Before you begin to read this, please make sure you look at the picture above. Without the picture, these words won’t make as much sense. This picture was taken on a bright, sunny afternoon on the last weekend of October, in a small, seemingly insignificant town in the middle of nowhere, on an old, empty church playground. The picture was taken in a year that many will call one of the most horrendous and loathsome years of their lives…2020. The context for this picture is nothing more than “in between” and “mundane.”
My youngest son Baylon and I had traveled to an obscure town, to an old run-down gym, to play two basketball games with his travel team. We were there because it was one of the few and only gyms that would allow basketball to be played in a year of pandemic plague. Baylon had finished his first game, and now there would be a two-hour wait until the next game. Only the people playing the games were allowed in the gym. We were in the middle of nowhere, so there was literally nowhere else to go while we waited for the next game. So my son and I went for a walk through the small town. We found an old church with a playground, to which Baylon asked, “Can we go play on that playground?”
The competitor in me wanted to discuss the things he did well and the things he could learn from the previous game he just played. The competitor in me wanted to talk about those things so that Baylon could apply to them to the next game. But in this moment, the dad in me won out over the competitor in me, and I’m glad.
As you scan the pic closely, you will notice that Baylon’s legs have woefully outgrown the equipment upon which he is playing. That’s the sign of a little boy slowly transitioning into a young man, yet struggling with all his might to hold onto that which we all wish we could get back at times…childhood. Who among us, particularly in 2020, would not love to have the freedom of a child again? The freedom to run through the playground unhindered by life’s trivial and momentary worries. The freedom to laugh out loud and scream at the top of your lungs with joy. Perhaps that’s why Jesus said in Matthew 18:3, “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” In other words, Jesus is telling us to pay attention to the stuff kids do and perceive, because sometimes the stuff we don’t think is profound, is actually the most profound. We should know better, we were kids once too. In this single moment, though we were fenced in by the cage surrounding the playground, I felt as free as I’ve been all year. Just me and my kid, playing on a playground, unhindered, laughing, in the middle of nowhere, in between games. Mundane? Routine? No…profound!
There were no mountaintops, there were no white, sandy beaches with waves crashing in over my feet. It was just a plastic space shuttle, an old rusty slide, and an old swing-set, in a town I didn’t even know existed until then. And yet, I was as satisfied as I have ever been.
It seems every Friday afternoon, everyone is always rushing out of town to their “happy place.” But this moment made me realize those moments in the rush are actually more fleeting than most realize. This single, mundane moment on an old church playground, reminded me that life’s greatest moments will never be about places, but about people. I wouldn’t trade this moment with my son, in this obscure town, on a run-down playground, for any moment anywhere else.
The year 2020 has been a year with epic highs and epic lows. Okay, mostly lows. We’ve gone from one extraordinary event to another. Sadly, most people live their life like that on planet earth. We have this illusive chase for the “extraordinary,” the “exciting,” or the “epic.” Obscurity or the mundane “day to day” don’t really define success in our day and time. But I tell you, it is the one who is able to bring greatness to the ordinary who is truly successful. It is the one who learns to be exceptional in the ordinary who has truly captured the heart of what matters most.
Most of life is not going to be lived on the mountaintops of the extraordinary. Sure, we will get those moments from time to time, and they will serve to refresh and inspire us as God-given gifts. But most of life will be lived in the “in-between” and “mundane.” It is in those moments where we are defined, stretched, and challenged most. Sadly, it is also those moments in which we miss what is sometimes most important. But those who are most joyful and free are those who find the wonder in the routine and make the ordinary truly extraordinary.
The difficulty is that we will constantly look for and chase the big and exciting things. But in the drudgery of the routine gruntwork, Jesus displayed the grace and power of God by taking a towel and washing his disciples’ dirty feet. Mundane? In-between? No…profound!
So there I was, a dad, in between basketball games with my kid, in the middle of nowhere, playing on an old, run-down, rusty playground with my youngest son, in the midst of one of the worst years ever. And yet, we were laughing, screaming, and as excited and satisfied as we’ve ever been. The perplexity and vexation of life had been surprisingly washed away by the beauty of the “in-between.” Extraordinary came rushing over us in the most unlikely of places…the routine. And I was better for it. As it should be. Mundane? No…perfect.