This morning, I had an opportunity to reminisce about my childhood days, when we played outside all day—literally. We played all kinds of games, and we danced, sang, and giggled all day long, too. Oh, those really were the days! I thought about the team sports in which we competed, including baseball, kickball, and our world-famous relay races. (Okay, they weren’t actually world famous, but at the time, we thought they were.)
The team captains were usually the most athletic in the bunch. There was such a feeling of respect when you were the team captain, but there was also a sense of pride in being the team captain’s first pick. As opposing captains selected their teammates one after the other, the process sometimes became painful as the captains reached the last pick for each team. Awkwardness grew when the first team captain (admittedly, sometimes me) would apologetically get to their last pick, and the other captain would, by default, receive the least athletic kid on their team. Sometimes the process was brutal.
To anyone who endured that experience as the last choice, forgive me if I’ve brought up a painful memory. I painted that particular picture because we often choose God that way—dead last. We go to every option before it even occurs to us to seek Him. I’m not sure if we even realize it throughout an ordinary day, but we choose Him last quite often.
The Manna Chef 