The Superbowl is upon us. For your pastor and the staff, that means the headache of trying to figure out how to keep all your church family happy without looking like sell-outs concerning the importance of the local church gathering.  Most churches have some sort of regularly scheduled service on Sunday nights, it might be a preaching service, some kind of discipleship or prayer service, or perhaps community groups. Something in the regular life of the church is going to conflict with the Superbowl this Sunday. What ought the church to do?

It may seem that this Sunday’s game is of mega-importance, it is the “Super” Bowl after all, but really it is a fixture of American pop culture. It has gotten so big that advertisers can’t wait to air their multi-million dollar commercials, so they are ‘pre-releasing’ them on the internet to get more bang for their buck. (Seinfeld! Ferris Bueller! Woohoo!) The Super Bowl is a pretty big, multi-billion dollar entertainment extravaganza. How can a Sunday night church service hope to compete with such a juggernaut? And should it even try?

How should the church handle this? Isn’t it true that sports in the United States have become an idol for many people, even Christians? Isn’t it true that people invest way too much of their identity in the success and failure of their favorite team? If this is the case, perhaps the church shouldn’t bow to this Baal, and they should have their regular service and ignore the hype. After all, there are those who do not care about football. There is an 80% chance that the guy who does not care is from Canada, but still there are those people at church.*

And yet, the church doesn’t want to seem cold to the hobbies of its members. After all, some enjoy football in a non-idolatrous way. Football is not a sin. It can build up the positive themes of team work, camaraderie, and teaches the importance of repetitive and difficult practice. Plus, there is the fact that if the church steam rolls ahead without a thought, those who love football are going to be absent. Should the church just ignore those folks and move on? Or should the pastor talk to them to see if their attitude about football is wrong? The church could avoid this awkwardness altogether by simply cancelling the Sunday night service and letting people do as they wish. But what message does that send?

Another way churches deal with the Super Bowl is to completely embrace it. They recognize it is an important part of the culture and schedule a party around it. They make it a big deal and invite friends from the community. Sometimes, a half-time devotion is given. In it, the person usually makes note of the fact that who wins the Super Bowl is not of great importance in comparison to one’s relationship to Christ. Everybody is happy! Well, except the folks that like the Budweiser commercials. Usually some guy is designated the “remote guy” and his job is to fast-forward through all the GoDaddy commercials and other such risque advertisements.

I trust that your church loves Christ, His Word, and is jealous for His glory. We don’t want anything to overshadow him, and frankly the attention the Super Bowl gets makes us a little jealous because Jesus deserves as much and more.  But yet, we do not want to be sticks in the mud at worst, or miss an opportunity to rub elbows in a fun way with the community at best. Every church has to navigate between sending the wrong signal about the importance of the teaching that happens at the Sunday night service, and the great desire to be the type of church that folks want to be a part of.

So here is the real answer, and it so happens that this is also a great question: Why couldn’t the NFL had made this easy for us and called it “Super Bowl Saturday”?

________________

*I’m kidding. I realize that the percentage of non-Canadians who don’t care for the Super Bowl is higher than 20%. I made that stat up. It is probably closer to 28%.

Tebow has been so firmly planted in the lime light that he has inspired a new trend: “Tebowing,” a practice similar to “planking” that pokes fun at Tebow’s iconic pregame prayers. Other Christian athletes have weighed in on Tebow’s public displays of faith as well. Former Super Bowl Champion Kurt Warner recently encouraged Tebow to tone down his religious rhetoric. While Tebow certainly carries himself with a wide-eyed sincerity and an infectious work ethic, Warner’s comments bring up important questions about Christian witness. I appreciate Tebow’s outward expressions of faith, but I think Warner may have a point. Public displays of religious acts don’t actually tell anyone anything about our faith. Is it possible that many Christians are admiring Tebow for the wrong reasons?

The prophet Isaiah pronounced God’s judgment on Israel for public displays of religion devoid of spiritual substance: “this people draw near with their mouth and honor with their lips, while their hearts are far from me, and their fear of me is a commandment taught by men” (Isa. 29:13). Jesus further warned us of the dangers of public acts of supplication, “beware of practicing your righteousness before men in order to be seen by them, for then you will have no reward from your father who is in heaven” (Matt. 6:1).

These passages do not illuminate the motives of Tim Tebow. We cannot possibly know his heart. It could be that Tebow selfishly prays each week for God to smite his evil opponents. It is far more likely, however, that he asks God to help him play honorably and thanks Him for the opportunity to play the game he loves. Christian charity requires that we assume the latter.

I once heard Tebow give his testimony at a pastor’s conference in Jacksonville, Florida. Tebow had just won a national championship and finished his freshman year at the University of Florida. He wasn’t the best public speaker but his testimony came across as sincere and he clearly relished the opportunity to praise God for all of his success. I am not a Gator fan, nor do I follow the NFL, but I walked away from that experience interested in how his career would unfold. I prayed that he would be faithful to Christ with the platform God had given him. Some five years have passed since I prayed that prayer and I am happy to say that I think Tebow has carried himself admirably.

Tebow refused to attend the yearly Heisman party at the Playboy mansion both times he was nominated for the award, his teammates consistently praise his work ethic, and when he is criticized, Tebow never retaliates. In response to criticism from Jake Plummer (former Broncos Quarterback) about his constant references to Jesus, Tebow said:

“If you’re married and you have a wife and you really love your wife, is it good enough to only say to your wife ‘I love her’ the day you get married? Or should you tell her every single day when you wake up and every opportunity? That’s how I feel about my relationship with Jesus Christ.”

While I think Warner may have a point about the dangers of public piety, Tebow’s response to criticism has a way of dismantling such arguments. We should all pray for the kind of affection for Christ that Tebow purports to have. These things are worthy of our admiration.

The Bible never condemns public prayer but it often warns us of its inherent dangers—-namely a religion motivated by the praise of men. This has me wondering what Tebow’s bold religious gestures are actually accomplishing. Certainly he has won the praise of many church going football fans but what about the unbeliever watching at home? What about Tebow’s teammates?

While I cannot possibly know the answers to those questions, I appreciate Warner’s challenge to Tebow: “The greatest impact you can have on people is never what you say, but how you live…. You set the standard with your actions. The words can come later.” From what I can see of Tebow, I would like to say he is living a life fitting of his many shout-outs to Jesus. The real truth, however, is that I don’t know Tim Tebow.

Biblically speaking, public piety tells us very little about someone’s faith. Prayer is a religious act and John 3:16 is a verse—neither actually tells us all that much about Tebow’s character and whether it’s worthy of applause. While I appreciate Tebow’s public piety, I find myself wanting to gently warn the millions of Christians following his story that his public displays of faith are not necessarily indicative of what it means to follow Jesus.

We are commanded to be Christ’s witnesses (Acts 1:8) and to pray without ceasing (1 Thess. 5:17)–but the particulars of living out those commands must be worked out in context of our daily lives. Assuming that public expressions of faith–in Tebow’s case, pre-game prayers and writing Bible verses on one’s eye black–serve as an essential part of our witness is naive and potentially misleading. It’s highly unlikely that any of us will gain the kind of platform Tebow has, but our witness is equally valuable.  Tim Tebow is worthy of my admiration, but not because of his public piety.

