It has often been said that a true test of character is what type of person you are when no one else is watching. And while I certainly believe there's truth to that, I think there's an even more true test of character:

The person you TRULY are is the person you are when you've been insulted, persecuted, or attacked. And if that's the case, then Jeremy Lin's story is less about basketball than it is about an example of faith that every Christian would do well to follow.

In case you were asleep in a cave or something during the first months of 2012, allow me to catch you up on Jeremy Lin's story in three sentences:

Lin is a Harvard-educated Asian-American who wanted to play in the NBA.

Lin was either overlooked or cut by literally every NBA team, including the one that begrudgingly gave him a contract.

Lin finally got a chance to show what he could do in a desperate attempt by a coach to save his job, and when he did, he set the world on fire with his play, sparking the New York Knicks to a winning streak and becoming a household name overnight.

There - if you needed it, you're now caught up. As it turns out, though, Lin's story was the type of real-life tale that nearly everyone could relate to. We've all failed at something we love at one time or another; we've all been pigeon-holed into a place we've never wanted to be; we've all felt like the underdog. And whether you're an unathletic Ivy Leaguer, Asian, from New York, or a fan of sports in general, Lin's story was absolutely captivating.

Of course, as we've discussed in this space before, the world is fickle. Lin's opportunity disappeared as soon as it appeared, and the player everyone was clamoring for turned into just another injured body on the bench of a mediocre team in a not-so-popular professional sports league. But it was then that the Jeremy Lin story showed its true colors.

That's because Jeremy Lin showed who he is when he's offended, insulted, and hurt. During the height of the 'Linsanity' fervor, a headline went up on ESPN.com that included a racial slur that anyone with a pulse should know is absolutely, dead wrong. The headline cost the employee responsible his job, and for all anyone knew, that was the end. But for Jeremy Lin, it was important that the man knew something: he was forgiven. Lin sat down, shared a meal with a man who had publicly humilated him on a national scale, and, most important, showed him the grace and love that his faith in Christ demands.

As impossible as it seems sometimes, Jesus taught His disciples that as often as someone sins against us, we are to forgive them. And there are no stipulations to this - we aren't just to forgive those who are truly sorry or who show us they've changed; we are just to forgive those who we want to be friends with or who who will never again hurt us. That type of forgiveness is common in even the most wicked kingdoms of men. Instead, Jesus wants us to live as citizens in a different kingdom - a better kingdom, a kingdom based on love, mercy and compassion.

For Jeremy Lin, living in that kingdom meant that he would show grace, even if it was inconvenient, difficult, or embarrassing. And it's that character, rooted in a real relationship with Jesus that is most powerful about the Jeremy Lin story. Basketball, after all, may only last a few years at best; being a real example of Christ will last an eternity.

If Jeremy Lin can do it, you can too. You can forgive; you can show grace. And if, as you read these words, someone pops in your head and you immediately say to yourself, 'anyone but him (or her),' chances are good that's precisely the person you need to forgive - even if they've never asked.

I understand that sounds  (L)insane. But hey - sometimes following Christ is. 

God has said, 'I will never fail you. I will never abandon you.' - Hebrews 13:5b

If it can happen to Peyton Manning, it can happen to you. And that means one thing: in the world's eyes, you are disposable.

Take it from someone who spent the first eighteen years of his life a little more than a half hour from downtown Indianapolis: no athlete meant more to a city than Peyton Manning. Not Albert Pujols to St. Louis; not Derek Jeter to New York; not even Michael Jordan to Chicago. For most of my childhood, the Indianapolis Colts were, at best, an afterthought, and at worst, a joke. I wasn't raised to be a Colts fan for much the same reason my friends in Missouri weren't raised to be Kansas City Royals fans; life is hard enough without having to root for a perennially terrible sports team on top of it.

But all of that changed in 1998 when the the absolutely horrendous Indianapolis Colts landed the first pick in the NFL draft, and with that pick, landed the best prospect in years: quarterback Peyton Manning out of the University of Tennessee. I didn't jump on the bandwagon, mainly because there was another new to the state of Indiana quarterback at Purdue University that was causing me to fall in love, but for those who did, they were treated to 14 years of football bliss: 12 years where the Colts won 10 games or more; 4 MVP trophies; countless records; two trips to the Super Bowl, with one trophy. The Colts had gone from a joke to a model franchise nearly overnight, and it was all due to number 18. And because of the Colts' success, the city of Indianapolis was energized, building a new stadium and even hosting this year's Super Bowl, a rare honor for a cold-weather city. Peyton Manning had put Indianapolis on the national map, and he had given the city and the state of Indiana something to be proud of for more than a decade.

And for Manning's troubles, today, the Colts cut him.

The reason is simple: Manning sustained an injury and may never be the superstar, Hall of Fame player he once was again. Of course, he might - but there's also a chance he might not. Plus there's another can't-miss, hot-shot quarterback prospect waiting for the Colts in this year's draft. So, after the best 14 sports years the city of Indianapolis has ever seen, Manning is gone - because he might not be quite as useful as he once was.

He might as well be a prized race horse with a broken leg, and the Colts may as well have taken him out back with a shotgun and put him down.

Now, I'm not expecting you to feel sorry for a millionaire athlete. Sure, he now has two choices: stop playing the game that he loves and change careers, or uproot his family, leave his home, and find another place to live in a few short months. And yes, I do, personally, think that anyone who criticized Pujols' move to Anaheim this offseason for being 'greedy,' and 'betraying' the city of St. Louis should recognize that loyalty goes both ways in sports, and teams exhibit less loyalty to their players than players ever have to their teams. But more than anything else, there's a larger point here:

In the world's eyes, you are disposable.

To the Indianapolis Colts, Peyton Manning was disposable. He was worth keeping around as long as he was at the top of his game; as long as he guaranteed them the playoffs; as long as he was 100% healthy. Like the Thomas and his train-friends, as long as he was a 'useful engine,' Manning was welcome in town. But the second he isn't (or, someone can do his job cheaper), he's gone. This is precisely the way all people are treated in this world.

How many times have we seen people give decades to a company only to be shown the door just a few short years before retirement? How many husbands have traded in their wives for a younger model once their children have been raised and are out of the house? How many friendships have ended because, after years of one side using the other, there's no more water in the well and they move on to the next? How many veterans risk everything to serve this great nation, only to return to poverty and homelessness?

That's the way the world works - if you're good enough, smart enough, and doggone it, people like you, then the world is your oyster. And the second you're not, you're yesterday's trash, thrown to the mythical place called 'away.'

And that's what makes the gospel such a beautiful thing. When Jesus was on earth, He explained that the Kingdom of God was like a flock of sheep. He is the shepherd, and we are His sheep. And we are loved, cherished and honored by the shepherd, so much so that He will gladly lay down His life for us. Therefore, no one can take us from God's hand - He loves us so dearly, whether or not we're good enough or useful, that He will stand by our side, protecting us from harm for all eternity.

That is real love. And that's the way the world is supposed to be.

Unfortunately, there's nowhere in this world that we can find love like that. To the world and its kingdoms, even someone like Peyton Manning is absolutely, utterly disposable, and that means that you better believe that you are too. So, the question is simple:

Whose hands are you in?