A while ago I watched a documentary entitled The Best That Never Was. I watched it early one morning before anyone was about at my home. It has made a tremendous impact upon me. I think of it often, and I consider the depth of its themes, both intended and unintended. It’s more to me than information. It’s more to me than a story. It’s more to me than an ideal. It is an encapsulation of life as we know it.

The Best That Never Was tells a story about one of the greatest high school football players to ever play, Marcus Dupree. It is told almost 30 years removed from his incredible exploits on the fields of Philadelphia High. There is a lot of intrigue in the story; it is very compelling. However, I always come back to reflecting upon Marcus Dupree, the man, sitting for an interview for the documentary. It is a troublingly sad and tragic story about an incredible talent lost for a variety of reasons. The set of circumstances that harmed Marcus Dupree and seemed to be out of his control is enough to stir substantial indignation in those who zealously desire justice.

And as I replay the images in my mind, I return to Marcus, the man, listening to the questions related to his now former life with astounding equanimity and dispassion. The interviewer probes the troubles he had in a major college football program. I don’t remember a harsh word coming out of the mouth of Marcus Dupree about the program. The interviewer seeks to understand where the money went from the sizable contract he received from the USFL team that signed him at a young age. The documentary proceeds to share various details surrounding a man that likely received a considerable portion of that contract. You don’t have to know the details to know that young Marcus and his mother were taken for a ride. And as all this culminates, you are taken back to Marcus, the man, who honestly says that he doesn’t know what happened to the money, doesn’t really care to know and doesn’t believe it can be known. And the craziest thing is he honestly sounds like he means all of those things. There is no indignation. There is no vengeful spirit. There is not one twinge of bitterness to be found. And as I remember Marcus Dupree’s face, a very sad story, a story with virtually no redemptiveness to be found, the story begins to be strangely encouraging. I mean, it hurts to watch the film roll showing what this man once was and learn how little became of it. Marcus Dupree the athlete is now nothing more than a trivia question if he is lucky. But the man that I see is at peace with where he is. He is at peace with where he has been. He doesn’t seem to relive it often unless it is forced upon him by others. The documentary follows him as he works his job driving a truck delivering rental equipment. As he gets people to sign off on the delivery, they realize who stands before them and ask him why he is doing this. He answers rather simply, “It’s my job.”

As I dwell upon someone that I would like to call my friend, Marcus Dupree, I realize that there is a very deep theme at play here. If you don’t already know, you should know that we all are Marcus Dupree. We are all “The Best That Never Was.” Sure we were never THAT good. But we were better than we are now. And the question for us, the real test of character for us is are we truly ok with that. Are we truly at peace, where we are, as we are. I don’t think that many of us are, and I don’t think that many of us that are stay there for long. You see, we all know that we are participating in an ongoing tragedy. Our life will not last, and ultimately, it will be very soon forgotten. If someone knows your name 200 years from now you will be very, very unusual. (I would say lucky, but what does that matter to you.) And yet at the same time we are fully aware of our personal ongoing tragedy, we are all clinging to the faintest glimmer of hope that redemption will be snatched from the mouth of tragedy at the very last moment. We love to hear a great story where that very thing happens. We actually desperately need to hear a story where that very thing happens. We frequently pay money to see a movie where that very thing happens. And even though we know that it is most likely going to happen in the movie, we fear that it may not and that only adds to our pleasure when it does happen. Isn’t that a little crazy? Isn’t that counterintuitive.

The question that comes to me when I realize that these two elements exist in almost any good story is, “Why?” What is buried inside of us that wants so desperately to usurp our ongoing tragedy? Why do we need redemption? Why is the reaction (or lack thereof) of one Marcus Dupree so noteworthy? The best idea I have, one that will sound implausible to the skeptics among us, is that the way that things are is not the way that things should be. The way that things are is not the way that things were designed. And I hope, with everything within me I hope, that the way that things are is not the way that things will always be. And this hope, my hope that defies rational analysis of our existing world, is that Jesus is who he said he was. That Jesus began a redemptive work at the cross and that that redemptive work will snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. It will snatch life from the jaws of death. And so I desire to be able to wear a peaceful smile just like Marcus Dupree.