I am impressed with Tebow, not because he prays before football games and thanks Jesus in every interview, but because he plays hard and has earned the respect of his teammates and coaches (1 Tim. 3:7). It’s strange to me that Christians so often neglect to applaud these types of achievements and instead gravitate to patting people on the back for “bolder” acts like praying in public and thanking God in interviews.  The praise Tebow receives for being a hard worker, a dedicated player, and a team leader says more about his faith than his pregame prayers. If we fail to recognize that, we undervalue our own witness and the importance of our individual lives as platforms from which to preach the gospel.

Oh, did I mention that he keeps praying on the football field and constantly talking about Jesus? That is what is really driving everyone nuts. Kurt Warner, the old NFL poster-boy Christian, thinks Tebow should tone it down a notch. Jake Plummer basically says, “Hey, we get it. You love Jesus. Give us a break with it already.” And Tebow? He just smiles and says, “I can’t help talking about Jesus. He’s my Savior. I love Him.”

It came as no surprise to me, then, that Tebow’s name came up at church during Sunday school. What was my opinion on the matter? Is Tebow being persecuted? Should he tone it down? Aren’t Plummer and Warner basically saying the same thing? My thoughts were a bit confused at the time, but here is what I think now after a little reflection.

I don’t think it should bother us that Tebow is irking both the godly and the godless with his displays of public piety. Could it be that he is praying after touchdowns because he is like the Pharisee who enjoyed praying in public? Perhaps. But couldn’t it also be the case that Tebow really does think about Jesus so much that he couldn’t care less who is watching him, like David dancing before the ark? That could be the reason he does it, couldn’t it?

I started contemplating the matter more closely. If he does his public displays for attention, then Tebow has his reward. No sweat, really. Christians have done far more publicly embarrassing things than pray like hypocrites. But if it is the latter, and I really hope that it is, imagine a guy whose first impulse is to celebrate his every success with Jesus Christ. What if his first thought is not for his stats, his next contract, or for the millions of people watching, but to his brother in the flesh, his Savior who bore away his sins, his best friend and confidant, Jesus Christ? And if that is really the case, do I want to be the guy who says, “Dude, could you tone down your thankfulness a notch and just play football? You’re making me uncomfortable with your Ned Flanders act.”

Uh, no. I’m not going to be that guy. (Things didn’t turn out so well for David’s wife who despised his exuberance.) Instead, I am going to give Tebow the benefit of the doubt, as I should every other brother and sister. I’m going to pray for him to hold up under the scrutiny, and I will pray for him to be able to act with poise and dignity for Christ’s sake underneath the intense spotlight that the NFL brings.

And I am going to pull for the Denver Broncos because of him. I can’t help it. I’ve always had a soft spot for the Broncos anyway.

What happened at Penn State is more than a typical sports-related scandal – it’s a moral failure that violates inherent human law and a social agreement of common human decency. The public is rightly outraged. But what does it mean? What do we do now? Why did it happen? And what can we learn from it? This week, editor-in-chief Richard Clark hosts two CaPC writers, Nick Olson (who wrote yesterday’s must-read article addressing this issue) and Jason Morehead who discuss the ins and outs of the situation.

Every week, various Christ and Pop Culture writers delve deeper into recent articles and address some of the bigger issues in popular culture.

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But a congenial-seeming town filled with congenial-seeming people produced a bit of a moralistic facade, propped up by a town pride which could sometimes manifest as indignation at the sins of “those other places.” We forgot that evil is not rooted in a place, but in personhood. And the most dangerous evil is that which appears outwardly good, but is, in fact, rooted in the same corrupting foundation of selfishness. The myth of Jerry Sandusky’s intentions with the 2nd Mile charity—and even of Joe Paterno’s no-nonsense tenure—have been exposed, and as a result, so too has the mythical moralism of Happy Valley.

Just before entering the fourth grade, I moved with my family to Bellefonte, Pennsylvania. The small town is about a seven-minute drive on the neighboring highway to Beaver Stadium and Penn State University, home of the Nittany Lions and the winningest, most highly thought of coach in college football history. For most of my life, Centre County has been where I have called home. Though I did not attend Penn State University, I have always been a loyal fan of the team and an admirer of the “Public Ivy” school. After earning my master’s degree and getting married, I am back in Centre County with my wife and our son. Living in Penn State country with our little boy, I can tell you that the past few days have been more than a little unsettling in the midst of explosive child molestation allegations that, in different ways, involve all of the University’s biggest names.

The former Penn State football team defensive coordinator and one-time heir apparent to Joe Paterno, Jerry Sandusky, has been charged with sexual assault of at least eight minor male children, occurring over the course of several years both before and after his retirement from coaching. It appears his access to the boys was the direct result of the “Second Mile” program that he started—a program aimed at helping underprivileged children. Two University officials have been charged for not giving all of the information they knew about the scandal and for not contacting police when they first heard a chilling eyewitness account of a sodomized 10 year old in a coaches’ shower in an empty facility on a Friday night. While not in legal trouble, Joe Paterno’s moral credibility is being skewered by the media for his role of omission in not “doing more” than reporting knowledge of the incident to his superiors when he first heard of it. To some degree, perhaps varying in explicit detail, the eyewitness who is now a coach on the team, Paterno, and two other Penn State officials all knew about the horrific incident as early as 2002, and they were familiar with allegations against Sandusky dating back to 1998 (Sandusky unexpectedly retired in 1999). Sandusky was on campus using the facilities as recently as two weeks ago.

Two days before the scandal hit the news, I received for my birthday a framed picture of my 9-month-old son wearing a Penn State sweatshirt. The picture, sitting on my desk beside my laptop as I write this, elicits in me a broad range of emotions. On the one hand, growing up in State College fosters a unique place-identity relationship. There is a sense of wholesomeness, family, generational devotion, commitment, and solidarity. Two days ago, that picture reminded me of New Year’s Day bowl games at my Grandma’s house, all of us packed in the living room cheering on the team as a family. It reminds me of working the ticket booth with my dad before the game, then going in the stadium and watching with him on the field. It is now one of the most tragically ironic mementos in my home.

It is this irony that has the Blithedale Farm formerly known as Happy Valley disoriented. We have much to be proud of, but for too long we have lived within the self-enclosed delusion that our place—and the identity we took from it—was the paragon of righteousness. This has been the often-subtle problem with the Penn State culture and its iconic, fatherly representative, Paterno: Much of the undeniable good that has come from this college town, rooted in the best of intentions, has in many ways produced a white-washed shell of itself.

