Just an absolutely beautiful real-life example of how the father of the prodigal son runs to us when we are at our lowest moments. A very moving video.

Today is Big Word day on TBC, and our word is consternation.  It means “feelings of dismay, typically at something unexpected.”  Something like, I don’t know, LeBron James coming up short on his personal quest to win a championship by playing on a team stacked so deep with talent that experts said there was almost no way they couldn’t win.  But they didn’t.  It was unexpected, too, the way they lost 3 straight games with LeBron playing the Invisible Man at the end of each of them.

Here, then, are my thoughts as I experience “LeBronsternation…”

There is something so innate within us that it is rarely ever recognized.  It slips into our speech so easily that it is imperceptible, and even when it is blatant, we stop short of calling it what it is because we don’t really see the danger in it.  Perhaps if it was a four-letter word, we’d be more apt to shine the light of truth on it, but since it has more than four, we don’t.  It is powerful enough to bring kingdoms to their knees and, yet, it never happens overnight.  Like a vine, it grows slowly, quietly, until it is finally in place to pull the noose around the neck of the unsuspecting.  It was at the center of the greatest failed coup in the history of the world, and it will be at the center of future coups for generations to come.  Relentless, calculating, and cold, it works behind the scenes whispering self-help mantras to anyone who will listen.  It’s pride.

Pride filled the imagination of a beautiful angel who wanted to take his talents to the throne of God, and led to the destruction of that devil and those angels who sided with him.  The consequences of that prideful action have been far-reaching, and today you and I are left navigating this life like men in a river watching for the sudden strike of a constrictor.  Pride searches for us and tells us stories of what could be if people would only see how great we know we are, and if we’re not careful, it will get us in its grip and squeeze the life from us.

I thought a lot about this last night as I watched the Dallas Mavericks defeat the Miami Heat for the NBA championship.  I recalled The Decision, a prime-time special paid for by LeBron James in order to announce where he would be playing basketball this season.  I replayed the words that have been burned into the hearts of every Cleveland Cavalier fan forever: “I’m taking my talents to South Beach.”

This is what the LORD says: “Let not the wise boast of their wisdom or the strong boast of their strength or the rich boast of their riches, but let the one who boasts boast about this: that they have the understanding to know me, that I am the LORD, who exercises kindness, justice and righteousness on earth, for in these I delight,” declares the LORD. (Jeremiah 9:23-24)

Pride.  It causes us to boast in what we feel are our strengths.  The wise about their wisdom, the strong about their strength, the rich about their wealth.  LeBron about his mad ball skills.  It makes us feel like we’re the piece that’s been missing.  “If only I was the boss…the teacher…the President.”  We see it as ambition, and applaud people for having upward mobility and career goals.  We wish we had the nerve to say what they say and do what they do, and yet somewhere deep inside all of us, we know that we can’t quite picture Jesus saying and doing the same things we’re hearing from and seeing in them.

Am I the only one having a hard time picturing Jesus’ response to our need for a Savior being, “I’m taking my talents to Bethlehem?”

The longer I serve Jesus, the more I see in Him a Savior who boasted in His relationship with the Father.  He didn’t talk about how once He was resurrected He was going to win, not 1, not 2, not 3, not even 4, or 5 or 6 billion people to Him.  He just kept on loving God and loving the people around Him.  I want to boast in knowing that Savior, and in understanding that it isn’t about me and what I can do for people, but rather what He has done for people.

Pride blinds us to what could happen.  It causes us to believe that the best perceived end is the guaranteed end.  When James joined the Heat, he and Chris Bosh and Dwayne Wade had a big party, err, press conference, and announced with index fingers raised how they were going to be a dynasty.  Pride makes us count our chickens before they hatch, because pride convinces us that it’s not possible for us to do anything but have chickens, and not just any chickens, but the best chickens ever.

It’s sickening, really, especially in light of a Savior who came to seek, to serve, and to save.  His eyes looked outward.  Always. A total failure at self-promotion, He instead chose the route of self-demotion and as a result was made more upwardly mobile than anyone ever has or will be (you can read about His career path in Philippians 2:5-11).  He walked on the side of justice and kindness, and those of us who love Him might want to consider walking there with Him.

Walk that path with Jesus very long and you’ll begin to see there isn’t room on the road for pride, because there isn’t room in the presence of Jesus for our selfishness and ambition.  Sometimes I watch the premature celebrations in sports, or the over-hyped promotions in church programs, and think that pride must stand for Predicting Ridiculous Individual Deeds Enthusiastically.  Too harsh?  Maybe.  One thing is sure, though.  Not only does pride lead to a fall, but it almost always ensures that there’s no one there to catch us when the inevitable happens. It’s not that they don’t care.  They’re just too busy celebrating the victory of the guys who weren’t jerks.

