That word – “sissy” – it was a fighting word when I was a boy. You could hardly find a term that was more insulting to a twelve-year-old boy than “sissy.” In my day, to be called a sissy was the quickest way to start a fight. If you wanted to prove your approaching manhood, you had to be rid of that term “sissy”. You did not play “jacks” or hopscotch or you might hear that hated word – sissy. Those games were for girls.
On my first day in college some friends were showing me around the campus. When we got to the gymnasium I couldn’t believe my eyes. There were guys in the gym who were playing “badminton.” The “guys” were not sissies by any means, but they were playing that sissy game, badminton. You know, the little “birdie” and a miniature tennis racquet. What a shock!
I had seen girls playing it in their back yard, and “badminton” was a game for girls, not guys. I put that memory aside for at least a year, but in one of my Physical Ed. classes during my sophomore year I was told we had to learn to play the game of “badminton.” I assumed it was a game I would teach to the girls in Gym classes in Junior High School when I got a job as a coach.
So…I bit my tongue, picked up a “racquet,” and went out on the court. We did not play on a grass court outdoors, like the girls back home, but in that same gym where I had played basketball and other “manly” games. I was a bit concerned about my reputation, and I just knew someone was going to call me a “sissy.” To my surprise, my opponent that day was the school’s best athlete. Now I was immediately confused, but I just decided to do what I had to do.
Boy, were my eyes opened that day. It did not take long for me to discover that I was not ready to play this game. It was the most exhausting game I had ever played. I ran from one side of the court to the other and lost my first game by fifteen points. It did not get any better, either. For the next entire semester I played three days a week and was informed that badminton was regarded, at least at that time, as one of the five “most strenuous” games for men. And no, it was not a game for sissies.
Some see being a Christian like I saw badminton. Something for sissies, for those who can’t do anything else. It could only be for softies and “little old ladies in tennis shoes.” You know by now that being a Christian will take every ounce of your strength and more of your resolve than most of the pastimes so common to men or women. It takes a degree of pure dedication that requires strength of body and character, courage and skills.
When you decide to be a “real” Christian, you will make it the most important part of your life, not just something for an hour or two a week. You will find it to be exhausting, thrilling, filled with challenges never before considered or experienced. As we have already discovered, being a Christian is “not for sissies”!
The first time I saw the badminton racquet was when I made my first mistake. It was small and fragile, unlike a baseball bat. Some people look at a Bible and conclude – as one young man said to me a few years ago, “A life founded upon an old, limp, leather-bound book is not for me!” Examining that frail looking racquet gave me similar thoughts, but when put to play, it became an instrument of skill. Just so with a Bible. Yes, it may be in an “old, limp leather-bound book,” but it can become an instrument of true strength and courage. In fact, it is
“the power of God unto salvation to everyone that believeth…therein is the righteousness of God revealed,” Romans 1:16.
No, it’s not for sissies, nor is it for those who are just looking for a momentary charge of adrenalin. A Christian will persevere, will not quit or back away from the task ahead. A Christian is in the “game” for keeps, going until the whistle blows. No time outs!
No, being a Christian is not like hopscotch or jacks. It is for those who love God, serve others and look forward to the day when Christ returns. And remember to “bring your sack lunch”, for it is definitely
not for sissies!