Paterno, who some have described as a kind of deity with his own mythos, has long been the face of not just the University and the town, but also, some would argue, the whole state. He was often cited as the embodiment of “all that is right with college football.” He  prided himself on making sure the program was run with moral conviction, on making sure his players cared about academics, and on making sure that doing things “the right way” always preceded winning. It seems more than plausible that Paterno—and certain people within the University—became more concerned with preserving this image than with doing all that they could to pursue justice for the helpless children who, it is fair to note, were dissociated from the program, and therefore, more easily expendable, so long as Sandusky seemed to be out of their hands—or, at least out of the spotlight.

I do feel sorry for Paterno to a degree; I believe much of what he has done for the University, for the area, and for young men has been tremendous and exemplary. To be clear: Paterno did not commit the same crime, but this does not in any way excuse the culpability of his response to the knowledge of Sandusky and how the quality of that response affected any victim since 2002. I feel sorry for Paterno in the sense that I wish he had done more, so that he could have finished his career in a way befitting most of the other choices he made in his life, but I do not feel that his firing is somehow unfair or undeserved. Excuses would only illustrate further  the culture of cover up at Penn State—and the tendency to be more concerned with football and image than with the humble, repentant, and transparent gestures necessary in the aftermath of a scandal.

The theme that has surrounded talk of Paterno and his colleagues the last 48 hours is telling: What was done was “not enough.” Indeed, that is often the case for all of us. But the revelation of humanity’s moral shortcomings is a humbling shock to the system for the self-righteous person or the community that perceives itself to be a paradise of sorts. Moralism is just as problematic as explicit immorality; both are rooted in a self-absorbed pride that says either “I am good” or “I can do what I want.” The nature of this pride is rooted in the self-deception to make oneself out to be a god. For the moralist to keep up appearances, he or she must soon take up compromising tactics to maintain the unreality of his or her self-righteousness. Sooner or later, the facade of morality becomes explicit for what it really is—be it a sex scandal, a cover up of a sex scandal, or a violent riot.

People have been quick to dump burning coals on everyone involved in the scandal, and rightly so. I would hope that child molestation would still be a sharply foul odor to our moral senses. But we should also question the cultural conditions that might lead a man into a downward spiral to the point where he, a 60 year old, could sexually exploit and damage adolescent boys. Make no mistake, if Sandusky is a monster, then our culture is a horror story: 1 in 6 boys are molested by age 16, and 1 in 4 girls are molested by 18. If, at root, the problem includes pride, selfishness, and the propensity to view other people as objects for our own personal pleasure, then perhaps we need to consider not just the monstrosity that Jerry Sandusky devolved into, but the foundational conditions for this monstrosity that are also at root in all of us—even in Happy Valley.

I only know all of this because the teachings of Christianity have confronted my own moralism. It is a recurring confrontation. It has held a mirror up to my own pride and self-absorption—my own tendency to self-righteously compare myself to others. But I’ve found that recognizing my essential sickness was the first humbling step toward a continuing process of being restored to a more authentic goodness: one that is rooted in genuine love for the other and is forthright with a genuine acknowledgement of my own inability to do things “the right way” apart from love for God. This scandal has left me feeling very sad and hopeful that grace would come in the midst of this destruction. Only His grace can restore the scars left on the victimized children or offer forgiveness to the people who failed in their moral obligation.

At a candlelight vigil on campus Friday night, with over 10,000 students in attendance, new roots appeared to be laid when the main speaker stepped onto Old Main and said, “We are Penn State. And we are hurting. And we are sorry.”

According to Tebowing.com, to participate in the phenomenon of “Tebowing,” simply “get down on a knee and start praying, even if everyone else around you is doing something completely different.” If you take a picture of yourself Tebowing and send it to the site, it might even get posted, garnering you the glorious modern crown of 15 minutes of digital fame. (And it’s also ”safer than planking.”)

Tebowing is inspired by Denver Broncos quarterback Tim Tebow, who is known for unsubtly kneeling to pray in the midst of touchdown celebrations. While I’m certainly not an expert in the arena of high-dollar gridiron, from the articles I’ve read, it appears that Tebow is a rare find: a good, sincere man who is simply trying to follow Jesus well in his vocation and moment. Whatever my opinions on sports-star-brand evangelism may be (short answer: I think it’s usually annoying and unhelpful), I am very glad men and women like him exist.

Obviously, Tebowing is making fun of an act of prayer. For the sake of space, I’ll dub this sort of thing “religious humor” and then ask, “Is religious humor OK?”

I have mixed emotions about religious humor. When a satirical jab or poignant one-liner reveals a thoughtless or hypocritical aspect of modern faith, I think: “Ha! Exactly what was needed.” Other times, an attempt at a topical quip or pointed zinger toward things of faith will strike me in an awkward way, and I think: “Huh. I’m not sure that was helpful.”

And so here, I have mixed emotions about Tebowing. Taking a knee during a touchdown celebration is well-intentioned, but it can look kind of silly and standoffish. The current Tebowing-mania satirically points out the awkward reality that our best intentions can sometimes be construed as self-righteousness by the watching world. That sort of satire can be helpful to the church at large—it reminds us that we should pay more attention to the way we go about things in public.

Then again, Tim Tebow is a good guy with good intentions. We’re not talking about a self-aggrandizing prosperity preacher or shock-jock xenophobe; this is a 24-year-old professional athlete aware of his position of influence and trying to glorify God through his actions. Poking fun at that, from my in-house perspective, makes me a bit uncomfortable.

If you were to corner me and require a definite stance, I’d say that while I won’t be participating in Tebowing, I also won’t be irritated with those who find it funny. Like political satire, religious satire can be an avenue to elucidate the complexities of Christian morality, whether it comes from outside or inside the church. In other words, we should be humbled to the point of laughter when we see how silly our attempted approximations at godliness often are.

Morality is a complex thing, because human beings are complex creatures. We do the right things for the wrong reasons and the wrong things for the right reasons—and everything in between. Often we aren’t even aware of our true intentions until we mature and gain perspective. Even more often, we misread and wrongly assume we know the intentions of others. Satire and religious humor can bring this to light.

You could even argue that evangelism itself is an exercise in satire—in teaching humanity how to laugh at itself: “Ha! Do you really think all of our efforts are enough to please a holy God? Please get in on the joke: Come sit at the jovial table of heaven with the rest of us beggars and receive God’s grace!”

Lebron James is currently one of the most reviled figures in sports.  Whether you use radio, print, blogs, or Comic Sans, if you are a sports fan outside of Miami you have probably taken at least a few minutes out of the past week to do two things: dislike Lebron, and revel in his defeat (not merely, we should note, the victory of the Dallas Mavericks).

I want to challenge you on that.

Why do we so dislike Lebron? After all, it is actually pretty difficult to challenge his actions of the last year on a moral basis.

Yes, he left the team that drafted him and relied on him.  But he played out his full contract without significant whining or complaining.  He’s really on much better moral ground than Carmelo Anthony or Allen Iverson, whose whining and complaining about their situations forced trades their teams would not have wanted otherwise.  And yet somehow we don’t hate the Knicks (or some random Turkish team) like we hate the Heat.

