Whose Rules Do You Play By?

My father was a division one collegiate football coach, so my competitive nature should have come as no surprise to those who knew me as a child. Though I’ve mellowed into a kinder, gentler version of me, in my younger years I had yet to refine the rough edges which propelled my desire to win. In second grade I read a book that, quite frankly, no child with my personality traits should have been allowed to read. Though I can’t recall the title, the book was filled with sure-fire ways to win party games, including one game my friends inevitably played at birthday parties—Pin the Tail on the Donkey. While this handy manual conceded no fool proof way to win Pin the Tail on the Donkey existed apart from cheating, it did, however, outline a little known rule:  A secondary prize should always be given to the child whose tail is furthest away from the donkey, in addition to the first place prize awarded to the child whose tail is closest. My eyes widened and my heart beat wildly as my seven year old mind unraveled the implications of discovering this life altering revelation. I would never go home empty handed from a party again!

Days later my classmate Debbie had a party. True to form, her mom tacked the vinyl Pin the Tail on the Donkey poster on their family room wall, handed us each a tail, and blindfolded the first child. One by one, each of my classmates did their best to pin their tail as close to the donkey as they could, while I stood smugly, arms folded across my chest, confident in my strategy. If only they knew what I knew!

Finally, my turn came. Debbie’s mom secured my blindfold, spun me around, and set me free. Poor Mrs. Johnson, she actually felt sorry for me when I walked away from the donkey board, and headed straight toward the wall on the opposite side of the room. My heart soared with joy when I removed my blindfold and realized no one’s tail could possibly be further than mine. Mrs. Johnson gave me one of those “oh dear, isn’t she kind of pitiful?” smiles, grown-ups sometimes give to children they feel sorry for. I’m sure she wondered if I was just a bit on the slow side.

When the last tail had been placed, it was time for prizes at last. I could hardly wait. Boy would my friends be surprised when they realized my well-played strategy!

Sadly, I was the one left surprised. Mrs. Johnson had a prize for the first place winner. She’d even purchased a prize for the second place child. But there would be no prize for me.

I sat stunned. My smug smile wiped clean off my face, replaced with shock and shame. Hesitantly, I approached Mrs. Johnson “Excuse me, but isn’t there supposed to be a prize for the tail furthest from the donkey? I read a book that said there was.”

“Oh honey, no. Maybe you misunderstood.”

The book had been specific about the last place prize. I was sure of it. I banked my hope on it. I based my entire strategy of game playing on it. I had placed my faith in what I read between the pages of that book.

But the book was wrong.

“Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen,” Hebrews  11:1 says. Assurance. Conviction. Those are strong words. Certain words.

Faith is only as good as the object of our faith. I put faith in a book whose assertions were wrong. My faith determined my actions. I played the game according to my beliefs, but since my beliefs were faulty, my faith proved worthless.

Far too many women play the game of life based on beliefs that, in the end, fail to deliver, leaving them disillusioned, heartbroken and confused. Beliefs like:

God grades on the curve.

I’ll go to heaven because I’m a good person.

It doesn’t matter what you believe, as long as you believe in something.

When we die, we die. There’s no heaven or hell.

All religions lead to God.

People are nothing more than a set of molecules brought together by time and chance.

My faulty, childish belief left no permanent mark, just a brief moment of embarrassment and defeat. But faulty beliefs about God have permanent implications, ones we dare not gamble with. Our faith must be rooted in the truth, backed up by facts, and proven over time. Faith is not a feeling. Faith is not a blind leap despite the facts. Faith isn’t something you either have or you don’t. True, authentic faith is only as good as the object in which you place your faith. Faith is based upon the truth, not in spite of it.

So, what is truth?

Jesus made a pretty bold claim, one that should be seriously considered. “I am the truth” Jesus said. (John  14:6)  If our faith is only as good as the object in which we place it, then we need to make sure our faith is grounded on something—or someone—rock solid. Someone who can be trusted. Someone who won’t disappoint.

Every one of us plays the game of life based on some set of rules. Are you sure your rules are founded on the truth?  The game of life is one game we can’t afford to lose.