The Exegesis of Drew Brees:
The second story of creation and salvation theology.

My friend Barbara was here representing her company, Seeds of Harvest , and we were chatting after she had swept my back porch for me. Suddenly, she said that God had taken her breath away with an intense immersion in and comprehension of Genesis 2:7. This is the verse that tells how God formed man out of the clay of the ground, "and blew into his nostrils the breath of life." Though as familiar as Adam's house cat, it has new relevance. "This is God's air, His breath, that we have in us!" she celebrated on the sofa. It seemed simple, how dirt became a living being, and yet, in an instant, a cosmic flash, I too understood the excitement! This air, that seems in short short supply some days, that sighs and comes out less often in great gusts, now...this air that used to pull noxious fumes down into my delicate lungs...comes straight from God's mouth into my nostrils.

Then man, and eventually woman, drew air into the lungs. They did it constantly, repeatedly and automatically. God renewing life with each drawn breath. I agreed with Barbara that it is splendid Scripture. I thought of all the ways we play with those words. Let me catch my breath. Out of breath. Breathe easy. In checking life, the doctor always says, "Deep breath." The night before, I had done something that was quite rare for me. I had watched an entire football game. I have long thought the sport was violent and too competitive for a world that needs cooperation. I had been dismayed by the role models offered in many sports. But, something made me watch that game. The frequent use of the word destiny, perhaps. (It is a word I cherish.) And perhaps even more, the story of Toby's son, whose last request was to have his ashes sprinkled throughout the Superdome, to help his favorite team.

My New Orleans neighbors were watching it as well. I could hear delightful swirls of sound that passed from their living room, across a small footpath, to my bedroom. Soon, I found myself letting out yelps of joy and clapping in sync with them. I even ran next door when the game went into overtime, not having enough football background to understand exactly what was happening. The flip of the coin was electric.

My friend Eric had sent me a message about the "blowing brees"--now punfully familiar to many. But soon, everywhere I looked, there was evidence that God drew Brees to New Orleans, to send a message. He was being called a saint on and off the field. In his own interview, he was describing a desire for closeness with God and sharing his faith relationship with the world. He told of his personal teenage salvation experience.

If creation is our mysterious inhale of God, then salvation must be our natural exhale of all the good within. It feels right. New Orleans has had all kinds of problems on the inhale, from fluid to fat, but they are no longer waiting to exhale. Good never looked so good. Though I know it is a team effort, there was something in that last kick. Something else, not in the football canon. I think I saw God's fingerprints all over the football. Feel the Brees.