When I was a child, I was obsessed with basketball.  I loved the sport more than life itself.  And I was a good little player, this cannot be denied.  My specialty was outside shooting.  In fact, as I grew and developed, I became known in high school for my ability to shoot behind the 3-point arc.  I also loved watching the game of basketball, which means that when the month of March rolled around, my eyes were usually glued to the television set taking in as much of March Madness as was humanly possible.  My favorite team was in the Atlantic Coast Conference.  For the purpose of this devotional, I will not reveal the identity of this team for fear of creating a stumbling block to my readers 🙂  Let’s just say they were known for their winning tradition, and I cheered for them constantly.  My loyalty to this team has not changed since becoming an adult.  I continue to cheer for them to this day.

My love for basketball was passed down to me by my father, and to him by his father, my grandfather.  I was privileged to have my grandfather as my basketball coach for three years of high school.  Not many can boast of something like this.  I thoroughly enjoyed playing for him and believe he was one of the reasons I was so confident as a player.  Basketball was in our blood and instead of fighting it, we succumbed.  We allowed it to consume us, and I must confess that we still thoroughly enjoy it years after my days as a player.

I remember one Saturday in March as a young pastor, I was called on to conduct a funeral of a member of the church where I served.  Since my birthday is in March, my parents and grandparents had come to visit me one Saturday afternoon to celebrate.  This Saturday also happened to be the same day when our favorite team was playing a huge game in their conference tournament.  Because of the funeral, I would have to miss the contest.  I was sure to record it, though, so that I could watch it when I returned.  In the meantime, my father and grandfather viewed the game at my home live.

When I returned from the funeral, I made it clear to the two of them that I did not want to know the outcome of the game.  I wanted to watch the recording as if I was watching it in live time.  My father and grandfather agreed, and they watched with me, possessing amazing poker faces through the so many twists, turns, and lead changes of the game.  “Keep watching,” they simply said.  And I did, with a hopeful anticipation of my team’s victory.  “Surely they would not tell me to keep watching if my team does not win,” I thought to myself.  “Even though the game is close, and our team’s opponent is extremely impressive, they would not bother to make me watch if our team does not ultimately emerge victorious.”  I was aware of their knowledge of the outcome.  They knew what I did not.  As I continued to watch, there were times when I was tempted to doubt, but this is what kept me committed.  This is what kept me in the living room day.  And thankfully, I was right.  In the end, our team edged out an exciting victory after an extremely hard-fought contest. 

I can’t help but think of that day during times when I get concerned about the unknown details of the future God has in store for me.  The Bible makes it clear that he has a plan for my life.  It makes it clear that he is committed to leading me through that plan.  It tells me that he possesses ultimate knowledge and is aware of every detail of how that plan will play itself out, just like my father and grandfather in my living room that day.  I do not.  I am simply a player in his game.  Yet, unlike that day, I do know the outcome of this contest.  Victory.  I am on the winning team because I belong to Christ.  How long I play is up to him.  The position I play is up to him.  But the victory is secure.  The Bible guarantees us of this.  And because the victory is secure, I can trust God with the details of my role in this victory.  I can trust that all is going to be well with me and this world because of who oversees the game. 

Sometimes waiting for the details to play themselves out can be hard.  Sometimes not knowing the precise nature of what will take place in the next quarter of life can create a temptation on our part to worry or give way to fear.  But during such times, I am learning to allow the Master of the contest to supply me with his peace instead.  I am learning to stay in the game and keep playing hard in whatever role he has assigned to me.  I do this in anticipation of a victory celebration that is more exciting, amazing, and joyous than anything we could ever imagine, a victory celebration that will last forever.  I do this knowing that I am playing a role in that victory.  What does the assurance of this victory and its eternal celebration mean for your life today?  What does it mean for how you will approach your role in the game?