Big Red and Shekinah Glory

 

But if ye shall at all turn from following me, ye or your children, and will not keep my commandments and my statutes which I have set before you, but go and serve other gods, and worship them:

Then will I cut off Israel out of the land which I have given them; and this house, which I have hallowed for my name, will I cast out of my sight, and Israel shall be a proverb and a byword among all people:

And at this house, which is high, every one that passeth by it shall be astonished, and shall hiss; and they shall say, Why hath the Lord done thus unto this land, and to this house?

And they shall answer, Because they forsook the Lord their God. . . .

— 1 Kings 9:6-9a

             

            Several years ago, after the much-beloved and famously Christian football coach, Tom Osborne, retired from the University of Nebraska-Lincoln football dynasty, we went down for a preseason pep rally at Memorial Stadium. They were unveiling some improvements: new seating and skyboxes, enormous video screens, and lots more.

 

            The fireworks were breathtaking. The new sound system was deafening. There were speeches and music and cheerleaders. . .

 

            . . . but for a brief and private moment, I had one of the weirdest experiences of my life.

 

            I sat there, unable to move, as if pinned down. My heart pounded with a strange mixture of fear and disgust. It was as if I was transported in time all the way back to the Roman Empire, with gladiators and Christians and lions in that stadium, instead of football players and yard markers and the tuba section. It was eerie and very scary. The more the crowd roared, the sicker I felt.

 

            Suddenly, silently, a voice sounded in my heart:

 

            "I'm not in this place."

 

            Poof! The sensation vanished, and I was back to the pep rally.

 

            Man, I thought. That bratwurst must've have been REALLY bad!

 

            But since then, I've become more familiar with that "still, small voice," have learned a few things in Bible study, and have seen our beloved Cornhusker football team more or less fall apart. I think I know what is wrong:

 

            We've lost the Shekinah Glory. God is gone from Husker football. He can't honor it . . . because it doesn't honor Him.

 

            The Shekinah Glory is the mystical manifestation of the presence of God. Remember the tall cloud by day and pillar of fire by night that accompanied the Israelites during the Exodus? That was the Shekinah Glory. It was present in the Ark of the Covenant, and when Solomon rebuilt the Temple. Ever since Jesus went back up to heaven, a little flicker of it is said to remain in every Christian heart, where God dwells now.

 

            When our football team and athletic department were under Tom Osborne, we were operating within that phenomenon. I'm not saying we were practicing religion; far from it. We just did things God's way. We played great, but players, coaches and fans were all pretty nice and pretty humble. Our teams won national championships, but the fans felt as though their arms were around those trophies, too.

 

            But those days are over. Why?

 

            Because God will only let the Shekinah Glory be in a place that follows His ways and is humble and receptive. He doesn't let it stay very long in a place after a certain level of corruption from His precepts has been allowed to creep in. After a certain point, boom! He leaves, and He takes His glory with Him.

 

            Once that glory is gone, MAN! It's gone. You've never really known the meaning of the word "desolation" 'til you've had the Shekinah Glory, known what it was like . . . and then let it get away.

 

            That's what we're going through now. That's the only explanation I can come up with for why we could be No. 1 for three seasons in the 1990s . . . and rank near the very bottom of all college football in some categories today.

 

            Since Osborne and his longtime assistants have left, and we've gotten a new athletic director and mostly a new athletic staff, the God-honoring foundation of Nebraska football has mostly waned. The focus used to be on character and honor; now it's often pride and ego.

 

            Time after time, people's feelings have been hurt, and justifiably so, in dealings with the athletic department. Good players and loyal staffers have quit. Grassroots fans feel slighted. Our football program has gradually turned away from the old ways, the old people and the old landmarks, including, significantly, a reverence for God and an overriding spirit of humility.

 

            No more best-fans-in-college-football; now we have booing in the stands, an unbelievable change of atmosphere.

 

            No more solid, pound-it-at-'em running game; now we have the slippery, pass-happy West Coast Offense; it doesn't work and will never fit.

 

            No more prayer huddles at game's end with almost every player and coach involved, and many from the other team; now we have a lot of infighting, a lack of leadership, numbness, and very little evidence of the first rule of sportsmanship, the Golden Rule.

 

            Even the words in the school song, ". . . we'll all stick together in all kinds of weather," don't seem to ring true any more, as the program implodes and the fickle finger of blame points in all directions.

 

            This past weekend, as the Huskers got clobbered 45-14 by Oklahoma State, a foe we beat every year for decades, I saw the terribly disheartened coaches and players, who say they don't know how to fix things. I saw the disappointed, dwindling crowds in the stadium. I listened to broken-hearted fans on post-game radio shows and read their often-bitter and angry words on Internet chat lists.

 

            And I remembered that weird moment in the stadium. That was no bratwurst. That was the living God.

 

            We've lost the Shekinah Glory. But we can get it back. We should go back to the basics: blocking, tackling, and honoring God with the spiritual discipline He requires in order to give His blessing:

 

            1. Buy out the contract of the athletic director; he'll leave with more money than most of us will ever see. News flash: that happened, today. It's a good thing.

 

            2. Hire Tom Osborne as Athletic Director Emeritus for three years or so and let him decide whether to keep the coach, or hire a new one. I'm not saying he's Moses or some kind of a saint. He's just the perfect one for this job.

 

            3. Let Osborne hire a couple of Husker bluebloods as his assistants, who have good records as business managers and are respected and trusted statewide. First among those would be our good friend, former Husker quarterback Steve Runty of Elkhorn, and a family friend who recently resigned as an associate AD, former Husker baseball great Paul Myers. Under Osborne's mentorship, one of them or someone like them will emerge as the permanent AD. And we'll be set.

 

            Get the people in place who'll do what it takes, with grace and humility. It won't be hard. It'll be a joy. Doing things God's way always is.

 

            And we'll all reap the benefits . . . especially the young men who come to school here and just want to play football for Nebraska -- have that mean what it used to mean.

 

            That's how we can restore the order.

 

            That's how we can get the Shekinah Glory back.

 

            It'll be sooooo much better than a bratwurst.

 

            GO BIG RED! †