Peripatetics: The Art of Walking
Saturday, August 28, 2004
My first introduction to organized religion was far from stuffy. It was deeply passionate. Even at a young age I was completely consumed by it.
I read every available word (which, pre-internet, wasn’t much). There were times when I was encouraged. There were days when my doubts were fueled.
I had a small group of friends walking the path with me. There were times we encouraged each other. There were days when the discussions would get heated.
I remember they hymns. There were times when the slow ones would send chills up my spine. There were days when I couldn’t stop clapping and singing the fast ones, humming them during non-church days.
I loved going to the building on the weekend. There were times when I literally wept with others who were weeping. There were days when I hugged complete strangers, sharing their joy.
I could listen to the happenings on the radio if I couldn’t go on a particular weekend. There were times when you could hear the congregation’s enthusiasm. There were days when you could hear a pin drop in the background.
I respected the leaders. There were times when all I needed to hear was their explanation. There were days when they encouraged me just by the look on their faces.
I knew people in other denominations. There were days we could find things in common and rejoice. There were times when the differences were so pronounced you didn’t want to be around them.
I was misunderstood by people who didn’t have the same passion. They didn’t get it. They didn’t get me. They didn’t get us. But it didn’t matter. I was united to others through a common passion. I was involved in a movement that was bigger than all of us put together. It wasn’t stuffy. It was deeply passionate. I was completely consumed by it.
It was everything organized religion isn’t supposed to be. But then again, college football isn’t an ordinary religion. It is the primary passion in the state of Alabama.
Some of you won’t believe that, or you’ll assume I’m simply given to hyperbole. Trust me on this. There are over 12,000 web-sites that have information about Auburn football (I belong to the more clannish & traditional denomination known as the Tigers). Conversations with friends still turn to the fortunes of my team. The alma mater and fight song still stir my emotions. Jordan-Hare stadium has seen my most polar emotions—last second field goals have induced both tears and euphoria. The roar of the 85,000 people who paid $50 each can be heard in the background of my highlight DVD’s. Head coaches have highly rated post-game television shows to talk about the events of the previous day. I’ve seen husbands and wives fail to talk to each other because they went to rival universities.
People from outside the Deep South don’t understand it. They don’t get it. They don’t understand me or the Auburn Family. It doesn’t matter. I love my Tigers. I still live and die with them, even from 660 miles away.
And I do think an abundant life…the walk with Christ…should have that kind of passion, and those elements, in the mix.
Somewhere.
Somehow.
Some way.
More tomorrow.
Mind vitamin for today (For those of you that keep a journal--here's a prompt! For the rest of you, just think about these during your day): When have you been truly passionate about something or someone? What were the “highs” caused by? The “lows?” Can you have similar experiences in a 2004 walk with Christ? Why or why not?
Brent 9:30 PM
Comments:
War Eagle Brent...maybe this season we'll be better than last. If not...well lets just plan on being better.
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