“Well, beat the drum, and hold the phone, the sun came out today.
We’re born again, there’s new grass on the field.” John Fogerty
If you know me well, you know how much I love baseball. When I was a kid, I would leave my house at 9:30 in the morning during the summer (I would have left earlier but my mother said 9:30 was early enough), ride my bike over to Bill Siedler’s house, and Bill, his brother Bobby, and I would play baseball in their backyard until dark. Yes, we took breaks to eat. Sure, others would join us sometimes, or we would join them for awhile (the Woehr brothers, who lived next door to the Siedlers, seemed to always bring Danny's pet rats outside during a game we were playing), but mostly it was just us. Many nights, we would try to get that last inning in before it was too dark to see the ball. My childhood memories of summer are surrounded by baseball. When I did stay home, the nights were filled with the voices of Marty and Joe and their tales of heroes and villains clothed in uniforms of white and gray. Even now, baseball captures my imagination, and teaches me a lot about how life, and yes, how faith, work.
People can approach their lives like baseball fans do, and watching the behavior of fans gives an example. Yankee fans expect to have the world on a platter. With 20-something World Series championships, anything less than winning the World Series is a disappointment. Then there are Cub fans (Red Sox fans used to be like this, too, but they have won 2 World Series since 2004, so it’s different now). Cub fans, no matter how good their team is (and lately, they’ve really been very good), are always looking for disaster to strike. That will happen when it’s been over 100 years since your team has won it all. In ’69, the Mets stole their miracle after the black cat ran around in front of their dugout. In ’03, they were so close to the World Series they could taste it, but then Steve Bartman became the goat of the hour. Since 1945 (the last time they made the Series), they have lived under the so-called “curse of the Billy goat”. Reds fans (and I am one), as Paul Daugherty writes, are not so much demanding as expectant that after 9 years of losing and 14 years without a playoff berth, something good has to happen for their team, and soon.
So—what does any of this have to do with faith? Well, don’t we all deal with disappointment and hunger in life? Aren’t we thrilled when life is going well and people are excited about what the next day might bring? Don’t we all wish that sometimes people would be as loyal to faith when times are tough as they are to their ball clubs? Or maybe it’s the other way—fickle fans make us glad that our loyalty to God, and to our church, is stronger than that. After all, the result of our faith is more certain than the results produced by our favorite baseball team. Jesus has conquered death and offers us life that lasts forever. Which leaves us all with a question—do we get just as excited about God as we do about sports? I pray that we are more excited than that.
To borrow from Joe, this is the old lefthander rounding third and heading for home (remember, in life as in baseball, if you swing the bat, you’re dangerous).
We’re born again, there’s new grass on the field.” John Fogerty
If you know me well, you know how much I love baseball. When I was a kid, I would leave my house at 9:30 in the morning during the summer (I would have left earlier but my mother said 9:30 was early enough), ride my bike over to Bill Siedler’s house, and Bill, his brother Bobby, and I would play baseball in their backyard until dark. Yes, we took breaks to eat. Sure, others would join us sometimes, or we would join them for awhile (the Woehr brothers, who lived next door to the Siedlers, seemed to always bring Danny's pet rats outside during a game we were playing), but mostly it was just us. Many nights, we would try to get that last inning in before it was too dark to see the ball. My childhood memories of summer are surrounded by baseball. When I did stay home, the nights were filled with the voices of Marty and Joe and their tales of heroes and villains clothed in uniforms of white and gray. Even now, baseball captures my imagination, and teaches me a lot about how life, and yes, how faith, work.
People can approach their lives like baseball fans do, and watching the behavior of fans gives an example. Yankee fans expect to have the world on a platter. With 20-something World Series championships, anything less than winning the World Series is a disappointment. Then there are Cub fans (Red Sox fans used to be like this, too, but they have won 2 World Series since 2004, so it’s different now). Cub fans, no matter how good their team is (and lately, they’ve really been very good), are always looking for disaster to strike. That will happen when it’s been over 100 years since your team has won it all. In ’69, the Mets stole their miracle after the black cat ran around in front of their dugout. In ’03, they were so close to the World Series they could taste it, but then Steve Bartman became the goat of the hour. Since 1945 (the last time they made the Series), they have lived under the so-called “curse of the Billy goat”. Reds fans (and I am one), as Paul Daugherty writes, are not so much demanding as expectant that after 9 years of losing and 14 years without a playoff berth, something good has to happen for their team, and soon.
So—what does any of this have to do with faith? Well, don’t we all deal with disappointment and hunger in life? Aren’t we thrilled when life is going well and people are excited about what the next day might bring? Don’t we all wish that sometimes people would be as loyal to faith when times are tough as they are to their ball clubs? Or maybe it’s the other way—fickle fans make us glad that our loyalty to God, and to our church, is stronger than that. After all, the result of our faith is more certain than the results produced by our favorite baseball team. Jesus has conquered death and offers us life that lasts forever. Which leaves us all with a question—do we get just as excited about God as we do about sports? I pray that we are more excited than that.
To borrow from Joe, this is the old lefthander rounding third and heading for home (remember, in life as in baseball, if you swing the bat, you’re dangerous).
In Christ,
Michael
Good post. I, too, grew up on baseball and love it. I, too, have been a life-long Reds fan. I, too, love Jesus.
ReplyDeleteGood Job Mike! Your sister in law Anne
ReplyDelete