it's more than just a game

Five years ago this happened:

I was in Guatemala, playing soccer on some random field surrounded by gorgeous mountains and trees and shouts of Spanish and English as a ball was passed around. I wrote in my journal, July 10, 2008 that I had one of the best days of my life playing soccer with Guatemalans. I remember when they suggested we play "gringos vs. Guatemalans"...and we did. And I'm sure we lost miserably.

I remember that day because it was in those moments, with sweat dripping down my face, and my cheeks turning crazy red, that no one had to worry about language differences. Or cultural backgrounds. Or income disparities. It was just a bunch of people playing the beautiful game of fútbol, laughing and running hard together.

I've had more of those moments since Guatemala. I had them in Costa Rica as we played a game with my friend's host family, in San Diego when we played soccer with a group from the Hispanic church we worked with, and most recently on a Sunday in Bohnett Park on the Westside of Santa Barbara.

It's funny that I titled this post "it's more than just a game", because my sports knowledge is minimal and I'm not a sports enthusiast in the least. I do NOT like being aggressive and prefer to do sports where I don't have to touch anyone (hence, cross country and swimming were the perfect athletic endeavors for me in high school). But on that field in Guatemala, and on the fields I've played since then, I have learned that this is more than a game, it's community. It's one of the most beautiful forms of community I have ever seen take place.

On the soccer field I am white, I am la gringa. I stand out and I am much too vocal (don't take the ball from me! no, I didn't mean to pass it to you! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I hit you in the face! Are you okay? Ah the ball is coming to me-what-do-I-do-with-it?!? ..just snippets of my soccer ramblings). While there are many times where I do feel insecure by my white-ness, on the soccer field, that insecurity fades a little. I have been met by gracious hospitality -- by Latin Americans and Mexican-Americans and my own peers who play patiently with me, and smile and laugh with me, and (for some reason I'm still not sure of) pass the ball to me.

So, that Sunday as I was passing the soccer ball on a small field, surrounded by Latino families celebrating birthdays with piñatas and watching their kids on the playground, I was made more aware of Alyssa la gringa. The Alyssa who doesn't fit in exactly in this setting. Yet it's sort of a paradox because it is within this exact setting that I experience great joy and peace, and oddly enough, confidence.

On the soccer field I hear

mano! mano!
I got it!

pásele!
over here!

aquí!

Spanish, English, Spanish, English. In some way the two languages sort of blend together seamlessly and we know what the other is saying. The words give me peace and rest for some reason. They fill me with joy, and even though I'm playing in the midst of white people and not-white people, 6 year olds and 23 year olds, high school educated and PhD accredited, I feel like we're this family, laughing and sweating and running together. Our differences no longer seem so apparent.

I remember one semester Gordon's chapel theme was "The Kingdom of God is like..." We looked at the gospels and what Jesus taught about his kingdom and all the metaphors and stories he used to describe it. 

I think I saw a piece of the Kingdom on Sunday on that soccer field. I think passing that fútbol was a tangible illustration of shalom, flourishing, peace. And I think it's only the beginning of building relationships and love and trust with people who have been put on the margins within my city. We have a long way to go in being a part of this Kingdom work, but I believe I saw a glimpse of it on Sunday. And I'm eager to go back for more.