""You see, you spend a good piece of your life gripping a baseball, and in the end it turns out that it was the other way around all the time. "
" Its the kid inside that keeps us all from going crazy" - Zach Braff as Dr. John Dorian on 'Scrubs'
I was 10 years old. The whole day had been spent in conversation with my friends in class. Could the boys pull it off? We couldn't sit still. All I knew is that I couldn't rest until it was over. My brother and I could barely contain ourselves. We had acted out the scenario all spring and summer, and the time has arrived. The Braves were on the brink of winning the NLCS, against Bonds and the evil Pirates. The only team I hated more than the Yankees. Francisco Cabrera was up to bat with 2 outs and we needed a miracle. Sid Bream was on 2nd, representing the winning run. The problem was that Bream was as slow as molasses. Cabrera smacked a hard hit line drive to left field, and Bream rounded third, beat out the close throw and slid into home! Our little house erupted. I couldn't believe it. I just remember how fun it was watching that moment. I saw again on TV earlier today, and the strangest thing happened. I had little butterflies watching it, as if I had forgotten what the outcome would be. And as I listened to Skip Carey announcing what was happening, my eyes welled up with tears, and I was smiling (see link below). Baseball always has that effect on me. I love it. I believe the one reason I love it the most is because you can always look back and remember how great it was when you were a kid. I loved lacing up my cleats. Breaking in a new glove. Looking at the Eastbay catalog at all the gear you wanted to buy but could never mow enough grass to afford. It serves as a reminder of a time when life was good, and even now when I go to the ballpark, the same reaction is evoked.
As a follower of Christ, I believe it is deeply engrained in our souls to remember the times when we felt most alive. Life has a way of kicking us in the soul. Friends pass away. Jobs are lost. Money is scarce. Parents hurt us. Girls reject us. Our pants don't seem to fit as well. We begin to believe that God is holding out on us. Like the Israelites in Exodus 14, we long for God to just leave us alone. Our hearts can't take another break.
God however knows better. He constantly reminds us of our identity. He gives us scripture. He blesses us with things like baseball, kids, spouses, art, music, and friends to remind us that something is more true. The truth is that Hope is always lurking. Much like baseball allows me to look back and remember a time when life was good, there is a river of forgiveness that leads me back to a cross. A nasty bloody reminder that God stopped at nothing to redeem his elect. Christ bought back our joy. Spend time with kids and you will see it. The wonder with which they live there lives is available to us as well. It is not lost, we have only lost sight of it. We have covered it up with sports coats and ties. Our joy has been buried deeply underneath the rubble of broken dreams, and it will only be uncovered by the bulldozer of grace that is offered to us in the Person of Jesus.
