Went to a high school football game the other night and I’d forgotten just how much I love high school football. Lots of changes: the unevenly lit field to high tech lighting, the stale popcorn to pizza and nachos, and the occasionally synchronized marching band to precision performers. There were still the cute cheerleaders and their corny cheers, the hyper-active coaches, and the 70 or 80 pimply faced adolescent “wanna-bes” ready to enter the arena as gridiron gladiators. The sights, the sounds, and the smells transported me back to 1965 and the opening football game of my senior year. Yeh, yeh, I’m that old and, yeh, there really was football that long ago.
We entered the season as one of the favorites to win our conference and were ranked in the state’s top ten. I was part of a quarterback tandem that would alternate throughout the game. During our first series my efforts were anything but memorable. Among my exploits were getting sacked because I ran to the wrong side where there were no blockers, throwing the ball 10 yards beyond a well covered receiver when I had two other guys wide open, and then the capper. We called a play-action pass to our tight end and it nearly worked to perfection. Notice I said nearly. I faked the ball to our running back and hid the ball on my hip and rolled out away from the play. I was so amazed that my end had no one within 10 yards of him that I got excited and threw the ball 10 yards behind him right to an opposing linebacker. In shock I froze in my cleats and just watched him run down the field.
I approached our bench with my head down but I could still hear jeers and boos from the crowd and even some comments from some teammates and coaches, “Man, did you blow it!”, “Coach’s gonna bench him for sure”, “What were you thinking Medcalfe?” But to everyone’s surprise the head coach walked up to me, patted me on my helmet and then firmly said, “Get your head up and get ready to get back into the game. You’ll be alright”. And that’s exactly what I was, alright. Why, because the coach had not given up on me. His words sparked a courage and confidence to go back into the game despite my mistakes and the angry crowd.
Many years later, while reading Psalm 3, it occurred to me that this Psalm’s author, David, faced a similar situation but on a much larger scale. His opposition didn’t want him out of the game, so to speak, they wanted him dead! Because of some major wrong choices and increasing enemies David knew that people were saying that “God would not deliver him”. In verses 3-6 David turns his attention away from his foes and onto God. He desperately needed protection, a purpose to go onward, and a push. David describes what God would provide when he cried out to Him. “You are “my shield” of protection; You are “my glory”, my reason to live; You are the one who “lifts up my head” so I can see clearly what I must do.” What a statement of support from our heavenly coach!
When we get down and depressed our heads and our hearts droop and we do become disheartened. But, if we would humbly cry out to God, He will lift our heads up, fill us again with renewed courage and confidence, declare that we are alright and put us back into the game!
