My stack of poker chips sat there in front of me, scowling. I had disappointed them, I think, using them like a holiday trailer full of cheap harlots- to be enjoyed, yes, then quickly disposed of. I’m under no illusions that they left for any other reason. I had behaved shamefully and treated them poorly.
Troy spoke from far away behind his own stack, his eyes just visible over the top of the largest denominations. They aren’t scowling, he said, they’re smiling. I looked at him quizzically. Because they’re coming home to daddy, he answered, and his eyes got that twinkle.
I chuckled way down deep in my heart, and wanted to punch him in the face.
Playing cards with the boys during our annual motorbike trip is cheap fun, and for entertainment purposes only. (Troy will be able to entertain his wife and son to a half dozen donuts thanks to me.) I tend to play loose and reckless, trusting a gut feeling that often has more to do with an assortment of snacks and beverages than the cards on the table.
So anyway, there I sat financing my friends’ fun, and I thought of how often I use the very same strategy in real life. The stakes are higher of course, but I tend not to dwell on that. My opponent is wiser, understands the odds, and knows when I’m bluffing. I still play loose and reckless. It’s rarely turns out well for yours truly.
Whatever lessons I’ve learned from poker, what amazes me is how long I spent thinking I was playing against God. He was there to destroy me, I thought. I felt like I was losing everything and it was all still just a game to him. Hand after hand, my debts piled up at just about the same rate as my desperation.
But it was never God I was playing against. God is the one who paid everything he owned to buy into the very game I was so proficiently losing.
Don’t forget it: Jesus sat down at your table and played your losing hand so that you could walk away. If you knew what it cost him, you wouldn’t be walking around trying to find another game.
