My Gamecocks won last week. I say ‘my’ because for years I defended them to Clemson fans, Georgia fans, Alabama fans, and Florida fans. I defended my South Carolina Gamecocks during the good times, the bad times, and all too often, the ugly times.
But, my Gamecocks won last week. Now, in case you don’t know, what makes this win so special is that my Gamecocks had lost the previous 21 games in a row. In fact, they held the record for the longest losing streak in college football.
Everybody beat South Carolina. Every team that came to Columbia left a happy team, and even some of the marching bands had a shot at beating the Gamecocks.
But they won last week. In case you didn’t see the game, the, well ‘my’, Gamecocks beat ________ 31-0. The crowd went crazy! They cheered and hollered and even tore the goalpost down at the end of the game everybody was so happy.
After losing 21 games in a row, after being the butt of every joke, after everyone had counted them out, they one.
It doesn’t matter if you are a Gamecock fan or even a football fan, this has to make you smile.
In fact you don’t even have to like sports to appreciate the Gamecocks win, because the real beauty of this victory wasn’t a triumph over _________, but it was a triumph over death.
The real beauty of this victory was a resurrection of life into the players who had only known defeat game after game.
It was a triumph over a losing attitude, it was a victory that brought life into the spirit of the fans and the school and all those people who support the team with their presence and gifts.
It was a victory of jokes and laughs that all centered around the South Carolina Gamecocks.
And like I said earlier, you don’t have to like the Gamecocks, football, or even sports to rejoice in their win, to appreciate their victory, because their win represented something larger than a ‘W’, it represented a new life!
If you don’t believe me, watch news clips of those ecstatic fans tearing down those goalposts in celebration, not of a win, but of a new life!
We can’t help but to smile at their win because everyday we try to accomplish the same thing they did, bring a new life into something that only knew defeat, that only knew death before.
We rejoice because it’s something we all at one time or another strive for, but many times fail.
I switched shampoos this week. It wasn’t by choice, I didn’t buy this shampoo, it was given to me by a family member.
There are two reasons why I didn’t buy this shampoo. The first reason is it cost 40 dollars. Now, I’ve always used the 89 cent "White Rain" shampoo that you buy at Winn Dixie, and I wasn’t about to spend 39 more dollars on a bottle of shampoo.
The second reason why I didn’t buy is that I would be too embarrassed to go up to the counter and purchase it. You see, this isn’t any ordinary shampoo, this shampoo is supposed to grow hair.
Now I don’t like to admit this, but the fact is, I have thin hair and I know that it won’t be long before I won’t have to even buy any more shampoo, much less a kind that costs 40 bucks.
But I have used it every single day, because I know that God has numbered the hairs on my head, but I also knows that he has numbered the days the hairs will stay on my head. And I’m doing all I can to save what hair I have left.
But we all do things such as this, trying to bring life into something that is either dead or dying.
How many things are in your closets and attics that no longer work or worth anything, but you just can’t through ‘em away?
Notice how many hoods of old cars are up on Saturday mornings as men and women try to restore life in that old car or truck that no longer runs like it used to.
Notice how many books on mending broken relationships are in bookstores. Notice how many seminars and workshops that are advertised to bring love back into marriages and families; or in other words, notice how many promises are out there to bring life into something that is dead or dying.
That’s what makes groups such as Salkahatchie and Habitat for Humanity to wonderful, so endearing to our hearts, because we can see and participate in the restoring of life and a future to a house and family that didn’t have much to look forward to.
Maybe that’s why a recent survey rated doctor’s as the most respected occupation, because they word to bring life into those who are dying, they strive to bring a future to those with a bleak present.
Maybe that’s why we pull for the underdog so much. Maybe that’s why we root for the team or individual that is expected to lose, that is expected to fall short, because we desperately need a victory, we so desperately need a triumph.
Maybe that’s why we all can cheer at the Gamecock’s win.
Because life has been instilled where it was dying, even if it is just a game.
In some strange way, it reminds us that we too can restore a life into something that was once dying; that we too can once again enjoy a purpose in something that was once useless.
