I was standing at the edge of the football field watching
the college athletes go through their final paces for the day’s practice. I like to pop by the various sporting venues
to watch the athletes in their practice sessions. I also like to go by the part of campus where
music is made and theater comes alive.
Again, I like to do it when they are rehearsing or practicing.
Why do this, you might ask?
It sometimes is rather boring to watch them go through various
drills. Often it is not game situation
or performing the act, as it will appear on stage when the lights are on. That is surely true. But we all know there are basic steps in the
process of preparing the final act or when the whistle blows and the game is
on. There are fundamentals in all
endeavors like this.
Secondly, I like to do it in these venues, because there is
no crowd. There are no parents cheering
on their athlete, musician or actor.
They are not getting applause or kudos from anyone except the coach or
director. And often, they are not
getting kudos, but rather constructive criticism. So why do I do it?
I do it to be supportive.
I know many of the athletes and other performers. Often I have had them in class or have simply
come to know them from watching their team or their group. An important part of support is care. I do it to show them I care---care about them
and care about what they are doing. It
is surprising how many people are going through life without any support and
with no clear sign that someone cares.
I do it because I am not their coach or their director. I am someone who does not have to be
there. Often they are surprised that I
am there. I doubt that they think much
about it the first time I visit. That
surely is true for the first-year college student. Usually they have no clue who I am or what I
am doing. I assume most think---if they
think at all---that I simply am curious.
So I know the first time makes almost no difference. A one-time visit is not yet support or care.
That is why I make multiple visits. If I keep coming back, they can begin to
sense that I am interested and that I am supporting them. Some of the upper class men and women know me
and often will greet me. But I am not
there to interact with them. They are
doing their job---preparing for a game, concert or play. I am certainly not their teacher. In most cases I say nothing. I never do anything that would lead the coach
or director to ask me to leave. They are
doing their jobs; I am merely a supportive spectator.
I am confident that support over time leads to their
understanding that I care. To care is
not necessarily doing anything for them.
The most I am giving them is my interest and my attention. For a while I am saying to them that they
matter. They are “seen.” The support is unconditional. I am not expecting anything from them. They don’t have to recognize me, thank me or
anything else.
It makes me ponder how often I get unconditional support? Parents routinely do it for their kids---especially
when the child is young. When the
newborn comes into the home, unconditional support is expected. Anything less is abuse. As the child grows older, the nature of
unconditional support changes shape.
Teenagers merit a very different kind of support than infants. And perhaps many of us do not think
supporting teenagers merits unconditional support. More often, the support is conditional: “if
you do this, I will do that.”
By the time we are adults, it is not a given that we will be
supported. And we are not sure that
anyone really will care. In fact I
suspect many of us live without any real hope that we will be supported or
cared for. It is easy to assume we are
adults, life is not always easy and we simply need to get on with it. As the old joke goes, “if you need help, dial
911.”
A recent event helped me see the fruit of this effort. As I was standing on the sideline after
practice, a player walked up to me, called me by name and said I was the reason
he was still in school. I don’t take
this to be literally true. I am sure
there are many reasons and many people who have helped him stay where he can
succeed. But I am confident that I have
helped.
In his own way I think he was saying thanks for the support
and care. It was very simple on my
part. It only required presence. I had never said a thing to him. It was simply a ministry of presence---no pep
talk or magical words. I doubt that it
even mattered that it was I. He knew me,
of course, but it was the presence that communicated support and care.
All this is analogous to the spiritual. I think what I have been doing is exactly
what God does for all human beings. God
has a ministry of support and care, if we but notice it. And the easiest place to notice it is in the
people of God. A key function of
disciples of the Spirit is to incarnate---to embody---God’s support and care
and to make it real in people’s life. It
can be special. It can keep someone in
the game!
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