I hate to lose.

This little nugget rose to the surface of my frail psyche yesterday after losing first round of a local tennis tournament. To be fair, I haven’t played for several years, and I have a well-developed dadbod, and I wasn’t sure where my tennis racquets were. But I still played and, honestly, I expected to win.

But I didn’t. I lost. I deserved it. In part, it was hard to lose because my opponent was a really nice guy. Regularly he would shout across the net, “Great shot Jon. Way to go. You’re a great player!”

Shut up jerk-face.

I wanted to hate this guy. I wanted him to lose badly—tear an ACL maybe. Nope—too far. But I wanted him to lose in the most glorious way. Why? Because I wanted to win gloriously.

Ironically, it got me thinking about my attitude towards winning in the church. We like to win too. We like big crowds, swelling songs that initiate heavenly experiences, and reputations as winners around town.

We love to be known as winners.

The rumor mill among church leaders is a well-oiled machine in cities like mine. We know which churches are growing, going, sending, and building. We see them from afar and know—deep in our fractured hearts—they are winning.

But what if our metrics of winning are wrong? Are congested auditoriums, big buildings, overcrowded parking lots, and retweets of pastoral soundbites really how we want to measure our successes?

Of course not. But we often do.

And what about the smaller churches, rural churches, or struggling churches that don’t have that metric to rely on when their emotions wane? What do they do? How can they feel like winners?

The short answer is the church is winning. Please, let’s not call ourselves winners. But the church is winning, nonetheless. We are a rescued people, previously bound for hell and destruction, yet brought out of darkness and into the wonderful light of Jesus (1 Pet. 2:9). We are given a purpose (Eph. 2:10) beyond our small ambitions. We are never alone because the gift of the One who always abides with us (John 16:7). We have power to trample on the enemy (Romans 16:20). We have gifts that supersede any natural order (1 Cor. 12-14). Our happiness is a gospel happiness. We are blessed when people hate us because of the gospel. We delight when they revile and exclude us because of Jesus (Luke 6:22). Doesn’t this sound like a people who are winning? Best of all, we win because the One who laid the foundation of the earth has promised he is building the church (Matthew 16:18).

Don’t pay too much attention to the stories of church in decline. For every blip of discouragement, there are countless stories of Jesus winning the day.

Jesus is building his church. God will be glorified. People will be rescued. Our lives will be caught up in the glorious gift of the One in whom all creation will bow and gratefully proclaim, “You win and so do we!”  

So even on days in which my frail tennis career falls apart, I rest in the promise of God’s prevailing grace.

On a side note: my opponent was a great tennis player, and immensely patient with me. God used him to display his kindness towards me in my own frailty.