The First World Cup

We, as men, are wired to compete.  We have the battle built into us.  For recreation, of all things, we devise activities that we call “games” (just to hide the real intent) during which we willingly sweat, spill our own blood, try to spill the blood of others, and ultimately find ourselves triumphant.

We measure ourselves often by our red badges of courage – those war wounds that we are reluctant to wipe off, but would rather have them dry and cake up on our clothing that we might have a chance to relive the story when someone asks, “What happened?”

It is all about the battle.  It is all about conquering.  It is all about showing our power. 

If we could we would catch all of the blood we spill in a cup just to show that we gave it.

Maybe that is why it is called the World Cup.  At the end of the day it is the team, the men, who spilled the most blood that win.

Have you ever heard the story of the first World Cup?  The blood that filled that one has never been forgotten.

“And he went a little further, and fell on his face, and prayed, saying, O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless not as I will, but as thou [wilt]. He went away again the second time, and prayed, saying, O my Father, if this cup may not pass away from me, except I drink it, thy will be done.” Matt 26:39, 42

Christ took that cup.  He filled it with His blood   He poured it out for us… for our sins, so that all of what we owed God for the times that we dishonored Him might be paid.

We were redeemed by that Cup.

And even though it was filled… for He gave every last drop… it only would have taken one drop. 

Maybe that is why we strive so much in competition.  Maybe that is why we try so hard to conquer… to show that we are worthy of His blood.

But we aren’t of His blood… we are made worthy by His blood.

And that blood… that red badge… I’m gonna let that dry and cake up on me so when people ask “What happened?” I can tell them…

He took the Cup.

SDG