I love baseball.Of course, everyone knows that already, it's not really a surprise to anyone. If you were there on Sunday night, you know how passionate my friends and I can get. My wife knows it all too well. Does it officially become an addiction when I wait until Allison falls asleep and stay up way too late to watch highlights every night, and in the process ruin my next day at work because I am so tired?
Oh well, Web Gems are more important than work productivity anyway.
Recently, I was reading an article online by a great baseball columnist, Jayson Stark. In that article, he wrote about the appeal of baseball to Americans everywhere, how it spreads across generations, how it is a continuing story that great-grandfathers and great-grandsons, the old and the young can all relate to. It's a game where you can see David Ortiz face Derek Jeter on the same field where Ted Williams battled Joe Dimaggio.
While the entire column was excellent, the first part of it particularly drew me in. It described a scene from September 6, 1995. That day would have otherwise been a typical game between the Baltimore Orioles and California Angels, but one number made that night special: 2,131.
On that night, Cal Ripken, Jr. surpassed Lou Gehrig's "unbreakable" record of playing in more than 2,130 straight games. It was a night of celebration and gifts and standing ovations and laps around the stadium thanking the fans.
The crowd applauded him for what seemed like forever. Everyone was chanting his name. Grown men stood and cried for half an hour.
Closer to home, we have our own examples of passion in the game. Every time I see a replay of Chris Burke's famous 18th-inning homer from last year's playoffs or hear Milo Hamilton's famous radio call of that play, ("swinging... lining it to left... iiiit's GONE, it's gone, it's gone, Chris Burke. Holy Toledo, what a way to finish... Chris Burke just punched a ticket to St. Louis!") I get goosebumps.
I think the reason I feel that way when I see the replay is because I was there to witness it. I could feel the tension in the game, I could see the passion in fans jumping up and down and in my brother and I when we were hugging complete strangers. Grown adults were acting like kids, yelling for their heroes. I had never seen such emotion in people.
I had never seen such emotion in me.
What is it like for you when you encounter God? For some, it's like watching Cal Ripken back in 1995. They stand in awe and amazement, their eyes blurry from the tears welling up and seeing the culmination of so much that someone has accomplished. For others, it's like the Burke home run. God does something so powerful and amazing that you can't help but let your emotions and joy pour out.
Every time I go to the ballpark, I notice something different and I learn something new. The experience of being at the game and hearing the sounds and watching the players' actions and reactions further my understanding of the game and help me to appreciate it more than I ever have.
I wish it was always that way for me when I experience God and His kingdom. Sometimes, when I go to games, I take for granted the sound of the crack of the bat, the smell of the grass, and the legends that are being born right in front of me. Too often, I do this with God as well. I take for granted that He molds me, He changes me and He protects me. When I see God work in amazing ways and display His power, I frequently dismiss it like everything is the same, like it is just any other game.
And that bothers me.
Chris Burke can excite me, Albert Pujols can amaze me, Roger Clemens can sometimes even inspire me. And then there's God; changing my life and turning me into the person He has called me to be. But I dismiss it because I have seen it all before.
Do we take our encounters with God for granted? I hope not. A playoff home run can never compare to Jesus on the cross or my Father working in my life.
May you see God every time he reveals Himself to you, and may your encounters with Him be extraordinary.
RK
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