I want to be a loser.

I really do.

I was thinking this morning how caught up everyone is in winning and losing. Me, too. Caught up in assessing my own performance, comparing myself to others, etc. Even in spiritual things. Perhaps especially in spiritual things.

Being "spiritual" can sometimes mean transferring our lifelong obsessive concern for coming out on top over to matters of the spirit. Winning the game of being "a good Christian." Or, if you're charismatic, being "anointed." Someone somewhere designed the game (I think I know who!), and we play it to win and call that "being spiritual."

The thing about this game is, it leads to various bipolar syndromes. At any given time we're either winning or losing, and thus either happy or dejected. Either proud (oh, how proud we can be of "spiritual" accomplishments), or dispirited.

Another thing: why is it we so like to observe people winning and losing at various games? How much energy and emotion (not to mention cash) do we pore into the observation of people winning and losing? It fascinates us. We get a vicarious thrill. Afterward we discuss "the game" among our friends, pronouncing who is great and who sucks. It feels very good to do that. We posture as "authorities" in the game. It helps us feel like winners ourselves, this judging and assessing. Ah, the game around the game. The great game surrounding the little game. Even the Soccer World Cup is not so big a tournament as this game that goes on among its "fans" before and after.

But of course Jesus would have us know that all this gamesmanship is based on a false conception of winning and losing. Nevertheless, it's one we imbibed with our mother's milk, a habit that's hard to kick. We apply the winner/loser template to nearly everything we do. It's our mental grid, our "worldview."

In the ninth chapter of Luke Jesus says, "Let these words sink into your ears: The Son of Man is about to be delivered into the hands of men." Hmmm, that's interesting. Jesus seems to be telling them that he is about to lose. Big time. It's so beyond the mental worldview of the apostles, that they simply disregard it. It doesn't "fit," therefore they do not let it sink into their ears. Instead, just moments afterward, verse 46 tells us,

An argument arose among them as to which of them was the greatest.

What the apostles are going to have to learn, and will learn (all but Judas, I suppose), is that the world's categories of winning and losing are complete lies. Forget about them. Jesus actually spends quite a bit if time on this lesson, driving it home in many different ways. But it was a hard, hard lesson to learn.

I believe that the twin curses of our age, pride and depression, are merely psychological responses to "the game." And although the last thing we want is to be taken out of the game, dismissed from the field as one who cannot win, what we really need to do is, yes, just walk away.

Paul played the game quite well for a while. As a Pharisee, he was a real master. But later in life, recalling those days, he said this:

But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law [I would like to insert here, "the rules of the game"], but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith— that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead.

In fact, there are actually countless passages that emphasize this same point. The game is rigged. Just walk away.