Picked

High school football was the topic of discussion. Many schools in the inner city don't field teams. Some of the ones that do have limited resources, both in finance and skill, to do things as well as their suburban counterparts.

The school many of our kids attend does have a team. So with several of our boys quite eager to play pick-up games each weekend in the park, I asked why they didn't join their school's team.

They all laughed.

"Pastor, the kids on our school's team are, you know, it's like in gym when you're making teams and they look like the ones that don't ever get picked."

I must confess that when I look over our little inner-city congregation it sometimes seems like I could accurately describe us that way, too.

Many of our folks have spent their whole lives not getting picked for the team.

Any team.

So it's easy when I see the abundant skill and financial resources of the Willow Creeks and Saddlebacks of the world, much less the glitz and allure of the secular world's ways, to get depressed over how we can hardly suit up and therefore should plan for defeat.

But then I remember Gideon. And David. And Moses, Peter, James and John. Rahab. Ruth. The list goes on.

Who would have picked them, at least at the beginning of the story?

And I see the strength and courage and passion of our folks who dare to dream of the Kingdom. They're painfully aware of their resource restrictions but are just crazy enough to think they will impact this world for His glory.

It's true that the world might never pick us. On my better days I'm OK with that. I'll just keep on trying to keep us all in training and ready to run onto the field each time He calls our names.

Here am I, send me.