I love camp games.
Correction… I love watching camp games. I love taking pictures and video. Especially when clumsy people [Lexi again!] are involved.
This year, at camp, they played a giant version of steal the bacon, only the “bacon” was a giant 4-way tug-of-war rope. Every camper had a number from 1-5, and when they called a number, everyone (boys and girls separate) with that number rushed in to pull.
And pull, and pull and pull.
The camp staff tried to make the teams as even as possible, but it was useless. The Red Team girls were dominant. And the Blue Team guys were dominant. Every time.
When the Red Team girls came out, it was all over for the Blue Team. I mean… these girls were monsters. They foamed at the mouth, they snarled, and they looked downright mean—like they wanted to eat the scrawny little Blue Girls.
The Red Girls came off their line like Orcs, snarling and spitting, hair flying every direction.
They would grab hold of the rope (or the Blue Girls’ hair), and would pull like maniacs. The Maniac of Gadera—you know the guy that lived in the tombs and could not be bound with ropes—would not have stood a chance against even one of these Red Girls, let alone a whole team of them. They were somehow super-human. Or, more likely, non-human.
Lexi, sadly, was not a Red Girl. She was a Blue Girl.
She had her little blue bandana strapped across her forehead, as if it would somehow help her demoralized companions. It seemed like every time Lexi’s number got called she would rush out with eager anticipation, hope that this time would be different. Oh, maybe this time she would have some of that super-(or non)-human strength.
She would face those maniacal Red Girls—those hissing, slashing, spitting and jeering Red Girls—she would pick up the rope, dig in her heels, throw her head back with all her might, let out a mighty war-whoop that would make any Samoan warrior proud, and pull with all her might.
Her grip was so tight that when she latched onto the rope, it was as if she could not let go. It was like when a kitten’s claws get stuck in your shirt, and they cannot get out.
Heels dug in or not, she would inevitably fail.
I mean fail hard.
The rope—with her kitten claws and body attached—would lunge her forward, so that her face would smack right into the grass and skid across the surface.
But she was relentless. Her little kitten claws never let go. She would get dragged across the finish line over and over again. Each time it happened, she got more and more grass and mud stains across her front, so that when she stood up it looked as if the front half of her shirt and pants were a brownish-green color.
What I appreciated most was the struggle.
Good vs. Evil. An epic, timeless battle illustrated in these two teams: Red vs. Blue.
The struggle between Good and Evil is a daily “Steal the Bacon” game in our hearts. But it is no game. It is a real-life struggle.
At least it should be.
If you are NOT struggling, struggle. If you are not struggling, it might mean that you 1) Gave up, or 2) Are about to be blindsided. Both are bad.
The Christian walk is about knowing God intimately, and letting Him be in control of your life. When HE can take over the struggle, He will get the victory. Stay in the struggle.