Yes, he hurt a lot of feelings when he left Cleveland.  But he’s never been accused of rape, like Kobe Bryant, or domestic violence, like Jason Kidd.  And yet the sports world mostly forgave Kobe before those accusations were answered, and we certainly didn’t see widespread hatred for Kidd in this series.

Yes, he showed some disloyalty to his home state.  But that doesn’t compare to the massive disloyalty displayed by Tiger Woods toward his wife and family.  And you can’t tell me the sports world isn’t already rooting for him to start stacking up major wins again.

The fact is, contrary to Charles Barkley’s fears, we don’t honestly want role models. We want gods.

Perhaps more specifically, we want Olympic heroes.  We want figures who are admired because they push the boundaries of human possibility, because they challenge the limitations of our physiques, and because we are excited by those whose athletic endeavors seem to reach levels of transcendence above the dirt and grime of normal human existence.  The ancient Greeks had their stories, their Illiads and Odysseys, their myths and legends.  We have sports.

Don’t believe me?  Tell me whether we want the following things from our favorite athletes.

1. Takes on great odds without too much assistance.

2. Is humbly loyal to his (or her) roots.

3. Values hard work and those who work hard.

4. Displays extreme dedication to their craft.

5. Appreciates the history of their endeavor and humbly seeks their place in that history.

6. Shows creativity and intelligence in their endeavor when it is most needed.

7. Comes through in the most difficult of circumstances (i.e. Clutch play in crunch time)

8. Accepts the role of leadership among their peers.

9. Reaches great heights of accomplishment, both in numbers and in victory (specifically, in a championship).

The fascinating thing here is that within one year Lebron James – despite being the most physically gifted basketball player since Michael Jordan (at least) – seemed to violate almost every single one of the items above that we use as a template for greatness in our sports heroes.  His actions seem to us disloyal, weak, cheap, and self-serving.  His play this year has seemed to capitalize on weakness and fold under pressure, while allowing someone else to take the reigns of responsibility.

Now look, I appreciate all of this.  I will likely never be a fan of Lebron James, and will tend to cheer for the success of others who better exemplify what I want from an athletic hero.

But I think we as Christians must be very, very careful about our vitriol toward a very young man who was given everything he ever wanted and has had very little strong guidance in his life.  This is not a man on a rampage against God, or a man who treats women like property, or a person dedicated to injuring opposing players.  He certainly has his fair share of overconfidence and pride, but that’s not really in short supply in the NBA.

My fear is that while watching sports, Christians desire Olympic heroes more than hearts that honor God.  We value achievement and celebration of human spirit above faithfulness and a sense that this is not our home.  We demand victory, along with the rest of the world, because we desire to vicariously live through our athletes and view ourselves atop the Tower of Babel.

Lebron has a lot of growing up to do, nobody can argue that point.  So far, he seems to be a sad story of incredible potential without enough direction.  He needs to find wisdom.

But friends, let’s be careful to love what is good, to hate what is evil, and to have compassion for a world lost in selfishness and rebellion against God.  Let’s be careful to praise actions that honor God and not promote virtues that have nothing to do with the life He desires for us.  And let’s celebrate sports with joy, but without hatred toward those who are merely trying to find their way.  Perhaps then, we’ll finally be able to back away and see that the great danger of pride finds its home not in Lebron, but in ourselves.

Yes, run.

According to an article posted on NOLA.com (a New Orleans, Louisiana, news site), Oprah’s 1994 marathon finish made long-distance running “accessible” to the person who valued fitness but not necessarily competition. Since then, long-distance racing has increased exponentially.

I’m one of those noncompetitive fitness runners.

My history with running goes way back to my junior high days—even before Oprah’s marathon feat—when I ran with large-lens, clunky glasses. (Yes, way chic, 80s style.)

High school running was slightly better—I shed some (some) of my awkwardness by trading the glasses for contacts—but I saw little improvement over the years because I’ve never been much for self-inflicted pain. After high school, running became something I did for just a few weeks every year when I got really motivated to get in shape.

By November 2008, I was 36 years old, completely out of shape, and suffering from an all-around lack of discipline. I had morphed into a real-life Goldilocks, always wanting things to be just right—not too hot, not too cold; not too big, not too small; not too hard, not too soft. This mentality left me a very small range in which I could roam without being a big wimpy whiner.

That’s when I started to sense that internal nudge of conviction. I lived a very comfortable life, but I was always seeking more—more rest, more soothing, more entertainment . . . more, more, more. Living for comfort caused me to miss out on lots of good things that would require a bit of discomfort in return.

I no longer wanted to live a safe, little, comfortable life, but I didn’t have a clue how to actually live for more than my own comfort. So I asked God to show me. That’s when I began to see how running could be the training ground for dialing back my Goldilocks Mentality.

It took months of running to build my physical and mental stamina. It hurt. A lot. I feared I would give up before being able to run more than 20 minutes straight, so I registered for a half marathon slated for one year away. Such a goal would require more continuous running than I could fathom. It scared me into a regular pattern of shuffling that seasoned runners call training. The Lord met me on those jaunts, helping me take a few more steps every time I wanted to quit.

A year later, I toed the start line of that half marathon with fear and trepidation; I crossed the finish with great relief.

But finishing one half marathon didn’t eradicate the Goldilocks Mentality from my being. Just as physical fitness isn’t a destination so much as a journey, the same is true for spiritual fitness. I cannot expect one year of stretching to last a lifetime. I need regular, ongoing stretching to maintain the ground gained and to keep pressing ahead.

I’m not sure why other people run, but I’m running because I don’t want comfort to steal my life away from me anymore. Oprah may have ushered in the long-distance running craze, but it is God who has made me a runner who lives for more than my own comfort.

I am a passionate fan of college football. I grew up rarely ever missing College Gameday on Saturday mornings, planned my weekends around my favorite team’s schedule, Auburn (War Eagle!), every year I bought the newest NCAA football game by EA Sports, I played (I use that term loosely) college football for two years while attending Samford University, and I even keep a watchful eye on recruiting buzz around the South East and to see where Auburn is stacking up. Over the years, however, the layers of the sport I love have been pulled back more and more, and I do not like what it has revealed.

Yesterday one of the highest touted and most successful coaches in college football resigned his duties amid a wealth of NCAA infractions and attempts to lie and cover them up. It seemed inevitable that Jim Tressel, formerly the head coach of the Ohio State Buckeyes, would either be fired or forced to resign, and this owed, not to the violations committed by the players, but entirely to the fact that 78 out of 81 coaches, across all NCAA sports, have lied to their governing body regarding known infractions and survived to coach again at the same school. Tressel left at just the right time too, because later last night Sports Illustrated produced an article indicating that he had a history of rules violations dating back to his assistant coaching days.

This is disturbing on a number of levels. For one, Jim Tressel is a man highly regarded as a father figure and a man of strong Christian character to his players, staff, and fans abroad, and his actions aren’t matching up with his perceived identity (for a great response to this see this article by CaPC writer Adam Carrington). That is not the most concerning issue to me, because all of human history is full of sinful people who fail one another and who do not measure up to the standards they profess, and that includes me.

