As a lifelong and frustrated Oakland Raiders fan, it’s my inherent obligation to despise any and all things Denver Broncos. When they play, I just don’t want to see them lose, I want to see them lose in the most heartbreaking, cry-in-the-lockeroom, hope-their-fans-are-haunted-in-the-offseason kind of way possible. I’m sure they feel the same way about we Raider fans.

And that’s why I’m so bugged. I find myself rooting for the Broncos—or, more exactly, and like a lot of other people, for Tim Tebow.

I need delousing for just thinking of rooting for someone wearing orange and dark blue. But here I am.

By now, most know about Tebow’s impressive season filled with improbable come-from-behind wins, all while giving thanks to God—win or lose. I don’t need to rehash all that.

Yet I have one overriding thought about Tebow’s “miracle” ride, and about those who profess and presume to know that God has better things to do than watch football games and who haughtily mock Tebow with low-hanging fruit religious jokes and puns (some of them pretty funny, some just plain mean), and it’s this:

Throughout the centuries prior to the arrival of Christ, God spoke through prophets and people who were often lowly shepherds, poor farmers, the blind, the deaf, tax collectors, prostitutes and others—even His only son was born among the poorest of the poor and in a dingy manger surrounding by dirty animals. Clearly God track record of having spoken through stranger people than an NFL QB. So maybe, just maybe, He adapted and modernized His game plan at half time, recognizing that people standing on downtown street corners preaching His name weren’t exactly the right vehicles for people to accept and believe his message. But I don’t know that.

And that’s the greater point. No one should presume to know what God is thinking or doing. But we can all know this: Regardless of today’s final score, there will be one clear winner today: God and His message. With an assist by Tim Tebow.

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