Friendship
of the kind you find in the locker rooms of childhood sports is lost in the
aged. I use to experience an
overwhelming care for the brotherhood of warriors, a group of youngsters daily
dressed out in pads to protect. There
was a common enemy, showed up every Friday night, a common purpose, to defeat
them, and a common dependency, all for one and one for all. These were not opponents in our young hearts
but enemies of our brotherhood. A battle
of strength, speed, endurance and will, a clashing of your body against theirs,
a physical brawl on the earth where someone was going to win and someone was
going to loose. There is nothing like it
in the life of the older man who, on occasion, sits and longs for admittance
back to that brotherhood of boyhood.
Would that our churches were places of rich camaraderie based around "a common enemy, . . . a common purpose, . . . and a common dependency."
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