Don’t throw Gatorade on yourself


My pastor gave a very timely message — but then, isn’t that how most sermons are for most people — timely?

He was preaching from Matthew, as he started his sermon series on pleasing an audience of one — God.

Sunday’s sermon centered around charitable giving. As my pastor talked about the importance of giving with the right attitude, my mind wandered a bit off course.

But not far. Because my preacher said something that snapped me back into attention pretty quickly.

He was saying how Jesus encourages giving, and he wasn’t necessarily talking about tithing or giving money.

Just giving in general. You are probably thinking what I did as I listened in the beginning of Dr. B’s sermon.

That maybe he was talking about helping others in need? He was, but not just people in need, but helping others even when they are not in need.

Then he said what he said that made me ask him if I could quote him in my column.

I may be paraphrasing a little bit. (And Dr. B wasn’t really trying to step on anyone’s toes, though with what I say here, it might come across that way.)

He said, “Don’t throw Gatorade on yourself.”

See, that made you snap to attention too.

Most of us have seen how a winning coach gets doused by a bucket full of Gatorade after a win.

Players, excited about their win, and knowing too that the coach would be too happy about the win to yell, celebrate by throwing the cold drink all over their coach.

After all, the players execute the plays, but the coach is the one who designs the plays.

He deserves credit and praise.

So what in the world was Dr. B talking about?

Who in the world would want to throw Gatorade on themselves?

That stuff is sticky and cold, and messy. I don’t like it very much myself, though I am told, when I was younger, it helped cure many a tummy ache.

Dr. B explained, as if he heard my thoughts. In giving, be it financially or in other ways, rewards are best to be given from others. Don’t toot your own horns.

Hence the idea, “Don’t throw Gatorade on yourself.”

Which brings me to the point of this column.

I love football. I have floated back and forth between cheering for the Georgia Bulldogs, Alabama Crimson Tide and the Texas Aggies for years … the last three years though, my heart has remained with the Aggies.

But there was a time when I just couldn’t jive with the Aggies. Think Manziel.

Johnny Manziel was truly a powerful quarterback. When he was recruited out of high school, Johnny Football was more than just a hot commodity, he proved to be a dual threat as a quarterback.

He could run, jump, pass and carry the ball with the best of them. Probably better then the rest of them. Watching him play, no matter what team you cheered for, was a real joy for any true football fan.

He brough the game to life with his execution of the plays that he was given, and it was funny but it seemed like when he hit that field, he came to life as well.

The football field was his stage, and he was Shakespeare.

But, take off the pads, take off the uniform, take him off the field, he was a typical young man in his 20s who hadn’t really had to plan his own life, think about what is ahead, get a back-up plan or even struggle.

He had parents, coaches, attorneys, and who knows who else, doing it for him?

So, why should he have behaved? Why should he not have partied? Why should he not have blown up his social media sites about his questionable escapades?

You do it. Or some of you do it – I have read it. I have done it.

But that is not the point. I don’t agree with what I saw the young man do when he was off the field, and I have to say, his taunting and trash-talking his opponents didn’t give him any brownie points with me either.

But then, I have seen worse. I have heard worse. And so have you. There is still no excuse.

I have three nephews. All three of them are married. One of them will be a dad at the end of this year.

We’re not very close.

I missed their moments of rebellion. I missed their moments of doing what is right. I missed weddings. I missed graduations. I really don’t know much.

One of them and I text occasionally. The other two – I can’t even tell you when I have spoken to them or seen them. But that is OK, just because life separates you doesn’t mean it kills that family love you have.

I really couldn’t tell you much about them other than what I remember them as being when they were under the age of 12 or from what my mom told me that she heard from their mom or what I have seen on social media

This brings me even to closer to the point of my rambling, and why I wanted to quote my preacher.

It is such a good statement. “Don’t throw Gatorade on yourself.”

One of my nephews is a CEO of his company, and from I understand, doing quite well. Another one is serving as a missionary counselor and has climbled Mt. Kilimanjaro. The third one has lived out his dream as a firefighter for a breif time, and is now a flight paramedic.

Two of them are very active on social media, and using it to help their careers and help others. The other one might share a photo or two, but that is OK.

He doesn’t have time to drink the “Gatorade” much less throw it on himself.

The best thing to do sometimes … is to just be quiet … What do you think?

Go Aggies! (c)BeckyHolland2020

Author: rlhwrites

Curator of prose and such.

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