Some people crave fame – others have it thrust upon them.

When all goes well it can be quite a thrill.  Those gold medal winners at the Olympics seem happy enough to take the applause on the podium, to be interviewed for TV news, to be recognised and feted.

Just for a moment I wondered about taking up cycling – but I’m not sure I’m quite in the Wiggins league.  And, apparently, you have to train a bit here and there.

Perhaps Rowan Atkinson is more of a role model for me.  I think I might just be able to give him a run for his money along the beach.

But I wonder what it is like to be famous when things don’t go to plan.

You fall off the beam (which must hurt far more than your pride), your dive enters the water at 45 degrees, you drop the baton for your team.

What then?  You can’t hide from your absence on the podium, from the TV interviewer and from being recognised every time you walk down St Peter’s Street as the one who mucked it up.

I guess I’ll stick with not being famous, thank you.

Yet, as a Christian, I follow a famous leader who appeared to fail – spectacularly, in full view of everyone, in an agonising death.

He was someone who said that the first will be last and the least will be greatest.  I’m not sure how that works out at the Olympics.

He taught that we all fail, miserably, to live up to the standard required.  But then he took our failure on himself.

The TV interviewer couldn’t make it out.

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