The summer of 1967 was a pivotal one in my life for many reasons, not the least of which was that it was the summer I got serious about getting ready for my senior year of high school football. Dave Upson and I were going to be the starting tackles on the team, but we both had busy summer schedules, so we could not work out at the appointed school times. Fortunately, Dave had a good set of weights at his house and lived nearby. This allowed us to work out our routine, with me going to Dave’s four days a week, where we lifted weights and did some running. Going to Dave’s house had the added benefit of being very close to Debbie Quake’s house, whom I was dating at the beginning of the summer. Unfortunately, it was not long before Debbie realized that she could do better than me, but that is another story.
Dave and I turned out to be very good workout partners and when August came, we were both in very good shape for the two-a-day practices that marked the beginning of football season. I never did well in the longer runs (1/2 mile or more) but was above average in the agility drills (running through tires, ropes, crossovers, etc.) and I did very well when it came time to run the stadium. For some unknown reason, I almost enjoyed running up those stadium seats and back down.
I did not work out nearly as much in the summer of 1968 and it showed that fall when I walked on to play freshman football (freshmen could not play varsity back then) at Western Michigan University. I was not in as good a shape as most of the fellows they had recruited. I was very discouraged and mad at myself for everything I had not done to get ready, but then one day we ran the steps at Waldo Stadium, and I surprised myself and how well I did. Something kicked in and I was able to go right up those bleachers.
Running those stadiums have been very much in my mind the past weeks. It is August, it is hot, football season has begun, and my mind still pictures myself running the stadium. Even when I am fully awake and aware of the real world around me, my mind and my body carry a vivid image of me running the stadium bleachers, up and down. I can feel it in my bones; arms driving back and forth, legs pounding, feet pushing off each step driving me ever onward and upward. ………but then I come to the stairs to take myself off to bed and I must concentrate, as I walk slowly, carefully, awkwardly, up the one flight of stairs I have climbed ever since I could walk.
The majority of my body and my mind still picture me running up the steps, but my foot and legs are painfully slow trying to navigate my way up even the three steps into the house. Laurie, the Physical Therapist working with me, keeps telling me that I am making progress and that if I keep working at it, I will get better. Right now, I can’t even stand at the end of my dock and fish. It is frustrating!
I am 71 years old now and I have been preaching the transformative power of God’s love and inclusiveness for 44 years. I firmly believe that the only way to bring peace and abundance into the world, as Jesus promised, is by spreading this love and inclusiveness boldly, wherever we go. As I look around the world and listen and read the news, it seems that hate, violence, and exclusion are ruling the day. Politicians and leaders win elections by belittling their opponents and bragging about how they are the only answer. Hate and fear of the outsider energizes way too many followers. People even shout threats at their neighbors on school boards for trying to protect the vulnerable and putting in place mask requirements.
Forty-four years ago, I thought I could help God’s Kingdom come on Earth, I could help people run up that stairway to heaven. Now I am frustrated and weary, it seems impossible for people to find ways to live together in peace, let alone with grace. There are whole days that I feel that I will never be able to do what seemed so easily in reach those years ago. Perhaps that is why Jesus’ ministry only lasted three years at the most.
But then I see an Afghanistan parent lift their child up to the waiting hands of an American soldier in full fighting gear. And that mighty warrior puts the gun away, and reaches further down and lifts the infant up and sees to it that the little one, who most likely will never see their country and home again, nor even their family, is lovingly carried off to a hoped-for better life. “and God will raise you up on eagles wings and lift you on the breath of dawn”
Most of us can no longer run up stairs, let alone stadiums. We can’t change the whole world. But we can make our little part of it brighter, a little more filled with light, grace, love. In the words of Paul, “as much as it depends on you, live at peace with your neighbor.” I no longer expect my sermons to affect a tidal wave that will sweep God’s love and inclusiveness all across the land. But I keep working at it. I hope that as I let the cashier at Meijer know they are appreciated, or sincerely thank that gal that opens the door for me, their life will be a little lighter and God’s love and inclusiveness will be known. I pray that the time at the boys’ T-ball game, when I told the player on the other team he made a great play, a bit of the Kingdom was present even for an instant.
The level of anger, hate, violence, distrust, greed, selfishness, exclusivity, in our world today can be overwhelming. I also know that Laurie is right…if we keep doing the little things we can do, with God’s help, we can make things better. Live as though you are a blessed child of God, wonderfully made and so is that next person you meet. May God’s Kingdom come on Earth as it is in Heaven.
Rev. John W. Fisher
