Not in the Losers’ Bracket!?!
Written by Larry Clooney
In Hide and Seek, remaining hidden is fine until we've won; then, it's time to come out and enjoy our freedom.
"Ollie, ollie, oxen free," someone would shout when the seeker found one of the other hiders; the rest of us emerged gloating.
There are other reasons to hide. Someone abused hides from their abuser. The safety is necessary, but will it last, and what justice makes the innocent hide while the monster remains free?
Many of us hide to protect ourselves from being hurt again, embarrassed or found out to be inadequate, gross, and unloved. Freedom is completely foreign territory, so hiding works even if it's a miserable concession.
Before becoming a Christian, I would hide things I'd be ashamed to have others find. I'd be lying if I told you I still don't hide things, not as dark or shameful, but hidden anyway.
We hide presents with anticipation and joy. We can't wait for the recipient to open it.
And God knows about hiding. Christ hides his followers from the cruel judgment of a world that insists we fall in line, produce, impress, and stay out of the losers' bracket.
Can we enjoy Christ as our hiding place and still make a case that we belong with the winners?
And what if we follow Christ and objectively end up in the losers' bracket? What then? Is Christ then just for the losers? Do we hide in Christ, but only apprehensively; undoubtedly, when he finds me, he'll be a furious Gunnery Sergeant Carter and I a comboobish Gomer Pyle, left only with "Golly, Shazam" to tell him.
I enjoy being hidden in Christ so long as I don't have to meet anyone important enough to judge me. Then, I want to break out of hiding, pull back the curtain, and show them what a star I am.
As I consider my life, sixty percent of which has been in Christ, I see that, in my present trajectory, I won't meet the expectations I had when, forty years ago, I was Sandy's knight in a shining B210, a want-to-be preacher, and the winner of my school's most likely to succeed award. Life happened, unresolved pain accumulated, and I projected well enough to make it most of the way.
Now, closer to the finish line, still with a bit of fuel in the tank, I'm tempted to come out of this ridiculous hiding and make a final run for it. "Now I'm ready to go up; I've sinned, so let me fix it! I'm somebody, dammit (the other ten in Numbers 15)!"
Reality sinks in, albeit slowly. I am, in fact, somebody, but hidden. And God was with me at every step of my sixty-six years, in every failure, sin, and dark moment of fear, shame, and humiliation. He's aware of my medical, financial, and employment records; screentime, wasted time, and prayer time. God knows my every thought, intent, tear, and grimace. He loves it when I keep believing and praying, even when I don't know my motives, and all of it feels like so many rote motions.
One afternoon, he took my place to suffer an incomprehensible death. My curse, punishment, and guilt went away. Because he could, he exchanged my hopeless balance sheet for his endless vault of worth. He became poor so that I could be rich. My sinner-saint self wants to make one more wild dash, one more run for the dead flowers, and one more try to be someone important. But the saint part of it reminds me that what he did made a permanent change for good in my status. I am not what I once regarded myself to be. He is in front, and God moved me behind him.
But what about the evidence that things might not work out - in all things, He works for good, right!? Yeah, what of that? Not so fast, God, don't trick me.
Eternity is the win, not these prizes. God has been close to me on this roller coaster called life for his eternal purposes, not for likes on Facebook, a better client count, or even sustained peace of mind. I have eternity, so what if my body aches, my legs fail, and I don't get the big assignment?
I can relate with Asaph, who recognized he nearly lost his faith (Psalm 73:2), felt he wasted his life serving God (v.13), and hid behind a mask, lest he hurt others or lose his position (v.15), only to realize he was a bitter, brute beast (vv. 21, 22). In his mercy, God intervened and changed Asaph's mind, but the terror inside him was a fire until he did. In the end, he was satisfied with the only thing that could satisfy his soul, the one thing God promised us, to be near him (v.28).
“Take this mountain weight
Take these ocean tears
Hold me through the trial
Come like hope again
Even when the fight seems lost
I'll praise You
Even when it hurts like hell
I'll praise You
Even when it makes no sense to sing
Louder then I'll sing Your praise, oh-ooh
I will only sing Your praise, oh-ooh.”
