2016/11/4
This week I was in Chicago for work. At first, I wasn't sure why exactly I was being sent there. All the work that I ended up doing in Chicago was work that I could have done in Atlanta. But I can also see why people get sent to Chicago because of the time they are able to spend with their team members on a given project. But this isn't about my work in Chicago. This is about what was happening outside of work in Chicago.
A lot of things in life are contagious. Diseases are contagious - lots of my co-workers and friends I met up with this past were sick. Laughter is contagious. Trendy music and style is contagious. Happiness is contagious. And this week, sports was contagious.
For those who are not aware, the last time the Cubs won the world series was 1908. That's 108 years since their last title. The loveable losers people called them. The longest standing curse or baseball. And this year that curse was broken on Nov 2nd, as the cubs won one of the best game 7 world series in dramatic fashion against the Indians who at one point were up 3-1 in the series.
Wednesday night, sitting in the lobby bar of my hotel, surrounded by so many people. My Cubs-fan bartender working while watching the game, some Chicago natives, others like me in Chicago for work, and one vocal Indians fan. I became a Cubs fan. I had to. There was just no other possible option at the time. Now of course afterwards, I was not one to pretend like I related to everyone else's victory. But within the duration of the game, I like everyone else around me was rooting for the cubs to make their comeback story. To win against odds and break the curse that had been haunting their baseball loving city for years and years. It's contagious. But the thing about sports contagiousness is that everything about it is contagious. The anger at a error or missed pitch, the stress of wondering if your team might lose, the frustration of the loss of a commanding lead, the joy and cheer at a run, even the clapping for something as simple as a walk onto first base. Everything about it is contagious.
And I loved it. As an avid supporter of my football team the Seattle Seahawks, I knew a little of what they felt. 2 and a half years ago, my team had finally won our first Super Bowl in franchise history. And when you're a fan, the world feels right when you finally see your team win. No one can take away the moment. That feeling of victory is contagious. Everyone wants to join in. Hours on hours of cars honking on the streets, people hugging and high fiving strangers they met 3 hours ago. And an older man kissing his wife, then looking at me says, I'll kiss you too [which he did].
It was history. And I'm thankful to say I got to experience it. Even as a bystander, I just wanted to enjoy the game. And that's exactly what I did from start to finish. However, at the end of the day, we can still measure the will a city. Whether by its population, or the number of years it waited, or by the number of days of partying, the number of people who show up to the victory parade (recorded as the 7th largest gathering of people in human history), we are able to measure tthe excitement, the joy, the contagiousness of a city. But not God.
And my final thought was, "Man. What if the attitude that we have about God were to be as contagious as the attitude these people have for their baseball team?" I know super generic. But that thought couldn't leave my mind. We get a glimpse of it at places and settings like retreat, prayer vigil, and sometimes even at Sunday service, but what if every waking moment of our lives, we lived with the enthusiasm that God is alive. The Cubs found victory over a 108 year drought, but guess what, Christ won over an eternity of drought. We have every reason every day to be contagious for the Lord. And so my challenge at this time is to be contagious for the Lord, like how contagious a city became for its iconic sports team. To be contagious for eternity with God. To be contagious beyond measure.