Ahh…the Olympics. They are here every four years and yet, it always seems I underestimate their ability to pull me in, show me to my seat on the couch, and entice me to watch hours of sporting events I would never normally be drawn to. Case in point: my wife laughed as she walked in the room yesterday to find me intensely watching team rhythmic gymnastics. Ribbons. Hoops. Things that look like maracas. I’m in. Go team.
So after putting the kids to bed last night, I said goodbye to the Olympics while watching the closing ceremonies. Nearing the end of the broadcast, Chris Collinsworth, normally of NFL analyst fame, took a moment to dream about “what could be.” He wondered out loud how, if for two weeks, the world can unite around sports, how in the world can we not live in peace with one another. I often wondered the same thing, Chris just happened to say it. And this is the great paradox. The teams that square off on the soccer field today will square off on the battlefield tomorrow. Sprinters running towards a finish line will be sprinting away from the shrapnel of a suicide bomber. Athletes embracing in victory and defeat will embrace in loss and mourning. Something is seriously wrong here.
This is not a commentary on war but more a hope for life. There has to be more than two weeks of peace out there somewhere. I know a kingdom is coming with no need for sword or gun, but when will it be realized? How much longer must we hate our very own brother?
Something is seriously wrong here.