Ping Pong and Jesus

I feel closest to Jesus when I play ping pong. I don't mean close like relationally, but experientially. I probably also don't mean the insults that I yell at my opponent when I am losing. Jesus did yell, but not over a game and probably not before worship when folks are milling.

Ping pong is as close as I probably ever get to being completely present in the moment. I catch glimpses when I play of what it is to respond without being self-conscious or analyzing the snot out of life. If the game is slow, then I will lose. But if it is fast, then I will return shots that are unimaginable. That's from someone who failed the hand-eye coordination test in middle school when I hit the teacher with the peg I was flipping over.

I think Jesus' perfection lies somewhere in his ability to be completely present in the moment (and completely in relationship with God). The standard image of Jesus' perfection is often an asexual, good-looking guy in white who never dribbles coffee down the front of him. If that were true, then I could use a bit of perfection in my life because I have coffee stains on the chest area of all five white shirts I own. There's a reason I stay away from white.

I'm thinking perfection has more to do with showing up where you are and responding faithfully as you need to respond. That's easier to do when you are a single guy wandering around. There's a reason Jesus' disciples left their families. It's hard to be completely present in the moment when there are meals to fix, trash to take out, and toilet paper to put on the holder because obviously no one else in the house is capable of doing this task (maybe that was a conversation at the Stage-Harvey house tonight).

But, there were some folks who encountered Jesus and headed back to their families faithfully. I like to think it is possible to be loving, forgiving and present in this life without leaving family (except maybe for a moment tonight when a lone trip to Nepal seemed pretty appealing). Being present does take commitment and practice, unless you're a kid.  I suppose that's why I love this old picture of the kids running in the lupine field. They do teach us something.

I have to practice being present and responding faithfully to what is actually going on around me, not what I want to be going on around me. As strange as it sounds, I'm much better at living in the moment when I plan my week in detail and sketch out six months ahead of time. Once I have a big picture of what needs to happen by when, I'm much better at handling surprises and showing up with my whole self.

I also have to be honest about places and situations where it is hard for me to show up with my whole self. If I am on the phone for more than fifteen minutes listening, then I have probably started looking at shoes on Sierra Trading Post. Sorry, phones are hard for me. If I am at a large church meeting for more than an hour, then I am probably in the corner eating ginger snaps and playing cribbage. I'm still listening, but only with my right ear.

I'm not trying to be Jesus; I'm just trying to figure out how to love more and yell less. I'm trying to figure out how to be completely human without missing the important stuff.

The "perfect" Jesus in movies tends to freak me out or bore me to death, but some of my best glimpses of grace have come in those perfect moments when someone shows up with their whole selves and there is a bond or experience in that moment that's bigger than the moment. I don't know how to explain it better any more than I know how to explain my ability to whomp some booty on the ping pong table when I am not even trusted with scissors. Try showing up to life with your whole self; that's better than words.