What is most disturbing to me is how surprising this whole debacle has not been across the landscape of college football. Noted ESPN analyst Joe Schad shared that very sentiment yesterday when he tweeted, “I feel numbed to the # of major programs/coaches/players committing violations. #hardtoshocknow.” Sure, the story made big news and lit up the message boards, but for how long? It is so shocking that people are quickly becoming more interested in, “Who will Ohio State hire next?” Within an hour I saw article giving lists of the best candidates out there for the new job opening.

In a culture driven by success and the desire to be the Next Big Thing, it has become too easy to simply acknowledge wrong doing and move on. Whatever helps a team get the best recruits, win the most games and bring in the most money is permissible as long as they don’t get caught or its not too serious. Thus, it has become common place for coaches to cheat and boosters to give $100 handshakes and players expect an easy ride to the top. As long as the team is winning most fans don’t seem to care. People even make silly attempts to justify their team’s particular sin with arguments that go something like, “if you’re not cheating you’re not trying hard enough,” “everyone breaks the rules, some are just better at it than others,” or “there’s not a team out there that isn’t breaking the rules in some way, shape, or form.” As true as those statements may be, they do not justify any act of cheating, and where cheating occurs it should be dealt with in a manner that reverberates through the participants and causes them to reflect deeply on their culpability, rather than enabling them to react with mere acknowledgment in passing.

As Christians we deal everyday in a world that will continuously fall short of the glory for which God created it, namely Himself. The nature of sin permeates everything, including my beloved college football, and it is evident in seedy dealings revealed by investigation after investigation. In the midst of all these things I am pressed to not move on so quickly. Sin is incredibly destructive and can only do more damage if dealt with lightly. When I sin it is not merely enough for me to recognize the sin, but rather I am called to dig deeper in order that the root of it might be exposed and dealt with accordingly. Similarly, when we see these acts of deception and cheating in college football we should not be satisfied with surface-level dealings and punishments. For the sake of the sport, but more importantly for the sake of the student athletes involved, the deep roots of the problems with college football should be exposed and dealt with justly. If not, we will continue to grow more and more comfortable with swimming in the murky waters that we once saw as repulsive.

Nevertheless, reality demonstrates that we will not only experience difficulty, but will likely respond to it in a way that will force the question, “How will I respond better next time?” This is the question the Los Angels Lakers should be asking themselves now. The big news in the sports world Sunday night should have been how the NBA champions for the past two seasons were quickly ousted from the playoffs in a blowout loss to the Dallas Mavericks (and a 4-0 series sweep to boot), but a couple of LA Lakers chose not to go quietly into the off-season.

In the Western Conference Semifinals the Dallas Mavericks jumped to a 3-0 lead in the best of seven series, though they were given almost no chance to beat the perennial finals contestants. With a 3-0 lead and home court advantage it seemed nothing could go wrong for the Mavs leading in to game four. Then, Kobe Bryant, arguably one of the all-time greats of the NBA, guaranteed a series victory for the Lakers, something that no team has ever done after being down 3-0 in a best of seven series. Well, I’m sure Hollywood is glad they didn’t go ahead and book the movie deal because apparently the Mavs didn’t take to kindly to Kobe’s prediction (or all the hopes for the next great basketball movie since Hoosiers and Space Jam) because game four was practically over by halftime with the Mavs up by 24 points.

After being down 24 points in the first half the Lakers didn’t come out of the Locker room fighting their way back into the game. Instead, they came out dropping shoulders, throwing bows and nearly inciting fights during the fourth quarter. As I watched replay after replay of Lamar Odom doing his best Ray Lewis impersonation by lowering his shoulder into Dirk Nowitzki for absolutely no reason I was absolutely disgusted with the lack of class and respect. Then, not even a minute later, Andrew Bynum throws an intentional elbow into the ribs of a defenseless JJ Barea on his way to the basket. This only served to feed my contempt for the Lakers and what seemed to be an absolute lack of sportsmanship and grace in the face of sure defeat.

So, what gives in the Lakers’ fourth quarter response to losing big and why should Christians care? Better yet, how can Christians grow and learn from watching the game and the innumerable amount of replays that follow? We should care when we witness things like this in our world. We will one day be forced to respond to hardships of some form or fashion. Thus, we should take every opportunity to be conformed more into the image of Christ.  Sometimes it will be through the faithful, gracious response of others to adverse situations in life. Other times it can be through two grown men losing all sensibility during a basketball game and causing harm to others through their malicious fouls.

We should learn from these experiences throughout life, but our learning must be guided with the understanding that these situations are not moments whereby we get to express the greatness of our own character over that of another. It is not an opportunity to boast. This is the fault I made with the judgment I cast on Lamar Odom, Andrew Bynum and the Lakers. My first thought was how much greater my moral fiber was than theirs. I was more concerned with how great I am and not so concerned about who Christ is. Truthfully, my response showed the depth of my own sin and pride.

As I reflect on the Gospel now I can’t help but think of Jesus being condemned to death through the angry and impassioned voices of people yelling “Crucify Him, crucify Him.” One response would be to say, “Look at those horrible sinners yelling at an innocent man like that. I’m glad I’m not like them!” I believe, however, the more proper response for the Christian to be, “It is but by the grace of God that I am not still chanting those very words.” Dear Christian, do not be quick, as I was, to boast of your greatness when another falls. Recognize it as not merely an opportunity to see what not to do, but also as a chance to plow up the fallow ground of hardened pride that can easily be mistaken for fertile soil. So, good is the question, “what will you do when the chips are down.” Just as good though is the question, “what are you really thinking when someone else drops their chips?”

I was recently taken to the roller derby here in Los Angeles by a friend of mine. The LA Derby Dolls, a league of several different teams, have their own rink, which was where the Drew Barrymore film Whip It was apparently made. This is where we went to see my first roller derby match. My friend recently began taking roller derby classes, which are a combination of fitness and lessons on how to play the game. She was encouraging me to join her, and I have to say, I was both scared and highly intrigued.

When I went to the match, I found it was like nothing I’ve ever really seen before. The whole event is a spectacular, theatrical mash-up of sport and sub-culture. I suppose it must be a lot like live wrestling events, except it’s a little more out there because it features women in the role of the body-bashing athlete. I have never been to a live wrestling event though, so that is just a guess.

But I did find myself wanting to participate. As I watched the “jammers” try to break through the pack or zoom past by the skin of their teeth, and as I heard the crowds cheer, I thought, “yeah, that would be all right.” But it is a given that you will get beaten up. I have no idea how many players went down that night, but I think I counted three refs falling hard, usually the victims of skaters accidentally sweeping their legs as they suffered their own wipeouts.

Roller derby skaters will get hurt. The only question is how badly. They wear helmets, mouth guards, and other padding where needed, but it is still a given. So my question is, in a sport like this, are we dishonoring the temple of God by purposely placing ourselves in a situation where we know our bodies could be damaged? Are we not using wisdom? I know there are situations where physical pain is a necessity to accomplish what God asks us to do, but martyrdom is a far cry from something like this, which is at best for fun and at worst for the sake of our own glory.

