In sport, a utility player is one who can play several positions competently, a sort of jack of all trades. Sports in which the term is often used include football, baseball, rugby union, rugby league, water polo, softball and track.
We notice those who rise to the top – but often miss those who are playing a decent game in the relative shadows.
We admire the superstars – but easily forget those whose presence enables the stars to shine.
The teams and individuals who play in events like the World Cup are there as a result of a heady mix of years of hard work, patient honing natural gifts and talents, happy coincidences of being in the right place at the right time and noticed by the right people, playing the best game of their lives as the scout was watching, listening to advice, getting away with things they shouldn’t have sometimes…
Most of us who play football do so as a hobby, as an ever-increasing necessity to get/keep fit, as a chance to unwind and catch up with friends.
We notice the superstars.
Every scratch game, every amateur Sunday League team, every scruffy game of 5-a-side has one or two players who stand out from the crowd. They are faster, their ball-control skills more reliable, their tricks come off, their shots almost always end up with a goal scored.
But they can’t play without the rest of us – even those who make it to the top.
One player does not make a team – a game needs a minimum number of players on the pitch to be viable.
Then there are the ‘utility players’ – a, perhaps, dying breed of player who may not excel especially at any one role, but who can ‘make do’ if needed, and are an asset to any manager.
Then there are the subs – who may sit on the bench every week without kicking a ball in anger – but who need to show up in case an injury or tactical change requires them to swing into action.
And the squad players – who may look at the subs in envy, as every week their name doesn’t make it to the team sheet – but who train and practice with those who play every week.
And there is the back-room staff – the coaches, physios, psychologists and nutritionists, medical staff and chaplains, catering team, groundsmen and laundry staff.
…
For those of us with a faith, pursuing our God has parallels here. In any area of ministry and work, there are those who rise to the ‘top’ – through a mixture of talent, timing and ‘x’.
And there are those of us who don’t.
But we are all called to be part of the great crowd encouraging others pursue their own calling. The superstars need to turn up to support, encourage and train the ones who can barely tie their laces together, let alone kick a ball.
I’ve spent my career as – I think – a combination of sometimes-useful utility player and rarely-called-up squad player. I’ve had my moments, perhaps even spent some game time on the pitch, but most of the time I’ve watched from the side-lines – hoping I can support if needed.
Wrestling with a ‘calling’ has made this trickier at some occasions than at others – it feels like it’s harder to discern what God may be wanting one to do if one can’t seem to make it into the starting 11… These days, I rarely make the team sheet, and even getting recognised as a member of the squad is proving harder.
Some of this is simply the result of years working under the assumption that God *must* be calling me to play in the starting 11 – all-too-often confusingly mixed with an aversion to be in the limelight.
But I am – all too slowly still – finally recognising that most of God’s favourite people (i.e. all of us!) are unlikely to see action on the pitch. Actually… make that pitches – as there are soooo many different games being played, and most of us will only recognise the game has been played after the event.
I’d like to be a superstar.
I’d hate to be a superstar.
I just hope I’m still in the right game.
Post-ordinandy 
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