The Olympics

In short, I love them! We're watching the opening ceremonies right now, even the kids who are up far, far, past their bedtime and who are one by one dropping off into the Land of Nod. I grew up loving watching the Olympics, some of my favorite memories coming from the times my sisters, mom, and I watched gymnastics or ice skating (depending on the particular Olympics) with breathless enthusiasm as my dad scoffed at the ridiculous scoring systems. Of course, there really was - and probably still is - all sorts of unfairness, and some of the athletes really do take things too far, I suppose, but I really do believe there must be some intrinsic value in this kind of finely honed athleticism. I know it can be abused and perverted, but there is often something so stirring and beautiful about the patriotism and personal triumph displayed at the Olympics. The intensity, the shadows of years of sacrifice, the soaring joy, the sinking sorrow of defeat - and the unique combination that often emerges in one sweeping moment, as in the poignant story of the runner whose father helped him hobble over the line simply to finish the race. How deeply it moved me when I first saw it, and remembering it with each airing of the "Go World" spot on TV still brings tears to my eyes. "I beat my body to win the prize," said the apostle Paul, and I think he was using this analogy in a positive light. Disciplining the body, pushing the limits, going faster, reaching farther, even the fierce edge of competitive desire - I think these are divinely-bestowed qualities woven into our human nature.

And so for the next two weeks, our TV will be on, streaming the Games!