Sometimes when I read about current events, I get mad.  Sometimes, I get disgusted.  Today, as I read a pretty revealing article from Sports Illustrated about the events that led up to the resignation of Ohio State football coach, Jim Tressel, I got embarrassed.  First, let me try to catch some of you up on what event I’m referencing, and then I’ll tell you why I could feel my face getting red as a result of it.

In order to fully understand what has happened to the head coach at one of the country’s premiere universities, you’ve got to accept that there are certain rules which the NCAA requires of programs, players, coaches and universities.  Some, to you and me, can seem pretty silly, and perhaps should even be changed, but that’s for other people to debate.  One of those rules forbids college athletes from receiving any type of pay.  Should they?  Maybe.  But again, that’s not the point here.  The point here is that a coach who “has been lauded for his sincerity and his politeness, and [who] often mention[ed] the prayer-request box on the desk in his office at Ohio State” has now been effectively released for failing to tell the truth.

Is there more to it than that?  Well, there are more details and infractions, and apparently a pretty long history of “say one thing but do another” by Tressel, but all of it comes back to almost having integrity.  It’s not that anyone is questioning whether or not Jim Tressel was sincere, or that people are pointing their fingers and calling him a hypocrite.  More accurately, it appears that people are now scratching their heads and wondering how a man who regularly spent 10 minutes before each meeting and practice reading to his players about humility, faith, and gratitude, could have then so blatantly violated those same virtues when it mattered the most?

The high price we pay as a result of an unchecked lack of integrity in our lives is a steep one, and often leaves us with payment plans stretching out for years to come.  Consider this: in the mid-80s, when Tressel was running the summer camp for Ohio State, he was in charge of selling raffle tickets to campers, some of which were prospective OSU players.  According to one of the coaches who worked with Tressel, he would rig the drawings so that the potential players would win.

Now, the world didn’t end as a result of that, but it was a violation of NCAA rules.  And the price he paid for that?  Being a man who could be described by Tony Dungy as a picture of integrity while at the same time being described by the assistant at that camp with the following statement:

In the morning he would read the Bible with another coach. Then, in the afternoon, he would go out and cheat kids who had probably saved up money from mowing lawns to buy those raffle tickets. That’s Jim Tressel.

Ouch.

Assuming Tressel is a man of faith and that integrity matters to him, I’d have to believe that having his name kicked around like that would probably be harder than losing your job and the likelihood of any coaching jobs in the future.

So, why would any of that embarrass me?  I didn’t do anything wrong.  Heck, I’m not even a fan of Ohio State.

It embarrasses me as a believer.  I’m not embarrassed by the fact that Jim Tressel got caught up in the overwhelming consequences of what would appear to be a small crack in judgement (although given the decade-long track record of consistent poor judgement in the same areas, one could argue whether it’s a small crack). There’s forgiveness for those kinds of transgressions.  But I’m embarrassed to see the world recognize the importance of integrity more than the church.

Look, let’s just say it like it is.  It’s just really tough for me to swallow the fact that a bunch of people who may or may not even know Christ have held up a standard for integrity more than we have in the church.  The leaders of Ohio State University finally said enough, and even though I doubt their motives were 100% pure, they made a tough call about a good man who made some really poor choices, and they aren’t apologizing for taking a stand that says lying is wrong, and a man who could so easily do it shouldn’t be in charge of younger men who are learning from him.

I know I’m taking a risk here, and that I might sound harsh, but when do we say enough to inconsistencies in the church?  When do we decide that what we can’t see is quite possibly more important than what we can see, and start holding ourselves accountable to truth in every area of our lives?  Is it enough to be mostly good, even 99% good?  How do we reconcile the other 1% with verses like Romans 12:2?

Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.

One of the keys is found in the very next verse: think of yourself with sober judgement.  There comes a time when good men realize that they aren’t good enough, and never can be.  That left to themselves, apart from the grace of Jesus Christ, they will take seemingly small steps over the line between right and wrong and will find themselves in a whirlwind of consequences threatening to sweep them away.

If we’re honest, we don’t consider a man’s heart as long as the show is good. Consider the following statement from Ohio State booster Geoffrey Webster and ask yourself if it sheds light on the tendency in American Christianity to believe that all we really need is a good band and a great communicator in order to feel good about our church:

“As fans we always write off what goes on behind the scenes,” says Webster. “We say it is no big deal because we so enjoy watching these fellas play. But maybe we need to pay more attention to what is going on behind the curtain.”

The people who will make an eternal impact in this culture will not be the ones who play the best on gameday. They will not be the ones who wear WWJD bands religiously (like Tressel did) but never actually consider the message behind the 4 letters.  They will be the ones who think of themselves with sober judgement, and because they understand their desperate need of truth in every area of their lives, will see every step they take as one that can’t be made without Jesus.

When we live with integrity like that, we will find that we don’t need to run and hide when God – or anyone else – decides to take a peek behind the curtain.