Baseball is a traditional American game for the traditional American boy. Something that is no longer just a game, but a living memory of the past. The way things used to be. The thing that drove me to look forward to very spring and summer. But now it is a game I love that I have been allowed to play by my Lord Jesus Christ.
Remembrance of the way us youngsters played on the field after coming from various homes of problems. It was all lost, at least waiting in the lockers for us, but for the time being we could all forget, drop it like it was yesterday’s fear. Psalm 37:4 states that if you delight yourself in the Lord that he will fulfill the desires of your heart. And he has done just that. And if I continue to live to see the God who has been so good to not just one but many more of my fellow spiritual brothers and sisters: then why should baseball be my reason when Jesus is the reason?
Jesus is the one whom I leave troubles to. since then: he has given me something to enjoy myself with: and endless game of fun and pure competition, one that can be played for an eternity.
The way a team made of seven year olds turned out to be more athletic than the other teams due to the fact that we left all that matters behind, and for once and knew we owned that ball like our very hands. It’s not all about hitting the ball, rounding the bases or ever coming home, as coach used to tell me. But rather the legends that swung at that very same slider, the way my calloused feet sink into the withered brown once a shining white bag, as of a knight on a horse; which sparks your soul with the need for more and the adrenaline to never die. To come home to the men who I spent endless summer hours, minutes and seconds perfecting what we love on this planet most. God has given me something that forever changed my life: HIS son. One who is the answer to troubles and the giver of reasons. My answer was Him and my reason was Him, my blessing: the game I’ve always loved.
A fond memory of three years ago dwells in my memory when my teammates and I shouted: “We’re takin’ it all home!” answered by “Victory!” as dust rolled across a field which not only placed our lives with a 36 to 8 win, but also that we knew that with our family looking on; that a new alliance of brothers got the job done. Man after man. Hit after hit. The only thing I wished more was that the whole team was there; my brother Jake was there. But Jesus was there.
But more the smell of the glove against my face that my father once wore, yet there’s still the scent of lingering popcorn-that ancient concoction that people still bring. And the few precious hours of daylight left that represents another day over. Yet it will never end. His kingdom is made of men who might not be my same earthly brothers but rather men of him.
The way things were. The last of people who can step back and be people again. People who I wish I could be able to play with again in a place where outstanding feats are unlimited and His reign never ends.