Joining A New Team

Beginning this week I will be writing a once-per-week article on sports, with a Christian theme, for a wonderful website - www.j31.org.

The ministry is aimed at men and encourages them to "live in Godly integrity, based upon the Biblical blueprint of Job, Chapter 31."

I hope you'll check out the site. I'm both humbled and excited to be asked to contribute on a regular basis. Below you'll find my first article, before it appears on the site:

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I’ve spent my entire life loving the game of baseball.

I’ve played it. Coached it. Been a fan from youth to adulthood. And for the last 10 years, I’ve broadcasted it at the Division I college level.

Passion for the game is something I inherited from my grandfather. He died when I was 11, which is far too soon for a boy to lose a grandparent. But it was more than enough time for him to instill in me the wondrous beauty of the sport.

More than any other game, baseball’s greatest lesson is handling failure. It’s been written a thousand times before, but that doesn’t make it any less true: Baseball is a game where the best of the best fail seven of every 10 times at-bat. Some of them make the Hall of Fame.

Or, as Jim Bouton once famously wrote, “It’s a round ball and a round bat, and you have to hit it square.”

Perseverance, adversity, stress, teamwork, trust…all lessons learned from both the diamond itself and the confines of the locker room or team bus.

Isn’t it amazing that those same lessons are part of the sanctification process God uses to make us more Christ-like after we give our lives over to Jesus? And just like baseball, no matter how good you are or how long you’ve been in the game, you’re still going to fail more than you succeed.

When I finally surrendered to Jesus almost 22 months ago (to hear my testimony, follow this link - https://www.dropbox.com/s/wkohdxo26s9hdm4/Radio%20Testimony%2012-23-13.mp3) I kept waiting for my “Paul on the road to Damascus” moment. The moment I would arrive.

But the truth is we never arrive. Not until the day we actually stand before The Lord and He utters the words “Well done…”

That fact is driven home each week at prayer breakfasts I attend with other men from our church. Men who, many of them, have been walking with Jesus for 20, 30, maybe 40 years or more. And these intimate times of Bible study and sharing reveal that even they struggle with the same issues, and constantly find themselves humbled before God seeking guidance.

Let’s go back to the baseball field, where just this week I’ve witnessed something that draws a near-perfect parallel to the issue at hand.

Our centerfielder, a senior, is a full-time starter for the first time in 2014. His twin brother has been the starting shortstop pretty much since the day they walked onto campus. But for this particular kid it’s been a struggle.

To his credit, the outfielder never wavered in his work ethic. For three years he trained, hit, fielded…whatever it took, in practice or after, to improve both his game and his chances of increased playing time.

This fall it all began to fall into place. His swing shortened up and he started hitting line drives everywhere. His play in the outfield was superb. And as January’s preseason practice commenced, he only strengthened his hold on a starting spot.

When Opening Day came, he was in the lineup. Hitting leadoff, in fact, and playing right field.

As the first portion of the season has worn on, the kid has been among the most consistent players on a Furman team having difficulty finding its footing in the pre-conference schedule. A batting average at or near .300 all year, he has been among the team leaders in RBIs and has turned in more than a handful of highlight-reel catches in the outfield.

And last weekend, when he singled sharply to right-center to drive in the winning run in the 10^th inning of a victory over Hofstra, it seemed to signal he was here to stay.

But baseball is a humbling game. Earlier this week Furman appeared certain to win a pitcher’s duel with North Carolina Central. Leading 2-0 heading to the ninth inning, Central managed to get runners to second and third with two outs. The man at the plate hit a fly ball that, even with a bit of ground to cover, looked to be an easy play for the outfielder. And it was. He got to it in plenty of time.

Only he dropped the ball.

Both runs scored to tie the game. In the bottom of the inning, with a chance to drive in his brother from third base with the winning run and redeem himself, he grounded weakly to a drawn-in shortstop who started a rundown that erased his brother from the base paths. Furman lost in 10 innings, 3-2.

I watched with great interest – and empathy – as the young man stood on the outskirts of the team huddle, then never taking his eyes off his shoelaces as he walked slowly, painfully toward the locker room.

Just when it appeared he had arrived, the cruel side of the game revealed itself. A stark reminder that you can never take anything – even a routine fly ball – for granted.

