My Life as a Coach

If coaches were picked based on performance on the field of life, I would be the last candidate considered.  My track record is pathetic.  On the offensive line, many times my opponents spotted my weaknesses and exploited them.  As a running back, I fumbled more times than I have fingers and toes.  Defense wasn't much better.  Other teams love playing against me because they know they can run up the score.  My limited time in the quarterback position isn't anything to brag about; I have thrown more interceptions on the field of life than Ryan Leaf, a highly touted college athlete who was the San Diego Chargers first round draft pick.  Oh, the memories of that season.  The question I keep asking myself is: why in the world would God pick me to be a coach for His team?  Surely, there are much better candidates.

God already knows what's in the opponent's play book, so I'm practically cheating when He sends in the plays.  When the other side prepares to play against us, they don't expect much resistance.  God's team is filled with rejects.  There are prostitutes, drug addicts, adulterers, thieves, murderers, drunks, and some people who think they are too good to play on a team filled with such unworthy players.

When I study history, I have trouble understanding why the original team rejected the Perfect Player capable of completing the Hail Mary.  This Player gave His life for the team and He got Crucified.  The expansion draft didn't go very well.  The first coaches didn't like the rule changes or the game being opened up to everyone and their brother.

I'm not an insider.  On my dad's side of the family, my ancestors preferred watching the game from a local pub.  On my mom's side, the only ball sport they played was soccer.  That's why I believe God has a sense of humor.  Every morning when I wake up, I have absolutely no idea what I'm going to write about.  Then, the play call comes to me from above.  I laugh a little.  Then I type.  The field of life is in cyberspace.  Every morning at 8:08 AM, Pacific Time, the world can see the play calls.  I'm in the third quarter now.  The scoreboard looks lopsided.  The Owner of the team tells me to be patient.  He's planning on sending me a Retired player who will be a game changer.  The Hail Mary was named after His Mother.  Until that time, I will keep looking for more players to join the team.  No qualifications are needed.  Just believe God's team will prevail.