Mercy Rule

Its playoff time! Win or go home in Kansas high school soccer.

Last night I reffed my last high school game of the season. Wasn't much of a game. An 0-13 team against a 16-0 team that is number one in the state and ranked three in the nation. A result of having a one seed face a twelve seed in the playoffs.

It wasn't expected to be much of a game. But for the first twenty minutes I was surprised as the 16-0 team seemed to have difficulty finding traction on the sloppy surface and committed weird fouls and unusual offsides and inexplicably knocked the ball out of play on several occasions.

But ultimately, they got their game going and ran up a 10-0 score right before the end of the half.

And in high school soccer, the meant that the mercy rule was invoked and the game was over.

The mercy rule is this: Any time you are up ten or more goals on an opponent and you have played at least a half of the game the game is over.

It is a good thing. Prevents the score from being run up too high and players injuring other players out of frustration and anger. I know some people will say that it is a sign of the times that we don't play it out to the end.

I disagree.

But that is a rabbit trail to follow at another time.

But anyway, it got me thinking: Do I need a mercy rule in my life?

Are there times when I am so consumed with winning, with being right, with getting the last word in, that I forget about the other person and what it does to them?

Are there times when I plow ahead regardless of the situation bound and determined to get to the "finish" without regard to the cost to those around me?

Are there times when I forget mercy and compassion and let my competitive nature take over?

And unfortunately, for me the answer to those questions is all too often: Yes.

And that is not good.

Funny thing. After the game was over you would be hard pressed to tell which team won and which team lost and get the answer right.

The losing team chased down their coach and sprayed him with water and gathered at midfield as a team and cheered and celebrated. Maybe they were just glad that their season is done and they don't have to practice anymore. Don't know the reason why but their joy was there for all to see.

The winning team gathered up its gear and left after meeting with the coach. Not a lot of joy expressed. After all they were supposed to win this way.

And me? I was glad the game was over and I could go and get warm.

And as I wrote this I had the thoughts creep in that I had written about this situation before.

Guess I better learn the lessons this time...

Thanks

Today a refereed a soccer match.

It was a Under 15 girls match of the first division. The teams were very evenly matched.

The game was very even until late in the game and fairly physical. I thought I did a pretty good job of managing the game and letting the players on the field decide the outcome.

There were the typical comments from parents and coaches about what a horrible referee I was. I don't hear that every game but I did hear a it a couple of times. What is especially grating is when I am working hard to get into position and see something five yards away and a coach (or parent) forty yards away complains about the call.

Anyway, after the game, had the usual player and coach hand shakes and the coaches said "Thanks."

I debriefed with my assistant referees and we were pretty happy with how we worked the game.

And I got ready to run lines on the next game.

And then something unusual happened. A parent came up to me. That is usually a bad sign. It doesn't happen often. They usually want to complain or say that I took the game away from the players.

This guy came up and shook my hand and said: "thanks, you called a great game and really kept things under control."

I was kind of struck dumb at that one. This gentleman recognized what a difficult task it is and how hard I was working. And he appreciated what I (and the rest of the crew) had done.

I don't know what team he was rooting for. And it wouldn't change anything if I did.

Reminds me that I need to be more appreciative of the work that others do.

And tell them that I appreciate the work that they do a lot more often...

The 900

Fall is a pretty busy time for me.

Not only is it a return of school and all the headaches that it entails, but it is the start of soccer.

I currently referee high school, youth club soccer and adult league games. There are a lot of referees who work a lot more games than I do. I don't work every night or day of the week.

Part of that is that I am not as young as I used to be. A mans got to know his limitations.

Last week I worked a game between two Christian high schools. I've done both schools several times over the past few years and a lot of the kids were familiar. It was really evenly matched with a back and forth game.

It ended up tied 3-3 at the end of regulation so we went to overtime. At the end of overtime it was still tied so we went to: "shots from the mark" or penalty kicks. The home team ended up winning 4-3.

Really an exciting game. The guys were well behaved (for the most part). The spectators were pretty calm (for the most part) and the coaches didn't yell too much (for the most part). The weather was a rare beautiful fall day. Not too hot and not too cold.

But for me it was also memorable since it was my 900th game refereed. I have kept track of my games ever since I started (mainly to make sure that I got paid).

I know there are plenty of guys who have done more, but that is OK. It is still a milestone that I feel pretty good about.

On to a thousand...

An Interesting Anniversary

So yesterday, Tuesday 1 September, we finished going through Brother Yun's book: Living Water.

It was a good study. Very thought provoking. And very challenging.

And very long. It took almost eight months to finish at about a chapter a week.

