Although I began writing this message about five weeks ago, for some reason the timing was not right, but as a believer of God’s perfect timing, I am certain this particular message is meant to resonate with someone today, at this very moment.
If someone is trying to remember my name for the first time, it is not uncommon for them to respond with, oh like David and Goliath, or the popular Claymation show of the 60’s, Davie and Goliath (a young lad and his talking dog) that faced life’s dilemmas gleefully together. In fact, there is a gentleman I see ever so often, and as I converse with him, he shares how he is feeling, and talks about friends, and family. Upon my departure, as I turn away, I can always hear him say, David and Goliath, three or four times as a way of recalling my name. It is humbling of course, as I cannot
help but smile.
It was a glorious day, the highlight of fourth grade. Much more important, at least to me, than reading, writing, and rithmetic (that is with a "r" not an "a"), it
was time for recess. A period in school exclusively designed for me, the king of kickball. Oh yes indeed, I was good, and could boogie and glide around
the bases like nobody's business. Nope, not the Flash, I was faster. I was just shy of five feet and weighed just a tidbit shy of one hundred pounds, or
as my dad would refer to as, bee’s knees and mosquito knuckles. I had a squeaky, high-pitched voice, and had not reached adolescence. It was the age in
school at which girls reached their growth spirt and were much taller than most boys (especially me). I had a liking for a girl named Kimberly Cooper, who was head and shoulders taller than me, by six inches or more, as well as the rest of the class. It was my turn. I was up and backed away from the plate ever so slightly to get the right trajectory (no that word was not part of my vocabulary back then), to launch the ball deep into the outfield, ready to Cadillac around the bases as the result of a home run. The pitch was on the way (no back spins we are allowed), as I cha-cha’d my steps to get the perfect launch, and boom the ball shot into space like a rocket. I rounded first base with ease, and straightway headed towards second. Suddenly, Pow, I got hit in the head with the ball. Theoretically, I should not have been out, because the rules specifically forbid head shots. As I looked around, I was shocked, it was her. She did it. She and all the others began to laugh hysterically at my expense, like Goliath and the Philistine Army in the valley. I was not hurt, other than the familiar sound the red ball makes, “ping,” as it struck my face. However, my pride was. I told her, as the entire playground continued to laugh, it was not funny, but she continued to snicker and chuckle, like Mutely, that much more. My friends did not help, as they egged on the situation by saying, Oooo, she blew you up, and said what are you going to do? I suppose, like David, I said withing myself who is this Philistine, this giant of a girl, which would dare mock me, the King of Kickball. Suddenly, the scuffle was on, as we rolled around, in the grass and dirt. I do not recall much afterwards; I think I was the victor. I was dirty, my hair full
of grass, my tough-skin jeans with the built in knee patches were now grass stained, and my pristine white, well manicured Pro-keds, were now
scuffed and needed to be bleached. Yes, the giant mocked me, and it was necessary for me to immediately respond (no I did not pray before). I did not
want to be to continuously and mercilessly mocked as the armies of Israel in the valley of Elah.
Today’s episode is titled.
Facing Goliath
1 Samuel 17:4-11
4 A champion named Goliath, who was from Gath, came out of the Philistine camp. His height was six cubits and a span.
