Basketball & Being Together: Morning Watch Mondays

I loved basketball when I was growing up. I still do.

I would watch Chicago Bulls games every single night on television. I would watch videos of Jordan, Magic, and Bird to inspire me before heading to the backyard to emulate their moves against my poor younger brother. My Saturdays were spent at the Recreation Center in Columbia, SC, where my parents would endure hours of eardrum-bursting referee whistles echoing off the walls of the gymnasium, questionable coaching decisions, and disgruntled fans. My family would travel with our team to other towns, playing the best they had to offer while experiencing new towns and new cultures together.

I LOVED basketball, and that love originated in my backyard. My father and my grandfather set up a hoop for us in the backyard one year, and then laid a concrete slab for Christmas later that year. Eventually, they even ran a trench and cable to install a flood light so that we could play late enough to make the neighbors complain! My brother, best friends, and I have logged MANY hours back there competing, arguing, and filming dunk videos using a hidden mini trampoline.

Yet the best times were when we would be back there playing and a light would suddenly come on at the back door of our house. No matter what was happening in the game we would stop and stare at the door hoping that we would see a pair of green Celtics shorts, a Celtics shirt tightly tucked in, and a mid-calf socked man start to walk down the stairs. My dad would come down to the court to play with us, and we were thrilled every time. Whatever game we were playing stopped, and a new one would begin.

He couldn’t dribble with the same sort of flare that we thought we had, nor could he explode to the hoop for a layup. Yet he could back you down slowly with an awkward dribble, then sneakily hold the ball between his legs and pretend to shoot to fake us out. We would only recover in time to watch his patented sky hook (ala Kareem Abdul Jabaar) fly overhead toward the goal. He could throw a fake pass with the best of ’em, and even swish an awkward two-handed overhead shot every once in a while. I can’t remember a single score that was kept, but I can remember that we laughed hard pretty much the whole time, and it was rowdy.

There is a freedom and light-heartedness that came from being with my dad in those moments. I suddenly didn’t take myself so seriously, nor was I consumed with how cool I looked to my friends. Dad did not have much to teach us about the game of basketball, but he had plenty to teach us about real life and love by letting us be with him, and him being with us. We got to know the ridiculous, fun, awkward side of him that we didn’t always get to see. More importantly, he showed he wanted to be around us. It was a huge deal, and still is.

Did you know that we have a God who delights to be with us, and invites us to be with Him? Just like my dad came down the stairs to the basketball court where we were, God stepped down out of heaven to be born into our world where we are, and His name is Jesus. His whole purpose was to come into our world and live among us so that we can know Him and what He is really like! God did not come into our world just to tell us what we are doing wrong or teach us how to “live better.” No, Jesus was interested in us knowing Him, being with Him.

When Jesus chose the 12 people that would deliver His Good News to the rest of the world, He did something very interesting. In the Bible, Mark 3:13-14 (the book of Mark, chapter 3, verses 13 & 14) says, “Jesus went up on a mountainside and called to Him those He wanted, and they came to Him. He appointed twelve that they might be with Him and that He might send them out to preach…”