If Heaven Ain't A lot Like Football. . .

written while traveling in 2010

Yesterday I sat by the pool and read three weeks worth of email. I’ve been in No Man’s Land for a while. The highlight of the day was watching a video (compliments of my lovely sister-in-law) of Yea Alabama and the Alabama Alma Mater at the end of the Florida game. I smiled and laughed as I could hear Stacie happily singing every word. And it finally rang true when she sang, “Remember the Rose Bowl, we’ll win then!” Ahh, it finally seems like things are as they should be. Is this heaven? No, this is Alabama football. So why do we love it so much? Why do I love it so much?

I think we get glimpses of heaven in the delicious and beautiful moments in this life. I think they are foretastes of what is to come. And I think those moments are different for everyone. In my case, I think heaven will sometimes be like being at an Alabama football game. I think it will encompass all of the goodness I have experienced there.

I once asked my mom this question, “If you could only take one memory with you into eternity, what would it be?” To my great surprise, she said, “Being at the 1992 National Championship Football Game” which Alabama won. Not the day she met or married my dad, not the birth of her children, but a college football game. I laughed. And then we remembered that we had to beg her to go. She thought the trip was going to be a waste of money, because Alabama was predicted to lose by a lot to Miami. But we won. Our family went with Susan’s family, and we had the time of our lives. My mom’s favorite, evidently! And I can relate, because I love going to Alabama football games. They are heavenly to me. I don’t know exactly why, but I have a few ideas, that I love, about why this is true.

Football games are exciting. At the biggest games of the year, you never know how it’s going to turn out. They are corporate and communal. Eighty thousand people are in one accord as we sing the national anthem together. There is tension, but it is a good kind of tension, because this is a game. No one is going to die or be irreparably damaged, but there will be action, engagement, effort, excellence, guts, and courage on display.

We park our car and happily eat our bucket of chicken and mom’s devil’s food cupcakes right alongside our neighbors. People are friendly. Everyone says Roll Tide. It’s like an endearing family greeting that we’ve heard all our lives. If I say Roll Tide, I’ll be answered with a smile, a shake of a pom pom, or usually a heartier ROLL TIDE! We are all part of the same tribe.

My guess is that Sunday in the South is still the most segregated day of the week. There are mostly black churches and white churches with relatively few that are mixed. People break up further into denominations, and the people who stay home are prayed for and “visited“ in hopes that they‘ll return to the fold. But on Saturdays in the fall, countless barriers fall away. We are all on the same team. Black and white, rich and poor, Christian and pagan. None of that matters. We only have disdain for the enemy - the opposing team and their fans. And though the enemy often serves as a socially acceptable target for venting our anger or releasing our stress, that never defines the day. It mostly garners empathy, because, for most of us, it is a kind of play. We don’t really hate the Florida Gators, we just hate them today, for three hours. It is part of the game. Luckily, the rude and obnoxious people are few and far between, so the happy majority can cover over it with love. If anyone goes too far, our policemen take them away. They are not allowed to disrupt our joy and our peace on this particular day.

Every fall, I get a little teary when I see the same family that has sat behind us for over ten years now. They always remember my face as I do theirs. We joke about the game and gravely share our concerns. The old lady behind me calls the penalties before the refs do. When my team makes a great play, I hug strangers and high five people I do not know. I celebrate with my closest neighbor and anyone who looks my way. Even in the bathroom, I am among friends. I patiently wait in line and talk to women I do not know. I usually see an old friend during the day and we hug or say hello. It all feels connecting and alive. Everyone seems to be alive and awake.

Like our family, most parents are spending eight hours with their kids on this day. We drive, wait in traffic, park, eat, drink, walk around, go to the game, eat and drink some more, sing, cheer, raise our hands, hug each other, talk, leave in a sea of people (celebrating or mourning together), and drive back to our homes. It is a day to be together and yet the family is not the point. For once, something bigger is. We are all there for the game. It is bigger than our family and bigger that what divides us. There is a battle that we are engaging in together. We are all in agreement about whom we want to win. There are referees and instant replay to ensure it is fair, so we experience a taste of justice on this day. This gives us relief and the freedom to fully enjoy the game. We may not like a call here or there, but we believe the system is just. If only for today, there is moral clarity. We know who we want to win and who we want to lose.

We want to win. And when we do it feels glorious. It’s a taste of what we might feel on judgment day when evil is banished forever never to win the day again. No more injustice, no more suffering, no more disappointment, loneliness, or pain. We are made for this. We are made to win in the end, to rule as kings and queens in the kingdom of God. We are #1. The fourth quarter is ours.  We rejoice and commiserate together. We hope together - sometimes against all odds. We are spectators, but we also participate. We cheer our guys onto victory. We make them feel loved. We celebrate them individually and as a team. Today we are gloriously happy when others succeed. We are involved, all of us, together on this day. All different kinds of people - singing our theme songs and sitting inches from each other or closer.

For one day, we even look the same. We wear our colors, and if you have on crimson or white you are beautiful to us. I don’t look good in crimson. It doesn’t go with my red hair, but if I don’t wear somethin’ bama I stick a shaker in my back pocket, so people will know I‘m in the family. I want to be included, and I always am. I’ve never felt lonely at a Bama game. Never. The game itself reminds me of a good experience at church except that I am freer here. It is loud and bodily, and I can fully express myself if I want to. Or not. I get to be me. And people are happy that I am here. There is no hierarchy. There are no gender roles. There’s no better than.

We are all fans. All of us. The freshmen girls in cocktail dresses. The body paint spellers. The couples in matching t-shirts. The row of people in wheelchairs. The D-fence sign people. The guys with the Rolls of toliet paper and Tide detergent boxes on a stick. I love them all on game day, even the girls who are prettier than me and the people who drink too much.  If even an inkling of what I'm saying is true, then I know I will love heaven. And so will you. So onto victory, Crimson Tide. You’re Dixie’s football pride, Crimson Tide. Roll Tide. Roll Tide!

We may ignore, but we can nowhere evade the presence of God.  The world is crowded with Him.  

He walks everywhere incognito.    - C.S. Lewis

If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.   - Mother Teresa