Isn’t that a microcosm of the Christian life? Satan will use any and every trick at his disposal, including allowing us to get extremely comfortable and then, without warning, viciously yanking the rug out from under us.

But Jesus is there to help pick us up. Dust us off. Lead us back to the Father for both forgiveness and instruction, and then walks beside us as we head back out into our daily lives. Knowing the process will repeat itself again and again.

One final note about the kid from Furman. He is a Christian. Unabashed in his faith.

After the game I felt led to send him a message of support. God gave you this burden because He knew you could handle it, I told him. And maybe, somewhere down the line, he will be the one consoling a teammate or player he’s coaching whose mistake cost his team the big game.

I left him just as I leave you, with Paul’s words in Romans 5:3, written from a jail cell urging other believers to persevere:

“And not only so, but we glory in tribulations also: knowing that tribulation worketh patience; And patience, experience; And experience, hope: And hope maketh not ashamed; because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us.”

Therapy On A Riding Mower

I used to hate cutting grass.

Let me qualify that. I still hate cutting grass if it involves a push mower. Or a weed eater.

The loathing began early. When I was 12 we moved from our house in the lower East End of Williamson, W.Va., to the house my grandfather built in the 1950s. When they moved 30 miles away, we inherited their house.

It was a great move for many reasons. In fact, there were almost no negatives. Almost.

But there was one. Our yard.

Looking at it now, it's tiny. But back then it was just large enough to be a royal pain in the wazoo. Oh, did I mention it sloped downhill at about a 60 degree angle?

My dad deemed me ready to cut the grass almost immediately upon our arrival on the hill. And once a week, I'd get the old blue lawnmower out and start cutting. Back and forth across the slope. Over strategically placed humps and around crevices near the driveway.

 Always thinking to myself that my parents would be sorry if I slipped and lost a foot. Or worse.

(AUTHOR'S NOTE: Year's later, when Angie and I were dating and I was working odd hours, dad tried cutting the grass. He DID slip, and whacked off part of a few toes on one foot. I felt guilty for weeks).

Funny, though, how you can learn life lessons at an early age. When I was a small child, and we visited my grandparents, occasionally my grandfather would be cutting the grass. But not in the conventional method.

To that same blue lawnmower he had attached a long rope. He would stand at the top of the hill, in the driveway, and feed the mower downhill with the rope. Then he'd pull it back up, and do it all over again; repeating the process until the job was done.

Watching him, I used to think he was silly. After cutting the grass a few times myself, I realized he was an unappreciated genius.

Anyway, after the grass was cut came the weedeating. Miles of yellow extension chord, which no matter how well I wound them (I thought) they found ways to entangle themselves while alone in the garage.

The whole process, which could have been accomplished in under 45 minutes, usually took much longer because my lack of enthusiasm had a direct effect on my working speed. Plus, as most of you know, when you spend all week dreading something, the actual task becomes much worse in your mind than in the real world.

As far as I was concerned, I was push-mowing a football field. Uphill. Both ways.

The hatred I felt for the job carried over into adulthood. Up until just a few weeks ago, in fact, I always paid someone to cut my yard.

But a couple of things conspired to change my mind. At least partially.

First, finances. Or lack of them. As the lack of steady work progressed, the proverbial belts have tightened. Among the things to go - my yard man. I resisted the temptation to hold a memorial service.

Secondly, and more importantly, was listening to older men talk at the prayer breakfasts I attend during the week. Getting out every week on the riding mower, they said,  is a chance to not only get some much-needed time alone, but it's a great time to talk over things with God.

And you know what? They're right.

Now, with a borrowed riding mower at my disposal, I look forward to cutting the grass each week. Despite the roar of the engine, it has proven to be quiet time with God. And as the stress has been piling up the last couple of months, those conversations have become more and more precious.

So men, if you're looking for some Divine therapy, hop on the mower and take the Lord for a ride. Talk to Him. Enjoy the peace that fills you as you ride, talk and - this is the important part - listen.

You might find, like I have, that your wife never has to nag you about cutting the grass. In fact, she may get on you for wanting to cut it too often.

And for you guys stuck with only a push mower? Pray for your grass not to grow as quickly and find your peace in the air-conditioned comfort of your home.

The rest of us will make it up for you.