The World's Cup

The last time I thought about soccer—let alone played it—was probably three decades ago. Yet, as the world’s largest tournament descended on our country’s shores and the home team showed some promise, even I caught some of the football fever.

My son and I joined a friend and his boys for some chicken wings at a local sports bar to watch the game. It was just as fun, if not, I dare say, more fun than watching the Philadelphia Eagles (which is quite a hot take in these parts). Almost instantly, a community of soccer fans popped up in the restaurant, and I was entertained not only by how in-sync these strangers were with their boos and cheers, but also by the spirit of palpable joy that was present by the prospect and eventuality of a victory.

The next morning, I was listening to an audiobook in which the atheist author happened to include both religion and large sporting events as examples of—and methods through which—the instinctive human need for communion is met. According to the author, the chants (either in a church or in a stadium) and the unified movements (whether kneeling in a pew or joining the wave in the stands) feed our intrinsic need to be a part of something bigger than ourselves. I turned off the book recording only to check the news and see a social media post titled: “The World needed the World Cup.”

As I mourned alongside my fellow American soccer fans in a hotel bar about our loss to Belgium, the comparison made, and more importantly, the contrast not made, between church and sports still lingered in my mind. In life, leadership, and especially faith, how do I seek fulfillment—and why? While the highs of the soccer matches were undeniable, so were the lows of the losses. The anticipation was exciting, and the abrupt end was depressing. There was unity, yet when things didn’t work out, people started finding cause for blame.

How often do I dismiss, diminish, or deny the steady disciplines or practices that will keep me advancing in favor of that which is more episodic, dramatic, or popular? Do I discount the grace, connection, and fulfillment that the World’s Cup, His Cup, gives me because it’s available to me daily? While the noise in a stadium can get me psyched up, how do I contribute to and connect with the earthly and heavenly crowd in the communion of saints who are with me whether I win or lose?

As I later watched a Brazilian player kneel in prayer and bless himself after his loss, I decided there’s room for both soccer and faith, and I was grateful for his reminder to me that no matter how amazing a World Cup victory is, it doesn’t come anywhere close to the Victory we didn’t earn but are blessed to share. As we continue in this tournament called life, let’s make sure we are always drinking from the Cup that connects us all with each other in the name of the Ultimate Victor.