Leveling The Playing Field by Melissa Fross  mfross@upci.org I’m not a very athletic person. The only sport I’ve ever truly enjoyed is volleyball, and to put it nicely, I’m not the best hitter in the world. In terms of sports, I am what you would call “athletically challenged.” I was the kid who was picked last for kick-ball, tagged first in dodge ball, and who got “on base” only if the softball happened to hit me.

My older brother Mike, on the other hand, was a pro at everything he put his mitt to. As a kid, he pitched fastballs that would cause the catcher’s hand to bruise. He’d play basketball with a pick-up team and consistently slam dunk. (I should mention here that he was always a little tall for his age.) Add to this his agility in racquetball, his prowess in football, and his inherent ability to trounce his opponents, and you can imagine that I never volunteered to play sports with him.

Inevitably, my dear brother would cajole, hound, and annoy me long enough that I would attempt to try some sport with him. Within five minutes, I was the opponent getting trounced, and most of our “games” ended in a winded forfeit from my side of the field. Even though I am naturally competitive, I was glad to give the entire realm of athletics over to his domination.

Academia, however, was a different story. Well, Mike still dominated, but I didn’t give up so easily. In fact, most of my high school activities were such that they wouldn’t even catch his interest, let alone his efforts (hence the fact that I was president of our chapter of Future Homemakers of America). Mike did things like attend national mathematics competitions and score second place in Algebra, while I won first place…in flannel board storytelling.

As you can guess, Mike’s abilities and intelligence were more than a little daunting to me while we were growing up. He consistently was “better” at everything—even in his attitude. You see, he never flaunted his accomplishments. In fact, if he knew I was writing this article, he’d ask me (politely) not to have it published. He hates attention being drawn to him.  People that know my brother now are amazed at his quiet humility, especially when they find out how intelligent he really is.

Sometimes I think of how much time I wasted competing with my brother. I now realize that he was always one of my biggest fans. To him, life isn’t a competition; it’s an adventure we are on together. It’s not my triumph and his loss that levels our playing field. The field is level already, and we’re both building upward from here.

One of the biggest injustices in which we as Christians indulge is “comparing ourselves amongst ourselves,” an act that Paul deemed unwise (II Corinthians 10:12 ). It would seem that on our way toward salvation we missed a very important part of the landscape. The ground is level at Calvary . There is no high moral ground for me to stand on while others inhabit a lowly pit. Likewise, I don’t have a right to belittle my walk with God because someone around me seems to have a closer one.

God is no respecter of persons. He loves us all.

Mike is the best example of this lesson that I know. Today, he’s a financial analyst for a well known brokerage firm, and I’m…well, I’m a secretary. But I’m okay with that. He’s happy. I’m happy. Level ground.

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