House Divided

"Roll Tide!"

"Beat Bama!"

You see it on car tags. Coffee mugs. Key chains. Front porch banners.

Phrases like "Gators and Dawgs!" "Trojans and Bruins!" "Buckeyes and Wolverines!" "Longhorns and Sooners!"

How did you miss this conversation? You could've had this anywhere. Over lunch. At the gym. On your first date. Marriage counseling.

Most of us are born into it. Others, crazy enough, marry into it.

Some of us are won by the sheer loyalty of the fans around us. It's persuasion at its finest!

Family. Friends. Laughing. Playing. But that one day, that 3rd Saturday in October, is better left alone. Give them space. Maybe a whole other house altogether.

Tomorrow we can be friends but today, today, we fight to the death!

Before every game we hear the national anthem. Some standing. Some kneeling. All listening. Then cheering. And the game begins. In the trenches. Between the hedges. And for a moment our patriotism is put on hold as we place our lock, stock, and barrel of allegiance on our team.

We can befriend strangers in the stadiums, tailgates, and bars so long as they root for our favorite team. And create enemies out of allies for anyone sporting opposing teams' jerseys on game day.

This division with others can become brutal though. What begins as a joke or small jabs at someone else because their team lost or their coach was fired begins to create irritating tension.

It's incredible to think how united or divided we can become by the entertainment of watching guys running and throwing a ball around the field. And the attitudes created on Saturday night that carry over into Sunday conversations at lunch.

It's a thing of worship, really. Those coaches, players, stadiums, mascots, our alma mater, have been placed on a pedestal of praise. Or perhaps even lamenting in sackcloth and ashes.

Worship is a war zone. Pledges like "this is our house," "our year," "next year" come bellowing out of painted faces like Mel Gibson in Braveheart.

And here I find this internal struggle woven deep into my own soul; a house divided.

Here's the struggle. I do things I don't wanna do and neglect doing things I know I ought to do. That's a paraphrase of Paul's struggle in his letter to the Romans. But it's true for me too.

This body of mine is lugging around thoughts, perceptions, and predispositions that have been shaped by circumstances and conversations since childhood. These small cartoon character-like figurines sitting on my shoulders whispering in my ear, "do this" or "do that."

This war for my affection is manifesting itself as a form of worship in my soul.

It's a craving to feed my flesh or my faith. This predisposition to figure things out on my own, to be good enough, to hide the less than stellar parts of who I am. Or the alternative; to admit that I don't have it figured out, I'll never be good enough on my own, and there's One who already knows every part of my being and loves me anyway.

I don't want to be a house divided. I don't want this temple of a body to continually battle between good and evil, but unfortunately, I was born this way. "Prone to wander, Lord I feel it, prone to leave the God I love" the songwriter penned.

The good news is as long as I'm fighting there's still hope. There's hope to overcome the tactics of the enemy. To overcome obstacles standing in the way. And overcoming the struggle strengthens my devotion. My obsession. My passion.

Everyday I must suit up for battle. To beat the enemy into the ground. To beat my flesh to death. And every win allows my heart to enjoy the life I was meant to live; a life of freedom found only in the victory of my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ!

So today, today, we fight to the death! We put to death every tendency that is trying to destroy this temple, this house, from representing team Jesus!