pound it

Last week, amid all the last minute scrambling and politicking by Clinton and Obama, one moment caught my eye as being noteworthy. Just as Obama was getting ready for his coronation speech as the presumptive Democratic nominee, there was an exchange between Barack and his wife, Michelle. It was subtle, and appeared to be impromptu. They hugged, and then, warmly smiling at each other, bumped fists. Obama then proceeded to give his speech to thousands of worshiping supporters.

The moment with his wife was significant because it stood apart from much of what we've seen this year. For many candidates (especially the Republicans -- with Janet Huckabee as a clear exception), it seems like the year of the trophy wife. For the Democrats, the massively dysfunctional Clintons have claimed center stage. The Obama's relationship, however, has consistently appeared to be relatively normal and caring. Far from appearing staged, the fist pound was a snapshot of what appears to be a healthy marriage.

I can't help placing this moment alongside Al and Tipper Gore's very awkward mutual "face plant" kiss during the 2000 presidential election. In stark contrast to that unnatural and clearly staged moment, somehow it's reassuring to see a couple that can be comfortably affectionate in public. I think it's the same feeling a child has when he sees his parents holding hands. Knowing that the Obamas may very well be residing in the White House for the next four years, I'm glad to know that: 1. they're young enough to pull off the fist pound, and 2. that they still like each other. Even if I'm not in love with all of their political views, the Obamas represent levels of health and normalcy that have been far too often absent from the White House.

a great cloud of witnesses

This last weekend, for the first time since I can remember, I didn't attend church. Joy was raising money for Team Darfur by running in San Diego's Rock 'n Roll Marathon, so I decided to support her. Some might ask why I didn't join her in this overtly masochistic endeavor. I would remind those inquiring of the history of the sport. The man who originated the marathon, upon completing the 26.2 mile run, promptly fell over dead. I much prefer the role of supportive and pain-free boyfriend.

As I was waiting at mile 20 for her, I was impressed by a number of things. There were some great bands, awesome supporters, and the "running Elvi" were there in full force. But my immediate reaction to the spectacle was the one that has lasted longest. I couldn't believe how many enthusiastic fans and supporters there were. They waved hand lettered signs, rang cowbells, and shouted themselves hoarse. They weren't just standing at the finish line; they were stretched out over twenty six miles. And I could clearly see the effects of their cheers on each runner's expression and posture. When others are watching us, especially if they're encouraging us, we run better and farther. Joy said that she never would have made it without support and encouragement. I'm sure that was true of most of the participants.

As I watched these great fans yell and applaud for people they didn't even know, I was reminded of Hebrews 12:1 "Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us."

I can think of a number of applications for this verse for me, for Christians and for the local church, but from my current life-perspective, one thought elbows the others out: can the local church look more like a rock 'n roll marathon? Can we be a little uninhibited and undignified in our encouragement of one another? If so, maybe our support will result in someone finding release from sin, or strength to continue when things are hard, or the guts to cast off something that's slowing them down. I think those are things I'd be willing to lose my voice for.