Olympics

They call him Superman.

They also call him Tiger Woods in a Speedo, but I'm not sure what to do with that one.

He did amazing things. He did the impossible. (How did he win that 100 meter butterfly anyway?)

They call them the Golden Girls.

(And I don't think they mean four old ladies.) 

They haven't lost a game in over a year. That makes 108 straight sets. In a row. 14 consecutive Olympic matches. Two consecutive gold medals in volleyball. No one's done that before.

With every 50 meters, I inch closer to the TV. By the time they swim the final lap, I have my nose about a foot away from the screen. My hands clasped together, I pray. "Is it bad theology to pray for them?" I ask Chris. He shrugs. At least it's live--I'm not praying retroactively (yes, I've done that too--God's above time, right?).

What the opening ceremony to the Olympics reminded me of:

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, we must get rid of every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and run with endurance the race set out for us, keeping our eyes fixed on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith. For the joy set out for him he endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God" (Hebrews 12:1-2).