If you've never had a chance to go to an SEC college football game, I highly recommend it. It's not just a game; it's a culture. And it's a blast.

It took me a long time to get into the whole college football environment, which is tough to do growing up in the South. Shortly after I graduated from college, though, I finally did take in my first University of Georgia football game. And I've been hooked ever since.

It was October of 2008. Some friends and I decided to meet up in Baton Rouge for the UGA/LSU game. It was a weekend that took over a year to plan and I very nearly had to sell some vital organs just to get a ticket, but eventually everything came together. Three of us went – two of us being "Dawg" fans and the other misguided soul being an LSU fan. We're still praying for him. (He asked me to remind the readers of this article that LSU has won two national football championships since 2003. And if he's reading this, I'd like to let him know that he owes me lunch or something for putting that in this article.)

Anyways, although this was not my first game, it was the first game I'd been to where my team was the visitor. And I was a little uncertain as to what kind of treatment I was going to get from the home team fans.

Game day came and I made sure to put on my Georgia shirt and hat and prayed that I would live and that UGA would win. It didn't take long for the heckling to start. In fact, I'm pretty sure I remember the parking attendant threatening to move our call while we were at the game. We laughed but made note of her description just in case we needed it for the cops later.

From there we started walking towards the stadium and into the sea of tailgaters that stretched as far as we could see. That is one of the most impressive things you'll see at one of these games. The stadiums hold 90,000-100,000 (or more in some places), but then you've got the thousands who come to just tailgate and watch the game on TV from the grounds surrounding the stadium. And they're not "roughing it"; if you've never seen a tailgate set-up, let me tell you, it's impressive.

We made our way past the stadium and towards the part of campus where most of the people were. As we passed each tent we received a number of jeering calls regarding our obvious Georgia allegiance. The insult of choice was clearly being called "tiger bait!"

But a strange realization hit me as we "walked the gauntlet." This was actually fun and, as strange as this sounds, a warm welcome. Because after each insult was hurled, the person would usually flash a smile and we would just laugh back, both actions letting the other side know that we were all just having fun.

And then probably the biggest surprise came towards the end of our walk, when one LSU family invited us over to their tent. They offered us as much food as we wanted, and we stood there we had a great time talking with them about the upcoming game and the South. I walked away from that day very impressed with that family, and with the fans as a whole.

* * *

Between the work of my parents and the jobs I've had myself, I've basically spent my whole life in a ministry environment. Many times it's been fulfilling and inspiring, but too often it's been disillusioning.

My dad has put his life on the line in the world's most hostile settings so he can talk about the gospel. My dad has devoted his life to his calling, and he has never compromised or watered down the defense of the Christian faith.

But for our family, life in the ministry has come with a high price. It's a calling from God, yes, but that doesn't mean it's been an easy path. My mom has missed her husband all the days he's had to travel. My sisters and I have missed our dad. And my dad has missed us.

Adding to the difficulty are the times when we've seen people attack him. And it's not the attacks from the atheist or the skeptic that have cut so deeply, it's been the attacks from other Christians. And why have they hurled insults and accusations at him? Because some person somewhere thinks he should have said something differently or thinks he should have beaten the audience over the head with the Bible instead of talking about the message inside it.

The sense of betrayal in those moments has been hard to take, and I know I'm not alone. I've witnessed it done to others many times, and most of us out there can tell stories of hurt that's come not from outside the Christian circle, but from within.

* * *

As I enjoyed the company of my friends, old and new, on the LSU campus that day, two thoughts came to mind. The first was this: Why doesn't the Christian community feel more like that family in Baton Rouge?

We may have been hoping for different outcomes to the game, but we were adopted as friends because of our common passion for the bigger picture, which was on that day SEC football.

The second thought I had that day was this: Look at what I would have missed out on if I had stayed home and just watched the game on TV.

Frustrations have often made it easy to become very cynical. But if I let it cause me to back away and just watch from afar, I would cause myself to miss out on something that God designed to be very special.

That family didn't have to invite us in to their tailgate party. And we didn't have to accept. But they did and we did. We didn't shy away from our different opinions, but neither did we consider each other the enemy because of any past or present game. Instead, we became instant friends because of the big picture.

Being a Christian doesn't mean I won't be hurt. And sadly it doesn't mean I won't end up hurting others myself. But under the shade of a purple and yellow LSU tent, God creatively illustrated to me that He has given us the gift of a common bond that should overpower the impact of disagreement and disillusion: It's Him.

Oh, by the way, Georgia won.