This just in: people like sports.

I know, I know - this is hardly earth-shattering, life-altering stuff. To say that people like sports is roughly as profound as saying 'people eat food' or 'people breathe air.' The fact is, I can think of only a single person off the top of my head who doesn't like a sport of some kind, and even if you say, 'not me, Drew - I don't like sports!' I'd imagine I can find a time in your life when you cared at least enough to go to a Super Bowl party or check the paper for the score of your local high school team. In this day and age, sports are an indelible part of who we are as a society.

And, I'm not sure that's always a good thing.

Take, for example, a team that most of you reading this are more than familiar with: the St. Louis Cardinals. The Cardinals are, without a doubt, one of the premier franchises in the history of the National Pastime, and that's never been more apparent than over the last decade. Over a ten year period, the Cardinals have been a playoff team six times, five of which resulted from winning their division. And, most importantly, they've won the World Series twice - in 2011 and 2006. 

As strange as it sounds, though, the two seasons that the Cardinals won the World Series were NOT the best two Cardinal teams over that span. After all, just look at their win totals from their playoff bound years:

2004: 105

2005: 100

2002: 97

2009: 91

2011: 90

2006: 83 

The point is obvious - judging by consistent, full-season play, the two years in which the Cardinals won the World Series were the two WORST seasons among Cardinal playoff years. The irrefutable fact is that the Cardinals in 2006 and 2011 were a worse baseball team than they were in 2002, 2004, 2005 and 2009. And yet, they were crowned champions for one reason and one reason only:

In sports, consistency doesn't matter.

All that matters in sports is getting hot at the right time. This isn't just true in baseball, either; just ask the defending Super Bowl Champion New York Giants (the sixth best team in their league last season). There are too many examples of this across too many sports to count, and that's because we've collectively decided that the best way to judge a sports team is by what they do in a short period of pressure-packed time. Excellence over time is celebrated with a t-shirt and memories from die hard fans; excellence for a few weeks in October is immortalized forever with banners and prestige from the entire sports watching world.

It's no wonder, then, that the same people who celebrate short bursts of greatness over long-term consistency sometimes struggle to live out the Christian faith. Christianity, after all, is not like a playoff system where entire legacies are built one game and one at-bat at a time. Instead, following Jesus is like a 162 game season - every day, rain or shine, no matter what else is going on. It's not a sprint; it's a marathon - it's not a playoff series; it's a full season. The apostle Paul wrote, more than 25 years after his conversion, that he had yet to reach his goal. Despite two and a half decades of service to Christ - church planting and making disciples and growing personally in his relationship with God - he still wasn't done. At the core of Paul's faith was the concept of daily running the race, knowing that he wouldn't 'win' because he had a few days or a few weeks of trust in Jesus, but instead, that he would need a lifelong commitment to be where he wanted to be.

That type of excellence is simply not celebrated in our world, and if you don't believe that, you need to look no further than the St. Louis Cardinals, a team whose best years are forgotten and whose short bursts of greatness will always be remembered. That's not how you follow Jesus, however. It isn't just about momentary decisions to trust Jesus and decide to believe in what He's done; it's about waking up each day and deciding over and over again to keep believing and keep trusting, even when you know that you're not going to 'win' that particular day.

It's high time that we in the church celebrate what the sports world never will: consistent, long-lasting, committed faith. You're not finished just because you've been baptized or saved or joined a church; in fact, you're just getting started! Forgetting the past, we shouldn't live as if we've achieved anything yet. Instead, we should press on, making the choice to daily follow Jesus, moving forward towards the goal each and every day, knowing that eventually, this life will be over and the real - eternal - journey will just be beginning. And that's an attitude we should get used to.

After all, I hear eternity lasts a little longer than a few weeks in October. 

When I was a kid, there were few shows on television that drew me in more than 'Bill Nye the Science Guy.' This is a fact that isn't surprising - after all, as the son of a public school teacher and a chemist in a pharmaceutical lab, I was raised to appreciate science in a way that most kids weren't. Additionally, it was on Saturday afternoons, right before FOX Saturday Baseball, and, in a household of six people, the earlier you could plop yourself in front of the television to claim it on a weekend afternoon, the better. In my book, Bill Nye is a pretty good dude.

Also, apparently Bill Nye isn't a huge fan of those who teach their children that evolution isn't true.

As always, Bill Nye's comments have drawn the typical responses, with the battle lines between the religious and the not so much clearly drawn in the sand. And that makes me profoundly sad.

Full disclosure time: I'm not sure what I believe about the origins of mankind. I believe in God; I believe in science. And at no point in my 28 years on this planet have I ever believed those two beliefs are incongruous. The truth is, we're all just guessing - whether the world formed, as hyper-literal Christians claim, 6,000 years ago or, as mainstream geologists claim, 4.2 billion years ago, none of us were there when the earth formed. So we're all just looking at whatever evidence we can find and making the most educated guess possible. With that said, I have opinions about the beginning of everything, but considering they all begin with, 'I'm not sure, but I think...' and are hedged with, 'I could be wrong, of course...' I'm not sure they're really of any value. I find no reason I shouldn't be able to believe that Jesus is the creator of all things and not worry about exactly what the mechanics of that creation were.

None of that, however, is what makes me sad.

Jesus told His disciples that they'd be known for one thing: love. He taught them to love each other, to love God, and to love their neighbors. He even taught them to love their enemies and, when persecuted, pray for the ones who attacked them. And because of that, the early church proclaimed a very simple message of love - the story of who Jesus was, what He had done, and what He wanted to do next. They called that message the 'gospel,' and were willing to suffer, bleed and die for that good news.

The fact is, the gospel is outrageous. It demands scrutiny and well-thought out study to support, and it demands radical sacrifice, introspection, and commitment to live. Without any other periphery issue, the gospel - and the gospel alone - was enough to earn the early church persecution the likes of which we in America have never dreamed of.

Which is why, I think, we don't see the early church engaging in debates about side-issues. Because they were so busy promoting the gospel, they didn't have time to worry about anything else, and as a result, we don't see arguments or controversies about anything BUT the gospel in the early church. 

What makes me sad is that today, we've lost that passion for the gospel. And because of that, we have all the time in the world to argue about evolution and gay marriage and political party agendas and denominational theologies and a million other things. And as a result, the disciples of Christ today aren't known for their love; they're known for their desire to prove themselves right and everyone else wrong. 

Bill Nye's comments (as well as the viewpoints of countless others who believe what he believes) shouldn't be seen as an opportunity to win an argument or prove why we have all the answers to all of life's deep questions. Instead, it's time we acted a little less like mainstream Christianity and a little more like the ancient bride of Christ, and saw this as an opportunity to show love, grace, and understanding to those who don't see eye to eye with us. If we do that, we'll be choosing a path that Jesus said His followers would be known for, more than anything else.

We'll be choosing the gospel.