Keeping Score

I love bowling. I really do.

I think it’s mostly nostalgia. I learned to bowl from my grandmother and great-aunt (both of whom I loved – and both of which passed away in the last handful of years). I have a lot of sweet memories of bowling with them.

Then, when I was in high school, my brothers and I picked up bowling again. I’m the oldest. Michael is a little more two years younger and Matt is three years – almost to the day – younger than Michael. I don’t know why but bowling bonded us. It’s what we did together – just the three of us.

So, when my mama called me to say that she was taking Annie – my oldest niece and my little brother’s daughter – bowling and asked if I wanted to come, I dropped what I was doing to be there.

Moments before I arrived Annie smashed her finger between two bowling balls on the rack. She finished out the last two frames but had no desire to play another game. She asked if I would play the second game for her.

So, I did.

I bowled my own game – and I bowled hers.

I honestly don’t remember what I scored for Annie.

I do know that a handful of frames in I had bowled a hundred points in Annie’s name.

And she was delighted.

“Chrissy!” she shouted to my mama. “I have a hundred points!”

Let’s be honest. Annie didn’t have a hundred points. I had a hundred points.

But she got that I was bowling for her. She got the credit for the score I bowled. It wasn’t my score – it was hers.

Here’s the thing.

I’ve gotten credit for a game I didn’t bowl.

Jesus played the perfect game. He bowled 300 (the highest score you can get in bowling, in case you didn’t know).

And He did it on my behalf. He bowled, if you will, in my name.

I did nothing. I bowled only gutter balls. I didn’t knock down a single pin.

But Jesus credited His perfect game – His perfect life – to me.

He’ll do the same for you.

All you need to do is stop trying to bowl your own game and let Him give you His score.

Finding Shade

Jadav Payeng lives on the river island of Majuli.

In 1979, when Payeng was just 16-years-old, the island was hit by heavy rains. The floods washed a large number of river snakes ashore, where they were unable to survive the intense heat that broke when the rain subsided. Payeng stumbled upon dozens of dead snakes and wept over their carcasses.

Payeng decided to abandon his education and dedicate himself to planting trees along the shoreline so when the next heavy rains came the snakes that ran ashore would be protected from the hot sun and have a chance at survival.

As I read Payeng’s story I couldn’t help but wonder what on earth would possess anyone to give up everything they had to save snakes. Snakes! 

Snakes are not beautiful. They’re not appealing. They hiss and they bite and they poison.

Why would anyone abdicate their opportunity for a comfortable life to dedicate themselves to saving snakes?

I honestly don’t know.

What I do know is that we’re not that different than snakes.

Don’t get me wrong. We are made in the image of God and, so, dignified. 

But our sin has tarnished our beauty. Our sin has, frankly, made us unappealing. We hiss and we bite and we poison.

Our sin renders us about as worth rescuing as a bunch of river snakes.

Yet God.

 I don’t know what Payeng believes. I know nothing of his faith.

But I do know that, in planting trees to protect river snakes from the heat, he was imaging his Creator.

As Payeng abandoned his comfort, so God stepped down from His throne to give Himself over to covering us – not with the shade bamboo but with the blood of His Son.

Praise God that as we wash ashore – left to the oppressive heat of sin and death – we find shade in the presence of our loving God.