— Even When It Hurts (Praise Song), written by Joel Houston, Hillsong United
"Ollie, ollie, oxen free," someone would shout when the seeker found one of the other hiders; the rest of us emerged gloating.
There are other reasons to hide. Someone abused hides from their abuser. The safety is necessary, but will it last, and what justice makes the innocent hide while the monster remains free?
Many of us hide to protect ourselves from being hurt again, embarrassed or found out to be inadequate, gross, and unloved. Freedom is completely foreign territory, so hiding works even if it's a miserable concession.
Before becoming a Christian, I would hide things I'd be ashamed to have others find. I'd be lying if I told you I still don't hide things, not as dark or shameful, but hidden anyway.
We hide presents with anticipation and joy. We can't wait for the recipient to open it.
And God knows about hiding. Christ hides his followers from the cruel judgment of a world that insists we fall in line, produce, impress, and stay out of the losers' bracket.
Can we enjoy Christ as our hiding place and still make a case that we belong with the winners?
And what if we follow Christ and objectively end up in the losers' bracket? What then? Is Christ then just for the losers? Do we hide in Christ, but only apprehensively; undoubtedly, when he finds me, he'll be a furious Gunnery Sergeant Carter and I a comboobish Gomer Pyle, left only with "Golly, Shazam" to tell him.
I enjoy being hidden in Christ so long as I don't have to meet anyone important enough to judge me. Then, I want to break out of hiding, pull back the curtain, and show them what a star I am.
As I consider my life, sixty percent of which has been in Christ, I see that, in my present trajectory, I won't meet the expectations I had when, forty years ago, I was Sandy's knight in a shining B210, a want-to-be preacher, and the winner of my school's most likely to succeed award. Life happened, unresolved pain accumulated, and I projected well enough to make it most of the way.
Now, closer to the finish line, still with a bit of fuel in the tank, I'm tempted to come out of this ridiculous hiding and make a final run for it. "Now I'm ready to go up; I've sinned, so let me fix it! I'm somebody, dammit (the other ten in Numbers 15)!"
Reality sinks in, albeit slowly. I am, in fact, somebody, but hidden. And God was with me at every step of my sixty-six years, in every failure, sin, and dark moment of fear, shame, and humiliation. He's aware of my medical, financial, and employment records; screentime, wasted time, and prayer time. God knows my every thought, intent, tear, and grimace. He loves it when I keep believing and praying, even when I don't know my motives, and all of it feels like so many rote motions.
One afternoon, he took my place to suffer an incomprehensible death. My curse, punishment, and guilt went away. Because he could, he exchanged my hopeless balance sheet for his endless vault of worth. He became poor so that I could be rich. My sinner-saint self wants to make one more wild dash, one more run for the dead flowers, and one more try to be someone important. But the saint part of it reminds me that what he did made a permanent change for good in my status. I am not what I once regarded myself to be. He is in front, and God moved me behind him.
But what about the evidence that things might not work out - in all things, He works for good, right!? Yeah, what of that? Not so fast, God, don't trick me.
Eternity is the win, not these prizes. God has been close to me on this roller coaster called life for his eternal purposes, not for likes on Facebook, a better client count, or even sustained peace of mind. I have eternity, so what if my body aches, my legs fail, and I don't get the big assignment?
I can relate with Asaph, who recognized he nearly lost his faith (Psalm 73:2), felt he wasted his life serving God (v.13), and hid behind a mask, lest he hurt others or lose his position (v.15), only to realize he was a bitter, brute beast (vv. 21, 22). In his mercy, God intervened and changed Asaph's mind, but the terror inside him was a fire until he did. In the end, he was satisfied with the only thing that could satisfy his soul, the one thing God promised us, to be near him (v.28).
“Take this mountain weight
Take these ocean tears
Hold me through the trial
Come like hope again
Even when the fight seems lost
I'll praise You
Even when it hurts like hell
I'll praise You
Even when it makes no sense to sing
Louder then I'll sing Your praise, oh-ooh
I will only sing Your praise, oh-ooh.”
— Even When It Hurts (Praise Song), written by Joel Houston, Hillsong United
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