I mentioned football at the beginning of the article. I would ask the same questions about that sport. There are other issues I want to address regarding my experience at the roller derby, but for now, I would like to see if anyone else can weigh in on this one. And does the fact that women are the ones engaging in this sport make a difference at all? It’s a tough call.

One could say that I didn’t pick Ohio State; Ohio State was chosen for me. My father and grandfather loved OSU before I existed. They brought me up in that love. Such affection became part of our own family bond. My memories of times spent with family invariably include Michigan or bowl game parties and cold afternoons in the Horseshoe, all spent with my parents, brother, and grandparents.  I even brought my future wife to a game (just as friends), neither of us knowing that the trip was only the beginning.

I recount all these memories (and recall myriad more) with a heavy heart. In a press conference, Ohio State’s head football coach, Jim Tressel, admitted to knowing of player violations of NCAA rules and not reporting them. He failed to do so for at least seven months, till the story came out by other means. This admission in itself was jarring. Not because I ever believed that countless violations of the restrictions on players and programs didn’t occur. Nor that I thought Ohio State players, many being 18-20 year old kids, would not make mistakes and do the wrong thing on more than one occasion. It wasn’t even that I thought the coaching profession was one of rigorous ethics and upstanding human beings.

But I thought Coach Tressel was different. Even during the tough times for the program, the embarrassing losses on the national stage, the inability to beat the SEC in bowl games, and all the pronunciations that Ohio State couldn’t cut it, I always believed that under Tressel, the coaches and administration would be above reproach. I always admired the way he conducted himself on and off the field. He exuded class and character. I may not have always trusted him to make the right play call on third down; I always trusted him to make the right call when good and bad were involved. His declaration to be a believer in Christ further cemented my high opinion and unwavering trust. Here was a man to emulate. Here was a man to be.

In the press conference, Coach Tressel seemed dodgy, unwilling to fully apologize and admit to his wrong action. His explanations did not make sense in any other way than a man caught in undeniable wrong-doing. Watching it, quite frankly, made me feel ill. The paltry sanctions placed on him by Ohio State will certainly not stand. They will be increased exponentially to the detriment of the school in general and the football program in particular. It is a sad, terrible day for an Ohio State and Jim Tressel fan.

So, what am I to do? What are any of us to do when our heroes fail to live up to the standards that made them heroic to us in the first place? Do we mock his or her claims about what is right, what is true, good, and virtuous? Do we become cynical to the point of losing all affection, callous to the brink of despondence?

Mockery and cynicism, as attractive as they may look, do not provide the answer. There is an old saying that hypocrisy is the price vice pays to virtue. Many times these days we reduce all virtue to consistency, only attacking the sin of saying one thing and doing another. Yet such a move is dangerous and simplistic. Its danger lay in what it reduces the good to in our estimation and thus in our actions. It is simplistic because we should know that human beings are caught in a tension, one of knowing the good but struggling between wanting and hating that good. As Paul tells us in Romans 7, this struggle does not end when faith in Christ begins. It is a war constant and bloody, fought till our dying breath. In hypocrisy, as unacceptable as it is, at least the perpetrator must pay some credence to what is right, even if his actions belittle it. It gives something on which to argue to the man and to the world about what should have been done.

Furthermore, the downfall of those we respect and admire reminds us of two great truths about Christianity. First, the Bible is full of flawed, even terrible men. David and Jonah all were guilty of horrific sins, with Jacob being not really any better naturally than his brother Essau. There we have racists, murders, adulterers, and swindlers, each of which in some way is considered a hero of the Faith. God used each in spite of, perhaps even in consideration of, their flaws. Nor did Christianity’s truth or falsity rest on their performance.

Second, humanity as a whole and the individuals that comprise it will let us down sooner or later. We cannot and should not hope for perfection and thus should have added reason to not place others on such a pedestal that our admiration turns to worship. Instead, we must look to Christ. He is singular in his faithfulness, in his truthfulness, in his abosolutely unswerving purity and love. God is faithful, powerful, and just. In placing our absolute trust in God alone, we fight off idolatry and recognize the need for submission and salvation in all of us, heroes or villains.

So what does this mean for me, for Jim Tressel, and for Ohio State? I don’t know how God will use these events or how I will think of Jim Tressel in ten years. Will it be a story of repentance, forgiveness, and reconcilation, one that gives a faint glimpse of the Gospel? Or will it be one of hard-heartedness and evasion that leaves a long-standing blight on the man and the University?

I don’t know. I do hope it is the former. Whether or not that is the case, I hope that God will give me the discernment and the heart to fight mockery and cynicism. I hope he will continue to equip me to fight sin in my own heart and not just point it out in those I admire. Finally, I hope he continues to guide me to not place my absolute trust in other men but only in his perfection faithfulness.

The Nielsen Co. said Monday that an estimated 111 million people watched the Green Bay Packers outlast the Pittsburgh Steelers in professional football’s ultimate game. That tops the 106.5 million who watched the 2010 game between New Orleans and Indianapolis.

The series finale of “M-A-S-H” had held the title of the most-watched TV show in the United States for 27 years. It is now No. 3.

What should we make of the Super Bowl?  Or perhaps more pointedly, what should we make of the massive ordeal it has become in America.  If 111 million people are watching, it’s clear that it’s a big deal.  Probably as many tune in for the commercials as for the game, not to mention the spectacle that the halftime show has become.  Isn’t this all idolatry?  Isn’t all this time, energy, and excitement devoted to this game amount to a massive waste of time?

Here is the issue with idolatry though–its a heart issue, and there are two types.  First there is the worship of graven images–this would amount to valuing anything above the Lord.  Second there is making an image of G0d (think golden calves) which amounts to making God out to be less than He is–Aaron said of the golden calves, “these are your gods, O Israel, who brought you up out of the land of Egypt” (Ex. 32:4).  The latter type of idolatry is a bit easier to pinpoint as it diminishes or misrepresents God, the former has to do with how we spend our time, money, and energy and is harder to uncover (if we have made the SB an idol, it falls in the former category).

So are people too into the Super Bowl?  Yes probably.  Do I think its weird that churches schedule their events around it?  Yes, it is weird because after all what you have in the Super Bowl is a bunch of grown men throwing a ball around and hitting each other–if we are honest, it is a little weird that we get so excited about that.  Its also weird that such behavior draws such a massive audience (I am a football fan I just have to admit its strange that its as popular as it is).  Do I think churches are wrong to change their schedule for the Super Bowl?  No I don’t.  Meeting together for the preaching of God’s Word, prayer, and fellowship are required of every local church (Acts 6:4; Heb. 10:24-25).  So unless your church’s only meeting for preaching, prayer, and fellowship is on Sunday night during the Super Bowl, I don’t think you are in sin for rearranging your schedule for the big game.  There is no weekly quota of preaching, prayer, and biblical fellowship in the Bible, those things are certainly more important than watching a football game but a categorical labeling of a church that watches the Super Bowl in the place of some secondary church activity is judgmental and unbiblical.

