The experts talked about injury reports from training camp. We marked through player names on our fantasy football wish lists. And Gresham wished.
“I wish we could draft cheerleaders,” he said.
He added a wide receiver’s name to bottom of his page.
“How would they earn points?” I asked, marking through the name of a tight end with a lacerated spleen.
“I have ideas,” he answered.
It was 2001. I saw her conniving but mistook it for kindness. As I signed autographs she stood at the back of the line insisting on going last, letting fan after fan cut in front of her. “No, you go ahead. I’m not in a hurry.”
I sat at a table on the convention floor where Christian Bookseller’s Association members mixed with artists, authors and vendors of every faith-related tchotchke imaginable. She worked for a Christian bookstore chain and she was gorgeous.
My handler – a marketing guy from my record label – wandered off just as the line dwindled to one.
No one beside me to overhear her. No one behind her to cut her short.
I signed her CD. She wrote her name and number across her room key, handed it to me and offered a respite from the convention bustle. “I know how hard it is to be on all day,” she said. “So, if you want a quiet dinner away from the crowds, just let me know.”
I wasn’t certain what she was up to…but I had ideas.
SHe complimented me. She understood me. Does she actually…want…me?
A couple friends of mine have had affairs. And both have been treated badly by some Christians in the wake of their sin.
While Jesus was full of both grace and truth, His followers are sometimes filled with one or the other. There is a way to compromise neither – to love both God and people.
I think it begins with remembering my own bad ideas.
And the grace I’ve been given.
I tossed the room key in the trash can and called Becky. I told her what had happened and that it surprised me how good it had felt to be wanted. And through the phone came grace.
Followed by truth. “You need someone with you out there.”
We hired a road manager so I’d never be alone again with my ideas.
I know better. I’m no better.