My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart, my portion forever. ~Psalm 73:26
Not too long ago, before DVRs and streaming replays on the web were as standard in homes as flush toilets, missing a game on television was just that—missing a game. Today, for those guys with even average technological intelligence, recording a game or finding the replay online, then watching it later, is a common occurrence.
Back in the early seventies, even though no one I knew owned their own VCR and could “tape” the game, our local independent television station, WGN, gave us two chances and replayed Chicago Bulls games late on the same night as the games themselves. Since Michael Jordan was only in the fourth grade at that time, this delayed broadcast gave us another shot at seeing our favorite team lose again.
Through a mutual friend I had met Pat Williams, the Bulls’ general manager at that time. At a Christmas party, Pat told us what had happened the night before. He had been on the road visiting with some college prospects. He had hoped to catch the game against Rick Barry and the Golden State Warriors, but because his flight had been delayed, he had completely missed it. Knowing, however, that WGN was going to broadcast the game again, he hurried home to catch the action. Not wanting to spoil the surprise, he did his best to avoid talking to anyone who might tell him what had already happened.
In less than an hour, Pat was sitting in his den, watching a game that had already been completed. And because he had been successful in staying away from anyone who would spoil his fun by telling him the outcome, he paced back and forth, watching his team gain the lead, then lose it, then take it again. Up and down the score of the game went. Pat’s heart was racing as he watched the action, even though most of the players were likely in their homes, sound asleep.
The game was down to two minutes on the clock—meaning it could be at least forty minutes before it would be over. The score was tied. Pat’s telephone rang and without thinking, he picked it up.
“Can you believe it?” shouted one of his colleagues. “What a great game!”
Pat slammed the phone down, angry that the suspense had been spoiled. But in a couple minutes he found himself doing something he had been unable to do before the call—sitting on his favorite oversized chair, feet up on the ottoman, something cold to drink in his hand, resting in the assurance of the outcome.
The first twenty-two verses of this psalm contain the cries of a desperate man. He’s pacing back and forth, overwhelmed with frustration over the prosperity and seeming impenetrable power of wicked men. His rage is about to get the best of him when his brooding is interrupted with the truth: “God is the strength of my heart. . . . Those far from you will certainly perish” (vv. 26–27).
Can’t you picture this man, remembering God’s victorious presence in his life, taking a deep breath, and resting in this promise?
Quit your pacing. Your God is in control. Heaven rules. What you are seeing is not live action. The game has been over since before the beginning of time.