I was driving up the coast last week on my way to a meeting in Goleta and I was doing what I often do, listen to music loudly! The hills were green. The ocean was a beautiful blue but had murky brown water near the crashing waves due to the recent rains. I was listening to a song I’ve heard a thousand times. The lead singer takes a deep breath, and shouts into the microphone:

 

“Victory, is such a lonely word!”

 

He shouts it again, and again, and again. He voice is exasperated. It takes a toll on him. You can hear the weariness in his voice. His energy is drained. The weight of his words have left him undone.

 

I don’t know why it struck me that morning, but I heard the lyrics in new light.

 

I think that is often how Jesus speaks to us. He takes something familiar, and he turns it on its head, confounding us, asking us to rethink, to see with new eyes, to hear with new ears.

 

I began to reflect on the line.

 

Victory is such a lonely word. I felt convicted driving. I love being right. I love proving a point. I love offering a snarky response that undermines something someone in the room has just offered. I love winning. Whether it is a theological argument, a political position, you name it, I relish winning.

 

Is there a cost to victory?

 

Isn’t the outcome often isolation and alienation? I think especially in terms of theology. We argue over all sorts of issues as the Church. We label this person a heretic and that person a fundamentalist. We label some progressives and others conservatives. We judge some as real Christians and others as phonies. All for the sake of being right. All for the sake of winning an argument. All for the sake of victory.

 

How lonely.

 

How often such victories lead to separation.

 

I’m tired of arguing with people within the Church.

 

I’m tired of the rifts. When one person wins in the church, another loses. We split. Relationships break. It’s like divorce every time. The gap between sisters and brothers widens with each so called victory.

 

I think I’m starting to hear Jesus. I think I’m starting to learn that my drive for victory is motivated from an even deeper fear, fear of losing. The Scriptures tell us that Christ’s “perfect love casts out all fear.” The Scriptures also tell us that our victory is in Christ. Not in our accomplishments, not in our theology, not in our esteem, or our prominence.

 

Our worth is wrapped up in Jesus, what he has done for us, and the life that we find in him.

 

I’m not naïve to think there aren’t arguments worth having.

 

There are separations that have occurred and will continue to occur in the Church in order to protect from theological abuse and systemic injustice. But there also the everyday petty victories and losses that cause emotional harm, relational distance, and ultimately, writing one another off.

 

Victory is such a lonely word.

 

Is it worth it to be right all the time?

 

How much self-deception must I have to think I could even possibly be right about everything?

 

At what cost does victory come?

 

 

I’m a slow learner. Thank the good Lord that we have a patient teacher in Christ.