Picked to be Fruitful, Part 1

Chosen.  Picked.  They are words full of hope, especially when we hear their opposite – left behind.  Ignored.  Forgotten. 

I hate volleyball.  For every year of my three years of Junior High School, nine weeks of the 18 weeks spent in physical education centered around volleyball.  I’m not sure why volleyball was so important – I mean, really, do we play volleyball that much in real life that I HAD to learn how to play it in Junior High school?  I practiced at home; I tried to master the skills of serve and volley,but to no avail.  I was (and remain to this day) absolutely no good at the sport, if we must call it that.

I remember one particular gym class.  All of the students were lined up on the bleachers, and two Volleyball Marvels had been chosen as team captains, and told to pick their teams.  You know how that goes.  As each captain chose a team member, that person would get up and go stand in on the gym floor with the newly forming team, leaving the unchosen on the bleachers.  Ten of us left, six of us left, two of us left.  Not very many people have had the distinction in their lives of being the VERY LAST ONE left sitting on the bleachers, but I have.  I was the last person “chosen,” although at that point, what choice did the team captain have?  I was the one left, so I went to his team.  His choice might actually have been to leave me on the bleachers for all that I know.  Now, imagine having to play as a member of that team, knowing that you are literally the very last one anyone wanted.

I imagine many of us know what that kind of experience is like – maybe in sports, or maybe not, but we know what it is like to not be chosen. To not be the first choice. To not be the one who gets the job or who stays married. To be less loved or wanted than someone else.

Sunday’s lectionary reading from John shows us a different way. Sunday's reading shows us the way of God.

Continued tomorrow...