It reminds us that we too can be victorious, that we too can triumph in our dying relationships, bleak hope, and even silence.
Sometimes, when I’m alone or driving for a long time I begin to think of odd things, or maybe they’re not so odd, perhaps many of you share in these thoughts.
But I think of what I would give up, sight or sound, if I had to choose. If I had to pick between what to give up, my eyes or my ears, which one would it be?
I think about all the wonderful things I’ve seen in my life, the mountains in the fall, the ocean in the summer. Snow. The lights blanketing the field on a high school football game. Sunsets. Puppies. Rainbows over Jerusalem. The inside of churches.
All the wonderful things of such beauty, of such inspiration I would miss if I lost my sight.
And then I think about all the wonderful things I’ve heard in my life. My mother’s voice. Thunder in the summer evenings. The school bell at 3:30. The choir at Christmas. The words I love you. Laughter. Music. Wind.
All the wonderful things of such beauty, of such inspiration and joy I would miss if I could not longer hear.
If there was only silence.
You know, it’s an exercise that forces us to appreciate what we may take for granted.
It’s an exercise that helps to understand what life was like for the man who came to Jesus in hope that he would restore sound to the silence, that he would restore language to the mumbling.
What life must have been like! Never hearing words of love from his wife and children, and never able to return their affection with his own words of love.
What torture life must have been for him. Able to see the world and everything in it, but unable to hear the world and everything in it. Unable to shout, unable to rejoice with song. Unable to argue or share opinion. Unable to ask for something of say thank you.
What torture life must have been for him.
You know, just as we can rejoice and celebrate the victory and triumph of the South Carolina Gamecocks, we can also empathize and share the misery of the man who could not hear or speak.
I say this because many of us may be deaf even though we can hear just fine. We can hear the phone ring and the doorbell sound, but are deaf to the soft, sure voice of God, encouraging, moving, calling us closer to him through faith.
We can hear the baby cry in the middle of the night, but we are deaf to the cries asking for affection and attention from our families and loved ones.
We can hear the rattle in the engine, but we are deaf to the sounds of desperation that our actions scream.
We live our life hearing everything, but listening only to the sounds of silence.
What torture life must be for us. Seeing everything, hearing little and saying even less.
Although we can speak the language of business and ambition fluently, the simple language of I love you, I’m sorry, I appreciate you, I believe, are out of our capability.
We may be able to shout words of anger and argue with the best, but the words I’m here, I understand, I can, I will, and Amen are our of our reach.
What torture life must be for us. Seeing everything, hearing little, and saying even less.
OH how the man wanted life restored to his existence. How he wanted to hear the sounds of life and to speak the words of love, how he wanted to bring back that which was dead!
And he saw Christ. Wanting, hoping, and believing he went to Christ and in all of his love, compassion, mercy, and grace, Jesus restored that which was dead. He gave life back to that which was dying.
He opened the ears of the man who only knew silence and he loosened the tongue that struggled with speech.
That’s why we cheered when the Gamecocks won. That’s why we smiled when they tore down the goalposts because we know that we too can enjoy a resurrection of life.
We too know that living faith can replace a dying one. We too know that weak eyes can be restored to seeing everything clearly and sharply.
We too know that the silence can be overthrown by the sounds of laughter, love, and life.
We too know that the words of hate and doubt can be silenced and songs of hope, peace, and faith can resonate from every rooftop and mountain.
We too know that through faith in the one that gives sight to the blind and songs of angels to the deaf, will restore that which is dying in our life.
We know that Christ will resurrect and restore that which is blocked, clogged, distorted, lost, or dead.
We know that Christ will touch whatever that is in need, and give it life.
That’s why we cheered when the Gamecocks won. Because we rejoice not in the victory of an athletic team, but in the victory of life over death. In hope over despair. In faith over doubt. In love over hate.
Regardless of how many times we’ve lost, there is Victory of Christ, victory in our faith.
The goalposts are coming down!
In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, Amen.