I went to Luxor this weekend, in southern Egypt, with several friends, because there are a ton of pharaonic ruins here, including the Valleyof the Kings. And yeah, the temples and tombs were great, but here's the best part.

We climbed up a mountain to get a better look at some ruins, and I looked out on some kids below us who were playing soccer barefoot onthis rocky field. "I want to play!" I squealed, and promptly bailed on the ruins to join the game. There were 10 of us, all the rest of them Egyptian boys between about 11 and 15.

In pickup games, you don't ask to join, you just jump in. I jumped in. An older boy took command: "One, two, three, four, five," he counted, naming off teams. "Wahid, etneen, talata, arbaah, khamza," I returned in Arabic, and earned a grin, and we were off. Now I am not a brilliant player, friends, but I know how to exploit an opponent's weakness, which is that when I walk on the field, and I am smaller than everyone but the youngest kids, and a girl, and an American, I know they have no expectations. If I can make a few strong moves before they decide I'm worth marking up on, maybe score a goal or make an assist, I've made an impact on the game.

I played for about 45 minutes, in the heat of the day. At the end, Iwas slick with sweat, my hair had fallen out of my ponytail and wassticking to my neck, my face was that dark red color that used toalarm Mom when I played as a kid; my feet were cracked and bleeding from playing barefoot on rocks and I was covered in dust and I had a scrape all the way down my elbow from getting knocked down just as I made a sweet cross to center (I tucked and rolled to my feet like Ilearned as a kid, Daddy). And I had scored twice and had one assist. When I left, they called out, "Good soccer, madam, good soccer!""Good soccer, shebab (young ones)!" I called back. "Masr kwaiis!"(Egypt is great!") They cheered in return, "Amrika kwaiis! Welcome to Masr!"

Sometimes you get a moment of pure grace. I got 45 of them today. We cheered when we did well, we cracked on each other when someone juked or got juked, and we high-fived after goals. Pure love of this game that we have all played since we were knee-high to the ball was more important than where we came from or what language we spoke. It is one of the things I love best about sport: the team, the community, is more important than the differences between its members. These kids have probably heard some things said about women and about Americans that I would find deplorable, and when I am honest, I have ideas about Middle Eastern teens that I'm not proud of. But today, we were just teammates. I laughed when I set up the youngest kid for a goal and he jumped into my arms, I almost got teary when I scored and one of the older kids on the other team nodded with respect and said "Nice soccer, madam, good soccer," and for a minute we were all better than we usually are. As the old lady said during the Montgomery bus boycott, "My feets is tired, but my soul is at rest."

Frederich Buechner, by way of my friend Linc Ashby, says the gospel should make you laugh, make you cry, and make you believe impossible things, like a fairy tale. Today I saw the gospel on a dusty soccer field in Egypt. And friends, it really is good news.

I am not a sentimentalist who believes these moments are all it takes to create global peace and affirm the humanity of all mankind. I just believe in naming things when we see them; and we spend so much time naming the bad. We must remember also to name the good and true and holy, the perfect moments, the moments of grace, to celebrate and commemorate when we catch a glimpse of the way things should be.

To those of you who are my compatriots, happy Independence Day as we celebrate 230 years of fumbling and striving for liberty. For my friend who has just celebrated a landmark in his own country's liberation movement in June, blessings as we all seek a more just and honest world. And to all of us who are citizens of the Kingdom of God, as Paul writes, and know our allegiance is not to a country but to a King and a Kingdom of peace and justice, may we all continue to live into the grace and liberty of God. Grace grows in unlikely places if we have eyes to see it.