Jim

Earlier this week, local media broke the news that Colts owner Jim Irsay had died. 

It seems a little strange to talk about him in this space, since I never actually met the guy. Not in person. But Jim Irsay changed my life - and my philosophy - in ways that he didn't even know. 

More than a decade ago, Jim Irsay was the reason that I joined Twitter. I saw a story on the televised news that Jim was giving away his money on Twitter; all you had to do was tweet back to enter to win. And in a season when I didn't have a job, my resources were dwindling, and I didn't know what was going to happen to me, this became my new financial life plan: I was going to stalk Twitter and win some of Jim Irsay's money, and that was going to help me get through the rough stretch. 

He was only giving away a thousand or few dollars at a time, but to someone in my position, that felt like a months-long lifeline. I would watch for his posts, enter to win, count the comments, do the math, run the stats in my head, and hang on to that very small chance that I might actually win like it was the greatest hope in all the world. As difficult as it would be to be the one selected by random hat pick, it was enough hope to keep me from despairing. I honestly believed that at any moment, my circumstance was going to change, that it was going to be my day, that God - and Jim - were going to bless me with exactly what I needed. 

And they did. 

They gave me hope. 

It was slim hope, but it wasn't false hope. Jim was actually giving away that money. Someone was actually winning. Some average Joe off the street was having their life changed and blessed by something that was actually happening, and I had just as good a chance as anyone at being the recipient of it. 

No, it wasn't a great chance. No, it wasn't a sound financial plan. No, it wasn't a long-term solution to my short-term problem. But in a season in which the world was slamming doors in my face left and right, when employers refused to give me a chance because I was either over-educated or under-experienced for them, when my health (undiagnosed chronic condition) was still a barrier to my success, when I couldn't buy toilet paper and dish soap on the same week and still have any funds left over for actual food, when I was at rock bottom and could hear nothing but the sound of those slamming doors, the generosity of Jim Irsay kept at least one little door cracked open just a little bit for me. And on top of that, the very real truth that I was fundamentally no different than anyone else in the world and had just as much of a chance of...winning. 

Winning something. Winning anything. Being the one picked. 

It's a reminder to me to keep the door open for others. You never know what someone is going through, what kind of season they are having. You never know what slim glimmer of opportunity that they're looking for in you, what reassurance, what hope. You never know what a boost it might be to their soul if you hold out for them that something is possible, whatever that something is. If you give them just as much of a chance to win in this world as anyone else would have. 

I want to be the reason someone believes. I want to be the reason they keep holding on. I want to be the absolutely crazy, doesn't-make-any-sense, really poor plan for the future that someone just can't let go of. 

And I want it to be because of my rock-solid faith in the God who loves me. And them. 

Thank you, Jim, for keeping me going in a rough season. Rest well, sir. You have earned it. 

*I never won a single penny from Jim Irsay. In the end, that didn't matter. I got the greater gift.