Often my sense of humor is ill-timed, like on Ash Wednesday when I was standing in line in the chapel to receive ashes. As my turn drew near, I saw Katie Murray’s ever-present smile and thought, “maybe I should ask her for a Nike swoosh instead of a cross.” Yes, I know: sacrilege of the highest order, but I had a lot of disjointed thoughts rolling around inside my head.
Just moments before that, we sang “The Old Rugged Cross,” a great old hymn I grew up singing with this refrain:
So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross,
till my trophies at last I lay down;
I will cling to the old rugged cross,
and exchange it some day for a crown.
The word “trophies” stuck in my mind through the ashes and the rest of the day because just before leaving home for Wilshire, I was having a lively text conversation with a friend about the current state of college basketball with NIL (name, image, likeness) money and the transfer portal pulling teams apart. My team is Baylor, and after winning the national championship in 2021, they’ve not done as well. This year has been dismal, primarily because nobody returned to the roster from last year. My friend, a fan of the unstoppable Houston Cougars, surmised something is “amiss” in the Baylor program for everyone to leave. I said it’s the transfer portal, NIL and the NBA draft, which feed the youthful hunger for fortune, fame, and yes, even trophies.
“The Old Rugged Cross” doesn’t define trophies, but when I was younger I thought mostly in terms of things of financial value or that at least brought prestige and attention, such as awards for good work at school or on the job. Now, as I’ve grown older, I’ve found trophies also can be those things that feed our hunger for control of who we are or who we want people to believe we are: our habits, behaviors, schedules, need to be busy, need to be seen.
Looking back at the words of the hymn, I believe it’s difficult to hold on to our trophies and cling to the cross at the same time. We really do need to let go of our trophies so our hands are free to take hold of the cross. Or at least the action needs to be simultaneous — like a scene in an action movie, where Arnold or whoever is popular today says, “Let go, I’ve got you, trust me,” and the character in peril lets go of whatever they’re holding onto and is pulled to safety.
It’s a matter of letting go of our control and trusting God’s provision in whatever we are doing and at whatever stage of life. This season of lent is a good time to lay down our trophies and take hold of the cross. So, I kept my mouth shut as Katie smiled and rubbed a cross on my forehead.