High Performers

“What do you mean you were invited to the High Performers Celebration?” his wife asked incredulously. Earlier in the week, they argued over their most recent family financial crisis. The fact that he was considered a high performer made no sense to her, nor to him. While his sales had been respectable, they were nothing remarkable.

Arriving at the event, he was interested to find others who were equally confused by being invited. Still, no mistakes were made. All high performers were there, and the company wanted to celebrate their work.

As I listened to him describe the event, and his bewilderment over being invited, I couldn’t help but compare it to the way Jesus made people feel in his day. Like today, he lived at a time when people strove to achieve much and be seen as leaders in their communities. As a result, when he spoke of a banquet to which people were invited, a job for which people were hired, or a gate through which people were to enter, many listeners assumed they would likely to make the invitation list. So, too, others felt as if they were in the social bleachers, looking on at the impressive lives of others.

What fascinates me most about Jesus is who is on his invitation list. Like so many, I measure people by who they are and what they have achieved, which I am embarrassed to admit is usually determined by the financial success they have enjoyed. These “high performers” would clearly receive invitations to any celebration, but this is where Jesus surprises us all. Instead of the leader of the synagogue, or members of the most prominent families, Jesus invites people not even recognized by society. Like my friend who found himself at the High Performers Celebration, I believe many invited to Christ’s celebration will have no idea why they were invited. 

“I didn’t sell all that many houses this year, but I remember waving my fee for the widow who couldn’t afford the cost.”

“I left prominent position at the church to start a camp for kids which struggles to make ends meet.”

“I lost my job and have simply volunteered at the food pantry until I find another one.”

These are today’s widows with two copper coins. These are the men and women who beat their chests while confessing their shortcomings rather than touting their worthiness. These are the ones who stopped to help the one in the gutter. In other words, these are the unlikely ones who perform highly.

To look at it another way, what if Jesus came and threw a party for today's high performers? I have no doubt such news would cause some of our local pastors and rabbis to hurry home and shine their shoes and iron their vestments. Those on the wealthiest-among-us list would clear their calendars. And yet, invitations to such an event arrive in unlikely mailboxes. My hope is that we will one day look around the room and give thanks that someone greater than we was in charge of the invitation list.

Swimming pools

This is the season of swimming pools. The air is filled with the sound of splashing and shouts of joy. It’s also a time for adults to sit at the water’s edge and unwind. Whether dangling feet in the water, or sitting in a chair, staring out at the pool can allow our minds and hearts to wander and souls to breath. Pools have much to say. The clean, cool water is invitation enough to remember the need for refreshment, but there’s something more of which we need to take note. 

At one end the water is shallow, the other deep. I remember as a child walking from the shallow end into the deep, feeling the water rise above my bathing suit, up my chest, over my neck, lips, and eventually eyes and hair until I was completely submerged. It was at this point I had to begin swimming. My feet went from standing to kicking, my arms from relaxing to moving from side to side so my head stayed above the surface.

    Sitting by the water’s edge today, I see small children playing in the shallow end. It’s where they belong. Eventually they will long to swim in deeper water. Also in the shallow end are mothers standing and talking about things like last night’s party or a recent trip. Off to the side, two are engaged in what a friend refers to as “Christian evaluation,” a humorous description of gossip. Topics like whose marriage is struggling, who might have a drinking problem, are all fodder for such conversations and they are often done while holding what they feel is a well-deserved cocktail at the end of the day. It’s been years since they swam in the deep water.

Down at the other end, the people are actually swimming. There is far less chatter down there. Some are challenging themselves by going below the surface to dive for a coin or object resting below. Others are leaping from the diving board, trying to make the biggest plash or perfect dive.

The pool is an invitation to ask in which end of the pool we live? Do we live where our feet can touch the ground, where we are in control and secure? Do we stand still, perhaps talking to other shallow pool dwellers about shallow things? Do we stand where people can admire our new suit and our hair stays dry, neat, and tidy? 

Or do we dwell in deeper waters? Do we actually swim? Do we have the courage to let our feet leave the bottom? Are we willing to leave the surface in search of something below? Are we willing to hold our breath? Can we learn to make a big splash, or dive in a way that makes no splash at all? 

Or are we like those who long to swim in the deeper water, who might even venture into it for a brief moment before returning to where their feet can touch the ground. These are the ones who long to live lives of faith, to think and explore deep thoughts, but do nothing with them. They might pray or write about life in the deep water, but never really go there. They dwell in both the shallow and deep water, but live in neither. 

As we sit beside the pool this season, with time to think about things other than carpools, business responsibilities, or social obligations, the invitation to ask ourselves in which end of the pool we reside is splashing at our feet. How we answer is, of course, up to us.

Teammates

I didn’t like him. Yes, I helped move his things up to his dorm room, but that was only because his cousin standing by, who happened to also attend the school, was drop-dead gorgeous. My efforts had nothing to do with him; They were all about her.

When I arrived at soccer try-outs, I was dismayed to see he was not a football player. As we broke into our preferred positions, I saw he was a goalie. I was not, but I was a deep sweeper, the defenseman who serves as the last one between the opponent and the goal, the one who stands closest to the goalie.

Soon the roster was posted and the two of us were now teammates, next to each other for the remainder of the season. Things remained rocky between the two alpha dog soccer players . . that is, until our first game. Suddenly, the two of us looked beyond each other, down the field, and realized we had a bigger purpose, a new opponent.

Memories of the rest of that season are among my fondest. Our successful season paled in comparison to the friendship that emerged. That pain in the ass goalie became my closest friend. He was an usher at my wedding and ordination, and I officiated at his wedding. More than those official moments, however, it’s those times when we were in his dorm room, playing backgammon and sharing what was really going on in our lives, that I hold most dear. More than the content of those conversations, I remember the shared love of music, the safety of real friendship, and, of course, my superior backgammon abilities.

Looking back, I wonder how many other friendships I’ve missed because of a limited perspective? How many people have come my way only to have my initial impressions prevent me from looking down the field at a bigger purpose?

Of course this is not just about me and a high school friend. In a community of artists, we can focus on our own creative pursuits while comparing ourselves to others, or we can look down the field at the gift we give the world by creating and support each other in that common goal. In a business, we could worry about our own career or see beyond and work with others for the reason the company is in business in the first place. In a church, we can glance down the pew and compare our righteousness (or sinfulness) to others, or link our arms and hearts together for the journey of grace we share.

Today I give thanks for the gift of my high school friend and the lesson we learned. May I remember to always look down the field and assemble as many teammates as I can.