The only way to fail is to quit

I've always loved football. In my junior year in high school, I decided to go out for the team.

I was like that character in Necessary Roughness who was an absolute klutz and who should have been dropped, but who the coach couldn't bring himself to cut because he wouldn't give up. I knew that I was never going to suit up for a game. But I kept coming to practices and going through the workouts anyway. It was tough, but there was a payoff: I had something to prove to myself. I might not ever play, but I was not going to quit.

One Saturday afternoon, as I stood there on the sidelines, something happened that I still often think about. Our offense had stalled at about the other team's twenty. With forth and long, the coach decided to do something you rarely do in high school football: kick a field goal.

The kick was blocked. The ball never crossed the line of scrimmage. The officials all gathered around, staring at it lying there on the ground, ignored by everybody else. Apparently, I was the only one on either team who knew that a blocked place kick that never crossed the line of scrimmage was a free ball! Anybody from either team could have picked it up and run with it!

If I had been on the field- klutz or not- that would have been my once chance to be a hero. My lack of ability wouldn't have mattered. Everybody on both teams was standing around looking at each other as if the ball were dead. Nobody noticed that the whistle had never blown! Ever since I've had fantasies of nonchalantly strolling over to the ball, picking it up, and quietly walking into the end zone. I can imagine the look in the eyes of my teammates, wondering what I thought I was doing. And then, the official walking behind me every step of the way shocking everybody on the field and in the stands by raising both of his arms over his head to signal a touchdown!

Alas, it was not to be. I was on the sidelines, not on the field. Should I say something?  No sooner had the thought crossed my mind than I realized that the other team had ears, too. What if one of them heard me, picked up the ball, and ran with it, with everybody on our team standing around and assuming that the play was over? Finally, since nobody was making a move to pick the ball up, the officials shrugged and finally blew the ball dead. The moment passed. But ever since, I've replayed that moment in my head, imagining that I had been on the field and been able to be a hero.

I didn't even go out for the team my senior year. I had learned my lesson. As much as I loved football, I just wasn't any good at it. Besides, I had proved what I needed to prove to myself by not quitting.

I still love football. I play fantasy football every year and cheer for my Bears in the NFL. And like most football fans- even the old-timers like me- sometimes I imagine what it would be like to be out there on the field, dressed in navy blue, burnt orange and white, making like Walter Payton.

If you are a football fan, you've probably had the same silly thought.  Of course, we couldn't handle the physical rigors of playing in the NFL. I doubt that most of us could handle being tackled even once. But what if the rules changed, just for you?

What if you had an invisible force field around you so that while you would get pummeled and shaken up when you were tackled, you would always be able to shake it off?

And what if the whistle never blew? What if, when you were tackled, the other team had to let you get up, give you a five-yard head start,  and keep running as if nothing had happened? What if, as long as you kept getting up, there was no way that the other team could prevent you from running the length of the field on every play?

That's sort of what being a Christian is like.  People get roughed up quite a bit in life, and Christians most of all  It can hurt.  We're constantly trying to escape the clutches of "the Unholy Trinity-" the devil, the world, and our own fallen nature. People who suffer from scrupulosity even imagine that they've failed when they really haven't!  Over and over, we come crashing down to the earth. We fail over and over again every day, far more often than we even know. We become discouraged. Sometimes we even want to give up.

But because Jesus has taken the punishment for our sins, there is none left for us. No matter how many times we fail, and how badly, the whistle doesn't blow. The play goes on. And they have to let you get up and keep running!

As St. Paul says in Romans 8, "There is... no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus." Yes, we fail. We fail over and over every day. But no failure is ever final because the penalty for our sin was nailed to the cross with Jesus. Of course, we regret our sins (although I never cease to be amazed at the number of Christians with scrupulosity who tell me in anguish that they aren't sorry for their sins, with tears running down their faces and absolutely no sense of the absurdity of the statement!). The very thought of letting Jesus down is painful to us. But as the apostle says  in 2 Corinthians 7:10, there are two kinds of sorrow possible at such moments; "For godly grief produces a repentance that leads to salvation without regret, whereas worldly grief produces death."

We become discouraged, wallow in our misery, beat ourselves up, and despair of ever living a life that is pleasing to God. That is worldly grief, and it produces death.

But we also have the option- always- to pick ourselves up, shake it off, and keep running.  That's all we have to do; the whistle never blows. To paraphrase C.S. Lewis,  when you're tempted to sin, resist with all your might. But when, in your weakness, you fail- or, having scrupulosity, imagine that you've failed- shrug it off, tell yourself that it's of no importance, and keep running.

As long as you do that, nothing in all creation can prevent you from reaching your goal, and your every sin will dissolve in the water of your baptism and the blood of your Savior.

It's like the hymn says: