victory Is (Almost) Always Bittersweet

So, the Birds are, finally, the owners of a Vince Lombardi trophy. I keep repeating it over and over in my head, "They won. They won the Superbowl!" Scott, the auditory learner, keeps muttering it aloud. This household -- like many others, I'm sure -- has not taken its eyes off the television for almost twenty-four hours. Celebration after celebration, interview after interview -- believing, I suppose, the more frequently we hear it, the more time we spend absorbing it, the more angles from which we examine it, the more deeply we will accept and own it. (There might just be a lesson about Bible study in there somewhere!)

But victory, by nature is usually bittersweet. The existence of a winner bears with it the implication of a loser. When the loser of a particular contest is equally deserving of victory, or the loser possesses noble dreams that resonate with an audience, a certain pathos coexists with exuberance at the winner's success. I'd like to just go on record as saying, as far as Superbowl success is concerned, I have no sympathy whatsoever for the owners or players on the Patriots. However, believers exist on both sides of the field -- Christian brothers; players on both teams have been touched by human tragedy; I would venture to say, each player -- in blue or green -- has someone special cheering them on; some have personal goals. Point being, there are human interest stories from one end of the field to the other; a case could be made for either side's entitlement to victory.

Victory also invokes a certain sadness when those who are unable to share in it are recalled. Philadelphia Eagles coach, Doug Pederson lost his father a little more than a year ago. In an interview shortly after the win, a reporter asked Pederson what he believed his father would think; Pederson's tone became gentler, a bit less professional, and he fondly remembered his father's brow-beatings (I believe he called them) and spoke of his father looking down on them in this moment of victory. Bitter sweetness.

As I think about these things, I have to consider Christ's death on the cross. In my younger years, prolonged meditation on the events leading up to and including the crucifixion would cause me to weep heavily. But not because of God's immense love for me or the magnanimous offering of my Savior; because of guilt. The guilt that He had done so selfless a thing for me; and every fiber of my being was self-ish, wrapped up in me -- including that guilt. The cycle of sadness that revolved around the one who was on the throne of my life at the time -- me. It was bitterness to me that He endured so much, poured out His life for me, and I just couldn't seem to get it together and simply read my Bible, or stop cursing, or get excited about church, or be a little less angry. There was no accepting this as victory, no cause for celebration. Only shame.

Thanks be to God, I encountered grace! Grace is what allows us to understand Jesus willing laid down His life, willing withstood such torture in obedience to the Father, out of love for us, for His glory. Grace is the sweetness with which we stand in victory, and we celebrate the forgiveness, wholeness, healing, joy, peace and justification (and myriad other gifts!), despite the gruesome facts of the case. And there are gruesome facts on both sides of the issue: the manner in which Christ was executed, as well as the filth belonging to each of us, that He took upon Himself. Only Christ can eradicate all of that in the name of eternal, supernatural, unimaginable, complete, personal victory we all can confidently celebrate! Sweetly!