"The hard is what makes it great"
The God of Small Ball
I was thinking about my sister tonight, and I am struck with a theory of how God works... well, how He works in my world.
I love baseball. It was my favorite sport as a youth and had I not had my head up my rear, as many youth do, I 'might' have been able to actually do something with the skills I had developed practicing this game. Many a hour I spent outside our home in Greensboro hitting rocks into the woods with my Easton bat pretending to be Johnny Bench or Joe Morgan. Many days spent throwing a ball in the air, catching it, winning yet another World Series title for the Reds. Many a time my dad played catch with me and with with every throw I was more determined to make him proud. Many glorious moments in the Pleasant Garden little league system, playing for various teams all through Jr. High. There were All-star games, trips to McDonald's after a win (or after a loss for that matter). Pool parties to celebrate the end of the season and always a cool trophy to add to the collection in my room. High School came along and because of a silly 'personality' conflict with the coach, I ended my baseball career as a Sophomore. It seemed such a principled stand at the time, but now just seems like a waste of 2 years.
I grew up a major Cincinnati Reds fan and still am a proud member of the Red Army, and supporter of 'The Big Red Machine'. I spend much of my time these days in late winter/early spring here in Wichita watching the Wichita State Shockers baseball team. I truly love and embrace every game I get to watch in person along side my dad. There really is no pastor alive that can dress down an umpire like my father. "COME ON BLUE!" :-)
That is all just a quick background leading to my belief that God plays 'small ball'. I have long been frustrated because God doesn't seem to do the Grand Slam miracles in my life. He doesn't simply end the stress or worry or the praying with a 'no doubter' that leaves us all breathless. He doesn't make it 'easy'; it often seems 'too hard', or too complicated. You see many people don't like baseball because of the slow pace, the strategy, the countless pitching changes, the trips to the mound by managers and coaches. Well I love that stuff.
Don't get me wrong, I used to get pretty jazzed up watching Michael Jordan drop 50 on the Knicks and prior to that, playing for the Heels. I have 2 walls in my basement devoted to those moments. I love a football game where the Panthers, Browns or Chiefs maul someone... of course those moments are now like that of unicorn sightings. But what I really love, I mean really love is a 2-1 or 3-2 baseball game that is flawlessly played and brilliantly won because of clutch play, great defense and timely strategy.
See in baseball, it's not the grand slams that win many games. It's not the bottom of the 9th double, scoring a runner from second, that often wins the game. What wins most games, especially in the pros is 'small ball', the 'hard' stuff. It's sacrifice bunts; it's hit and runs, it's taking a pitch so the runner can steal; it's middle relief; it's a double steal; it's a sacrifice fly; it's swinging at a bad pitch just to protect the runner; it's knowing when to call a pitch-out to catch a runner stealing, it's knowing where to position fielders based on a batter's known tendencies; it's knowing when to pinch-hit or pull your starter when he's gassed. Some people like checkers; baseball is chess.
I was reminded tonight of how God works in my stadium and in 'my game'. I was growing frustrated again with my sister's issues and those of her kids and how it just seems like God is not coming through when the bases are loaded. Actually he's barely hitting above the Mendoza line (baseball fans will know what that is). I just feel like there's a lot of talent and no results... then God lays down a sacrifice, a runner advances. Or He draws a walk, extending the inning. Or he steals 2nd with 2 outs.
I was on my way home and had texted Lisa telling her that I loved her and I was sorry that her surgical issues were still lingering and that I would pray for her. Her reply was:
'Wow! How big is my God?! I was at this very moment thinking of you and praying for your family. Gets kinda creepy. :-) And yes, I could for sure use the prayers and love ya back'.
In my analogous world, God just laid down the perfect bunt single and the home team is still in this game and has some momentum. Obviously and theologically, God hit the Grand Slam with his death and resurrection. But in the day-to-day, in this 60-70-80 year window we have (if we're lucky), it's 'small ball' that sees us through.
You may not get the Grand-Slam prayer answer you're looking for. You may feel like your team is getting so whipped that there's little point in trying or cheering. But God is managing and playing this out with perfection. It may not move fast enough for you, but unlike the teams I pull for and the games I watch, I know this games ends in victory... if I but hang in there and watch His signs.
God often sounds like coach Al Byrd from my little league days: (in full North Carolinian voice) "Heaven's to Betsy son! What are you doing?" I remember struggling with ground balls in about the 3rd of 4th grade. Coach Byrd kept me after practice and hit about 100 ground balls at me at a feverish pace. I had bruises all over me afterwards and while he was doing it he kept saying, 'Heaven's to Betsy Robinson! It won't hurt if you stop 'em in your glove'. Good point; I really never again struggled with those things and wound up being quite proficient at short-stop. That's how you teach small ball, the basics, the little things. God may pepper you with things you struggle with and at some point it would be best to simply learn how to 'field them' and improve your chances of staying in the game and not getting all beat up.
Ok, I really could go on for days with baseball analogies... you get the point. :-)
Blessing to you all.
