I love throwing components in a pot and serving over brown rice

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In our house, we had four people and four teams. Dad favored the 49ers. My young brother adored the Rams (to annoy dad?). My mom loved the Dolphins. I was colored with Pittsburgh Steelers black and gold.

Towels being waved terribly on some Sundays; Mom putting pinholes in the eyes of my football cards to cast a spell on Dolphins opponents on others. Living on the West Coast, games began early in the day. Instead of church … football.

I’m sure God wasn’t pleased. Nor was he surprised. He knew this would happen. He tells us about it in Paul’s letter to the Romans, first chapter (a rare NIV citing, though here’s the KJV of Romans 1:21-23), emphasis mine:

21 For although they knew God, they neither glorified him as God nor gave thanks to him, but their thinking became futile and their foolish hearts were darkened.
22 Although they claimed to be wise, they became fools
23 and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images made to look like a mortal human being and birds and animals and reptiles.

Who’s your team?  The Bears or Broncos (four-footed beasts), perhaps the Ravens or Seahawks (birds of the air). Maybe you fancy the Patriots or Vikings (corruptible man). Maybe you’re more fanatic about the college game: the Gators or the Terrapins (creeping things).

I still like football (and still the Steelers), but it’s a passing thought. I learned long ago I have no input on the outcome of the game on the field.

Don’t fumble the glory of the immortal God for other images and idols. Enjoy the game, but don’t be consumed by the sport.

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