Prayer and the Art of Tebowing

First we had planking.

Then owling, teapotting, headmanning, and batmanning. If you’re unfamiliar with these terms, let me take a second to explain.

In planking, people lie flat as a board in random places, have a friend snap a photo, and upload the picture to the net. Owling calls for the participants to squat like an owl, teapotters strike an “I’m a little teapot” pose, and batmanners hang upside down like a bat. Two people are needed to headman correctly. One, will sit, crouch, or lie in a contorted position in which his or her head is obstructed from view. The other person will do the same, but only their head is visible, leaving a photo that looks like one person’s head has been detached ala the headless horseman from the Legend of Sleepy Hollow.

And now we have … drum roll please … Tebowing, courtesy of Denver Bronco starting quarterback Tim Tebow. Tebowing is defined as “getting down on a knee and starting to pray, even if everyone else around you is doing something completely different.”

Tebow was a hugely successful college football player. He won a Heisman Trophy in 2007 and helped lead his University of Florida Gators to a pair of national championships in 2006 and 2008. He had polarizing affect on college football fans, as views of his abilities ranged from being a limited “system” quarterback to being the best collegiate player this side of Red Grange.

Tebow is also known for his strong Christian beliefs. His parents are missionaries and he does missionary work during the off-season. His post-game interviews often sound like cheery cliché-laden sermons. He talks up homeschooling and abstinence. He was featured in a pro-life commercial during the Super Bowl a few years back. And he prays. A lot. Especially during football games. Practically after every touchdown, completed pass, and trip to the Gatorade cooler. Tebow has a lot to be prayerful about. NFL gurus predicted very little success for him as a Pro QB. After playing sparingly last season and starting this season on the bench, he has taken over the QB duties for the Broncos and has led them to four wins in their last five games. (The only loss was a 45-10 smackdown at the paws of my Detroit Lions.)

And now his praying pose has launched a new internet photo fad which can be tracked at the website tebowing.com. The pictures and merchandise had me literally laughing out loud. But then I got to thinking. What if the terms "Tebowing" and "praying" suddenly became synonymous and interchangeable?

We’d have families Tebowing before dinner and children saying their bedtime Tebows. We could tell our friends who are ill that they are in our thoughts and Tebows.

Also, this could create a nice loop-hole for Christians in the separation of church and state arena. Maybe I could hang up the Lord’s Tebow in my classroom? Christian administrators, faculty members, and coaches around the country could Tebow at school without drawing a lawsuit from the ACLU.

If this fad continues, Bible publishers might have to revise their texts. Key passages would become: Tebow without ceasing (I Thess. 5:17), the Tebows of a righteous person are powerful and effective (James 5:16), and do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by Tebowing and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God (Philippians 4:6). Would a children’s picture Bible have to be changed to show Jesus Tebowing in the Garden of Gethsemane?

Of course, Jesus himself had much to say about Tebowing, er … I mean prayer. Speaking against the attention-grabbing Tebows of the self-righteous religious leaders of his day, Jesus said to Tebow in secret. “But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen …” (Matt. 5:6).

I don’t think that any Hall-of-Fame quarterbacks have to worry about Tebow breaking any of their records. He’s always been able to overcome his limitations and what he’s done the last four games is shall I say … miraculous. But his career as a starting QB is probably short-lived.

I’m certainly a fan of his and I’m glad he’s succeeding. But doesn’t a player, in any sport, praying on a knee, in front of stadium full of people kind of go against the Lord’s directive to pray in secret? Maybe after his next touchdown, Tebow could just flip the ball to the referee and pray standing up, on the sideline.

I think God will still hear him.

Party time with a Palos Verdes Peacock

During a phase of my childhood, my parents decided to channel their inner-Clampett and moved us to rural Michigan. On our sprawling ten acres we had ducks, chickens, and wild guinea hens.

My grandfather loved to come out from his home in downtown Detroit and work the land. Once I watched him take an axe to a chicken. I probably shouldn’t have, but this was the 70s, and parental control on our “farm” was a bit lax. You know that phrase, “Running around like a chicken with its head cut off”? It’s quite appropriate. I had nightmares for months.

One time, a guinea hen was busy hatching some eggs. She had a nest under a tree out past the duck pond. She was as vigilant as a guard at Gitmo and wouldn’t let a soul within 30 feet of her nest. When I decided to get a closer look and she came charging after me like the Tasmanian Devil, squawking and flapping her wings until I was safely back in the house. These are some wonderful memories, but they did nothing to prepare me for the day I went face to face with a Palos Verdes peacock.

Palos Verdes is an affluent community in the Southbay area of Los Angeles. Along with Donald Trump’s resorts there are cliff-side mansions and country style homes shrouded in eucalyptus trees and surrounded by equestrian trails. In PV, peacocks are allowed to roam free. And in some neighborhoods it is quite normal to hear their annoyingly eerie honk or see them crossing the street.

During college, some friends of mine used to let me house-sit when they went out of town. So, one hot July morning I noticed a family of peacocks in their backyard. There was a mom, a dad, and several babies. A little later I saw what I figured to be the same birds in the front yard. I then left to run an errand and when I returned I parked in the driveway with the intention of washing my car. Their garage sits on west side of their ranch-style house with the majority of the living space extending out to the east. As I pulled up I saw the father peacock and the babies scurry across the driveway, away from the house. I didn’t see the mother, but I figured she was in the lead.

My friends did not live extravagantly, but one thing I could never understand is why they couldn’t afford a screen door. Anyway, I went into the house, and which may have not been my best idea, left the front door open as I returned outside to wash my car.

Making my way back into the house after the car was washed, I discovered Mrs. Peacock waiting for me in the foyer. At first, we stood there, still as statues, facing each other like old west gunslingers. I made the first move and took a step toward her. She went backward. Behind her was the living room; a formal living room, with many breakable items. Directly behind her was a sliding screen door to a deck. She wasn’t going to let me get behind her to shoo her out the front door, but I thought that maybe if I got to the screen door, she could exit the house by way of the deck. Another bad idea.

I stepped, and she stepped, as if we were doing the tango. I dashed toward the screen and she freaked out. She took off flying around the living room like a balloon losing helium. I flew open the screen door and frantically ran around trying to save every fragile vase, picture frame, and lamp that I could. Meanwhile, Mrs. Peacock was crashing into the indoor shutters and banging her head on the ceiling.

I knew that I had to leave the room in order for her to calm down. I went into the kitchen which is immediately to the right of the front door. I prayed that she would approach the front door so I could push her out to freedom. But no, she went deeper into the house, back toward the master bedroom, from which there isn’t a door to the outside. She was at the end of a long hallway. I grabbed some bread and began tossing pieces to her, hoping to coax her back to the great outdoors. I guess peacocks don’t like bread. But she did leave a deposit on the white rug.

I decided to go out to the back deck, wishing I had a book about bird calls. As I waited, she made her way to the foyer, presumably worried about her husband and babies. She looked back at me and then calmly strolled out the front door.

It took me a long time to clean up the poop and feathers and put all the breakables back into position. I’ll never forget how that peacock looked at me. When she did, I could only offer a shrug in return. Her expression was worth a 1,000 words. It said that if she could, she’d flip me the bird.