So the question of whether we are too excited about the Super Bowl is hard to answer.  Some people probably are but then again some people have a fascination with cheeseburgers that borders on idolatry. We ought to be careful when using broad brush strokes to paint cultural events as sinful when its our individual relationship to those events that God cares about. Fighting sin on a cultural level is nigh on impossible.

There are some good things about the Super Bowl.  One is that it involves a sport that requires some level of physical fitness which is good (we might debate this with regard to linemen and whether they are healthy but that is another discussion).  Sports further promote team work, I happen to be a competitive soccer coach and I could share a great deal with you about the many benefits of team sports.

Additionally, I think the Super Bowl illustrates our desire for community and shared experiences which are God-given wirings.  Most people don’t watch the Super Bowl by themselves and while there are certainly more eternally valuable things for us to center ourselves around–the Super Bowl at the very least gives people an opportunity to spend time together and reveals how much people want to be in community.

So how should Christians feel about the Super Bowl?  I think that is up to the individual conscience.  I won’t be boycotting it any time soon as I don’t think its fair to those I want to impact for the kingdom to accuse them of idolatry when I cannot honestly tell you if they have misappropriated the event.  After all watching football is fun. I went to a Super Bowl party after teaching my community group Sunday night (we started watching from the beginning thanks to modern technology) and I had a great time despite how terrible the halftime show was!   So how should Christians feel about the Super Bowl?  I suppose the same way that we feel about everything else in the world–one foot in and one foot out (John 17:15-16).

P.S. Someone recently asked me what I thought of the halftime show and asked if I would consider writing about it.  I did, consider it that is, and I couldn’t come up with anything other than the halftime show greatly saddened me.  I saw someone on twitter write that they have never once wanted Kanye West to interrupt a performance more–I think I agree.  If the average person watched that and was impressed … that is bad news for humanity.

P.P.S. Others have asked me what I thought of the commercials.  I didn’t see all of them as we DVRed the game but Pop Matters has highlighted some of the better ones and Think Christian has thoughtfully discussed some others.  I will say that the single commercial that irritated me the most was the Eminem’s Chrysler commercial and the most delightful commercial was definitely the Volkswagon little Darth Vader commercial.

• President George W. Bush’s new book, Decision Points and the concept of legacy
• Kanye West and the graceless response to his antics
• Cam Newton and the mid-season crisis.
• Waiting for Superman and the failing education system.
• Thanksgiving and a pressure-less holiday.

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We love feedback! If you’d like to respond you can comment on the website, send an email to christandpopculture@gmail.com or comment below. We would love to respond to feedback on the show, so do it now! Subscribe to us in iTunes by clicking here. While you’re at it, review us in iTunes! We’ll love you forever!

This week:

• Violent video games and the Supreme Court
• Mid-Term Elections and a fickle public
• Halloween and scary media
• Brette Favre, Randy Moss and ethical sportsmen
• The Rocky Horror Picture Show & The Rocky Horror Glee Show

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We love feedback! If you’d like to respond you can comment on the website, send an email to christandpopculture@gmail.com or comment below. We would love to respond to feedback on the show, so do it now! Subscribe to us in iTunes by clicking here. While you’re at it, review us in iTunes! We’ll love you forever!

This Week: As college football starts to ramp up, we share this meditation by Chase Livingston on what it means to be a fan.

I grew up at the tail end of an empire. That empire was known as the Crimson Tide. As far as I knew, every living soul loved Alabama Football with the exception of terrorists and baby killers. Their number one fan just happened to be my old man. Once he traded our bunk beds for a blanket which had been custom made for a former Tide player. We had the commemorative Bear Bryant Coca-Cola bottles, as did all of my extended family. I had a helmet lamp with a battered shade and framed pictures of “the Bear” as well as the newspaper which had announced his death in a display case. My room was white with red trim to match my genetically-inherited fandom and Dad completed it by painting an elephant on the wall.

When I was born, I was brought home in an oversized tee which boasted me as a “future player”. The red of that shirt effectively brought out the pink of my complexion. That was my father’s dream; that I would grow up to be a star athlete for the Crimson Tide. Dad was especially proud of book reports I did on Bear Bryant, Joe Namath, and similarly, Knute Rockne. I was excited to sign up for midget league football but as it turned out I was not as naturally, athletically gifted as we had hoped. It wasn’t all bad. I did have a few glorious moments as nose guard. Nonetheless, it was not the game for me. When it ceased to be fun, Dad assured me I didn’t have to play anymore. Still not wanting to be a “quitter” of any stripe I stuck it out for another miserable season before dropping the ball (pun intended).

In 6th grade, it suddenly was fashionable to fan other teams and to dis on Alabama. Dad explained to me that these kids were fickle and that anyone could pull for the current favorite. A true fan stood by his team through it all. No longer a Heisman candidate, I transitioned my ambition to being one of these true fans. I wore a sweatshirt, one we had bought for Dad, which listed state and national championships among other impressive stats. My knowledge of sports was very limited outside the contents of that sweater. Still, I debated those points with my wishy-washy classmates. After awhile, seeing it was futile, I bored of the discussion. I lost interest in watching the games too as I hardly understood them.

After Stallings’ resignation the university’s football program would appear dead in the water for the next decade. The critics were giddy to report the empire’s postmortem status. This was a rough patch, to say the least, a fact best evidenced by the record number of head coaches over the next several years. If ever there was a true fan, my Dad was it. He remained hopeful season after season that soon enough the empire would be reborn. He explained that this process was a rebuilding. Year after year, he’d assert that this would be their year. Every year when that didn’t happen, the sadder the story seemed. I wanted to believe him but it was so hard to. Once upon a time, I had loved them because he loved them. I had rooted for them because he did. I had taken his word for it but now I had questions. While his enthusiasm had inspired me along the way I hardly saw the point anymore.

Last year as the Titans blazed through ten straight wins, my interested piqued. I had come to call Nashville home and the spirit of the city was one of excitement. My co-workers wore jerseys on Fridays. We were even permitted a casual Tuesday if we wore blue. Any blue would do. Whether they won or lost mattered to me and this was troubling. Why did it matter? Why did anyone care at all? The idea that a team winning a game could unite a city seemed most ludicrous. And yet, it seemed to be exactly what was happening. I talked to my Dad about the Titans winning streak. He reminded me that he only cared about one thing: Alabama Football. And Mom, God bless her, gave me an earful about how Tennessee wasn’t really my home.

Amid the excitement, I hadn’t noticed that Alabama was having a winning streak of their own. That elusive perfect season had arrived. Unfortunately, it ended as Florida took away the SEC championship. This afternoon the two rivals meet again. I want the Tide to win for a very simple reason. I’ve seen glimpses of a once-great empire, an empire that my Dad and I share belief in, and I want that empire to reign supreme. Ridiculous, yes but isn’t that why we pull for our team? The rule of “kingdoms passing away” applies to football but we pull for teams not because they are necessarily the best but because they represent something of our ideology. I stopped caring about football when I stopped understanding it and when it seemed pointless. There are parallels between my early inherited fandom and an inherited faith. At some point, both have to become personal or else they die. There is an empire not of this world, unseen of this world, which one ought to have faith in. Faith being the substance of things unseen can be a lot like loving a perennially losing team.

