Unsportsmanlike Conduct

I love football. I like other sports, but I enjoy and understand football. It seems like it gets tougher every year to watch. Somehow money and politics have managed to take some of the fun out of what was once something that brought people together. But I have wonderful memories of Sunday afternoons, gathered together to watch a game, no matter who you were cheering for.

Part of the Sunday ritual was "discussing" how good or bad the referees were and how close the calls were - who stepped on this line and who missed that call. That white line seems pretty innocent on your tv screen until it's the deciding factor between winning and losing. It's all part of the game. Rules and boundaries. Lines and instant replay. Just like life, you have to play by the rules.

Recently, I had the opportunity to observe a 5 week session with a Batterers Intervention class. Correction... I participated in 5 weeks of the 26 week Batterers Intervention class. You see, you're not allowed to observe, if you're there, you're expected to participate. And I don't have time to take the whole class yet, so they were gracious enough to let me sit in on one segment of the class. I was warned of the 'participation' ahead of time. I knew the risk. I knew they were going to discuss tough issues and feelings of my past were going to get brought up.

I'm not going to say I never had any doubts about my decision. On my way to class the first night, I was a nervous wreck. Come on... I was going to be a survivor sitting in a room full of abusers. I had no idea what their crimes were or how serious their crimes were, only that they were ordered by the court to be there, and to them, I might be the enemy.

I was introduced as an advocate. I received a workbook and we forged ahead.

I could write a book about the things I learned in those 5 weeks. Not about the class or about batterers, but about myself.

Over the last year, I've come to know myself pretty well. At least, I thought I did. I've spent time alone and allowed myself to be vulnerable. I truly believe that we're only as strong as we're willing to be vulnerable. But this class pushed me past the edge of vulnerability. What I discovered is, even in my willingness to be open and vulnerable, I stayed within a comfort zone.

But, here's the thing... I walked into that class thinking I was going to learn the difference between victims and abusers. And what I really learned was that I'm no different than them. I was just one step away... one LUCKY step away, from being exactly like most of them.

My past was just as confusing, just as ugly as theirs. We all lashed out at life. Some of us drank too much. Some of us used drugs. Some threw chairs, while others threw punches. We were all lashing out at life... a life that was cruel to us, so we decided to be cruel back. We were punishing anyone that got close to us and in turn, punishing ourselves.

The only difference between me and them, is somewhere along the way, they got caught stepping on the white line. We were all playing the same game, but no one caught me stepping out of bounds, no one blew the whistle when I jumped offside. No one was screaming and yelling from the crowd to send my butt to the locker room. My crowd sat in silence. Apparently, no one was screaming to see the instant replay.

As I sat there listening to everyone week after week, what left an impression on my soul was the similarities, not the differences. I kept thinking "What if I had been caught?" and "How different might my life be?" It made me realize how many times I'd stepped on that white line and gotten away with it. But I know many people who have stepped on that white line. Are they sitting in a room somewhere like this? Do they even realize what the alternative is?

It all seemed so overwhelming until God reminded me that sin is sin. It doesn't matter how many times I stepped on that white line or how flagrant the act was, sin is sin. If anyone who ever sinned had to lineup for judgement, our world would come to a screeching halt. For we all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God (Roman 3:23). Sin comes naturally to our flesh. It is the living in righteousness that takes so much work - and even then, we fail.

It is the sole purpose of the cross, the sacrifice of the Lamb of God, that He bear the burden of our sins so that we may be forgiven. That does not mean we are not accountable for what we do while on this earth. We still need to play by the rules and follow the laws, pay our due diligence. But we can do that with a heart forgiven by God.

Judgement of anyone comes at a cost. That's what I learned from this. Thirty years ago, that could have been me and now, here I am... writing this. Judgement isn't about analyzing someone else's life, it's about taking a good, hard look at your own and determining if you're any better. Are you willing to be honest with yourself? If everyone was truly honest with themselves, there would be a lot less judgmental word flinging going on in this world, and a lot more apologies happening.

So, the next time you look in the mirror, what do you see? A player, a referee, a cheerleader? I'm not sure it matters. Just know where your heart is when you step out onto the field.

James 2:10 NIV For whoever keeps the whole law and yet stumbles at just one point is guilty of breaking all of it.