And we finished on 1 September which was the anniversary of Marie Monson setting foot in China in 1901.

Marie was a Lutheran missionary to China who often challenged the leaders of the Chinese church on their faith. She challenged them to repent and have more than head knowledge. They were to have heart knowledge of the Holy Spirit. And they were personally responsible before God for their own inner spiritual life.

Marie showed up in China one year after the Boxer Rebellion where over 150 missionaries and thousands of Chinese converts were killed. She stepped out boldly.

In faith.

When she arrived in China, the church was weak and there were few Christians. Today, millions of Chinese Christians hold her in high regard for they consider themselves her spiritual decedents.

And today we are challenged to step out boldly.

In faith.

Not in comfort.

In faith.

Not in security.

In faith.

It may not be to go to a foreign country to live for 31 years. It might be to just go next door and start building a relationship with our neighbors.

It might be to stand up in our congregation for what we know is right.

It might be to put our agenda on hold to help some stranger in need.

It might be to not give in to pressure at work to "fudge" the numbers a little and to take the consequences.

It might mean having to leave the church that you have been comfortably attending for years to go where you see God working and join them there.

It is to not live in fear of what others may think about us. But to live secure in the knowledge that we are doing what God wants us to do and we are where he wants us to be.

To live in faith and step out boldly is to live the Great Adventure, the only adventure that truly matters for time and for eternity.

And that is scary indeed. For we look about us and see what we have and then we want to hold on to it.

And the unknown can be pretty fear inducing. But if we believe that Christ died on the cross for our sins, we know how the story ends.

And let me never forget that...

Three Gallons

So this morning I headed off to the local soccer field to ref a couple of games.

Didn't go too bad. Worked fairly hard and no one got hurt.

And now for something completely different...

Now imagine three gallons of milk. Weighs about twenty one pounds. pretty heavy and bulky.

After I finished my games I headed up to the blood center. I had an appointment to donate blood. Took a little while since there were a lot of people there.

Turns out this was my 24th donation. Or three gallons. I got my pin. don't know when I will wear it since i don't wear too many suits.
There are plenty of people around that have donated much, much more than that.

But it is kind of mind boggling to think of having donated three gallons of blood. And that could have saved up to 72 peoples lives. It is really an honor to be able to donate.

Just another eight donations and a year and twelve weeks and it will be four gallons...

Joy Vampires

Great start to the day!

Up at 440 and headed downstairs with a cup of coffee.
Did my Bible reading: 1 Kings 18, Job 3 and Matthew 17.
Lot of time in prayer.

Fried egg sandwich for breakfast.

Light rain and into work.

Feeling good.

And then they struck. The Joy Vampires. One at time they can be relatively easily handled but when they gang up and all hit at once they are hard to take.

It started with the voice mail and a stupid request from someone who should know better. And then I turned on my e-mail and read a sarcastic e-mail from someone who seemed to think that I should be able to read her mind. I may be psychotic but I am definitely not psychic.

And just like that the joy was sucked out of me. And I was angry and ready to ...

I realized the Joy Vampires had struck and I had let them get the better of me. So I put things in perspective. These requests were important to the people making them even if they seemed idiotic to me. So I handled the requests and moved on to getting the work day organized.

And my joy returned.

And when other Joy Vampires stalked me throughout the day, I was able to fend them off.

You see, the people were not the Joy Vampires (although some people are). The requests were not the Joy Vampires. It was my response to the situation that caused my joy to flee.

And that is all my fault...

Pile O'Problems

Today I dealt with my Pile O'Problems at work.

The Pile O'Problems is where the guys put the problems when we get really busy. Some of these get resolved as people call in and we can figure out what they are looking for. Others just sit and kind of compost until I can deal with them.

Today was the day to deal with them. And I was able to get rid of the pile in about two hours. Surprised that it went so well. One of the guys did a lot of the grunt work and that really made it go quicker.

The psychic benefit was great. Nice to have the pile gone. And it will cut down on the amount of irate calls I get in the next couple of months.

I probably could have dealt with the Pile sooner. I could have found some time to deal with these problems and enjoyed the psychic benefit a lot earlier.

And the work problems are still around, just not the physical ones that stare at me from the Pile O'Problems. About ten minutes after I eliminated the Pile, one of my drivers called to say that he had torn open the box of one of my trucks wide open by running into a low hanging tree branch during a rain storm.

So the enjoyment didn't last long.

But I am reminded that I often have a Pile O'Problems in my personal life. They may come from others or they may be my own fault. I need to tackle them as soon as I can and not let them compost. They will just eat away at me until they are dealt with.

I can't deal with most of them alone though. I need help from above.

Time to go deal with a couple of things...