5 Practical Ways for Keeping the Faith:

Learn everything you can so that you can adequately answer why you believe. This is important when others ask but also for when you question it yourself.

Understand that the institution is merely an instrument of the empire. That is, don’t expect perfection from the church. It is made of broken players just like yourself.

Remember, everyone can’t be QB. Teams need people in bleachers too.

Consider the unwaning enthusiasm of the die-hard fan. Be as excited about your church team in season and out. Your enthusiasm will serve to inspire others.

Remember where your home is. Winning seasons, like spiritual high points, come and go but even the best of times are merely a glimpse of future glories. Remember your home and do everything to see the dream realized.

I’ll leave you with the words of the immortal Mac Powell of Third Day who last night said, “Hope I get to meet Tim Tebow tomorrow and tell him “Roll Tide, God bless you.’”

Every week, Richard Clark and Ben Bartlett acknowledge and respond to the big issues in popular culture. We love feedback! If you’d like to respond you can comment on the website, send an email to christandpopculture@gmail.com, or go to our contact page. We would love to respond to feedback on the show, so do it now! Subscribe to us in iTunes by clicking here. While you’re at it, review us in iTunes! We’ll love you forever!

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Also, on the heels of a landmark Friday Night Lights episode in which the issue of abortion is dealt with head-on, we discuss popular culture’s treatment of the subject, as well as what sort of treatment Christians ought to appreciate most. Is there such thing as pro-life art? What does it look like? Is it a good idea?

Every week, Richard Clark and Ben Bartlett acknowledge and respond to the big issues in popular culture. We love feedback! If you’d like to respond you can comment on the website, send an email to christandpopculture@gmail.com, or go to our contact page. We would love to respond to feedback on the show, so do it now! Subscribe to us in iTunes by clicking here. While you’re at it, review us in iTunes! We’ll love you forever!

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For those of us who believe the latter, this state of affairs seems on the face of it to be alright with us. As long as popular culture refuses to take the practice seriously as an option, they are prevented from making any flippant or trivial arguments in its’ favor. The truth of the matter, though, is that abortion doesn’t need arguments in its’ favor. For those who find themselves or their significant other pregnant against their will, the option of abortion when separated from its’ inherent cultural and moral stigma  is virtually magical. Like sex itself, abortion doesn’t need popular culture’s support because in an age where reversing a pregnancy is possible, it seems like the only logical choice.

This is why it’s such a brave and crucial thing for Friday Night Lights to commit to addressing the subject without a blatant agenda and without leaving out any crucial steps along the way. When Becky finds herself pregnant with a football player’s baby, she finds herself at a loss as to any other way to handle the situation. Her boyfriend, while good-natured and caring, is relatively passive when it comes to the decision. They both know not to challenge what their culture tells them: that this decision is purely the woman’s decision, and no man – even the father – has the right to any input.

Implicit in the episode is the unsettling truth that Becky’s mom is anxious for her to go through with the abortion out of experience: if Becky had never been born, it would have been better for her mom. This only serves to complicate the already complex decision Becky is trying to make. Interestingly, it’s her mom’s “pro-choice” values that seem to be pushed on her during this critical time of decision making. When a doctor appears to merely be sharing some important information about what abortion is, and Becky seems to be interested, her mother sees it as most pro-choice advocates would: a pointless result of a brutally political law. As her mom rails against the doctor, all Becky knows is that her mom must really want her to go through with this abortion.

The most heartbreaking moment of the episode is when Becky goes to visit Coach Taylor’s wife for some advice. She visits them not because she knows them and trusts them, but because she has no where else to go. It’s clear Becky would like to go through with the pregnancy. She speculates on how she would defy all odds and make the baby feel loved and cared for – exactly the things she is not. But she simply doesn’t see a way to make it happen. She tells Tami Taylor what she believes to be the inevitable truth, through tears: “I can’t take care of a baby.”

Obviously, if abortion is what we say it is, this is hardly a good excuse for going through with it. On the other hand, it does draw attention to one of the key reasons many scared teenagers do seek out an abortion: they feel totally and utterly alone. Becky has been failed by her family, her community, and her friends. Of all the people who are faced with this predicament, none of them says to her, “If you do want to have this baby, we will help you.”

…until it’s too late. When her boyfriend calls and says that he is willing to make it work, that he’ll do anything within his power to make it work, and makes an actual appealing case for raising a child, all she’s able to say is that she “took care of it.” If this were a lesser show, the emotions on display would be relief, but this is Friday Night Lights, and they know that regret is inevitable here. For a while, at least, those two teenagers will be dwelling on what could have been, and what’s been lost.

What this, the first realistic and honest look at the issue I’ve seen on television, demonstrates is that in a culture where abortion is far off from being inaccessible or illegal, it becomes even more inevitable in the face of what is for many teenagers an utter lack of community and companionship. In every town or city, there are countless girls who are starved for the love and affection that a boyfriend will give them, but who lack the guidance of a good parent. What our culture lacks in connectedness and shared community, Christians can make up for, simply by making ourselves available.

Americans tend to have a notorious international reputation of being extremely self-absorbed, ethnocentric and globally ignorant. We have a tendency to love only what’s American, and to belittle other cultures, practices, and, yes, even sports. This of course makes little sense for Americans, considering our history is one of ethnic and cultural diversity. It also makes very little sense for Christians who believe, as the Bible teaches, that God is the creator and lover of all peoples and nations, and that he has in fact redeemed a people for himself from among every tribe, and tongue. Yet this perception, and sadly all too often reality, remains with Americans. We are cultural elitists! But soccer has the potential to change some of that.

Any soccer lover, even a novice, will tell you that when it comes to the sport’s best Americans don’t stack up. The best players usually come from Europe and South America. Theirs are the stars and heroes of the game. To teams like Brazil and Germany, France and Italy, belong the championships. To truly invest in the game and to adopt a genuine love for it you must follow the international teams. You must watch England’s Premier League, and Germany’s Bunda Slinga. As you do you will see players from all over the world, you will learn about new cultures, and locate cities and countries that you never even knew about. This is all good for us (especially when we consider that the average American can’t even identify the European continent on a map!). What the World Cup offers to us is a chance to open up our minds, to embrace people everywhere and to share in a common, global, love affair that transcends races, cultures, continents, and labels. This game, in many ways, helps us to become better people…possibly even better Christians.

I say all this with a bit of tongue-in-cheek, but I can’t help but wonder if it isn’t, on some level, true. So, Americans, watch the World Cup and let soccer help you become a better person…and to start maybe we should stop calling it soccer and join the rest of the world in calling it by its real name: football!