Remember last week I wrote about attending a match at Portman Road? Well, that week was a bit of a football based week. As I said, I hadn’t even been to the ground, let alone watched a math there, for 64 years. But I found myself there again in the Premier lounge for a meeting on the Tuesday evening and Julian was in a different hall on the Thursday evening for a quiz. His team won – the prize being some tickets to a game – so it looks like I may not have to wait 64 years before I see another game in the flesh – and he won a signed shirt in the raffle.
Honestly, I don’t get the idea of signed shirts – if children scribbled on clothes, you would tell them off, hand them some paper and soak the garment and get rid of the stains. I’ve offered to put his prize in the wash but he gets very defensive. You can’t decipher the writing – could be anybody’s signature. The message is lost.
But I’ve been told that’s not the point. It’s who wrote it – just knowing it was some player from last year’s team – possibly even Kieran himself – is enough to make it a revered object. Fibres that have passed through their hands, been in their presence, come within sneezing distance of their DNA is enough.
If we care that much about a man-made object, covered with illegible words written by a team of sportsmen that tried hard but failed, how much more should we revere the Bible – clear words from a creating, providing, unchangeable, omnipotent and all loving God.