Photo courtesy of Mark Bridge |
I tried.
I really, really tried to pay
attention to the action on the ball field, but, as usual, the actions
of the people seated around me proved to be too much of a
distraction.
A huge baseball fan, a natural gift for
my husband on his birthday were tickets to a game at the local
ballpark. Not just any game, this was a match-up between two
long-time rivals, the Cincinnati Reds and the St. Louis Cardinals,
two teams battling to reach the top spot in the Central Division of
the National League. My oldest son was slated to go with him to the
game, until his responsibilities at his church called him away on
that particular weekend. I got to go in his place.
To be honest, I argued with my husband
on the matter. Surely he should pick one of his friends who likewise
love the game and who are knowledgeable enough to engage him in good
conversation on the subject between innings or when the action on the
field is slow. Jim knows from past experience that such battter
chatter is not something I excel in. He teases me often about not
knowing what sport is being played in front of me, let alone
which teams are engaged, simply because I am so fascinated by the
sights and sounds of the ballpark itself.
If our seats are high enough, there is
all the action on the nearby river to watch, just visible over the
far side of the stadium – the barges going up and down with their
loads, boats doing the same, or people on jet skis chasing each other
as the sun dances off the rippled water. Inside the park there are
multiple electronic signs flashing messages to catch my eye, as well
as the scoreboard itself, a media marvel so encompassing in the
information and entertainment it presents that there is really no
need to look at the field below it at all.
I am most distracted, however, by the
people around me, from the vendors selling their wares up on and down
the stairs to the interactions of the people seated in the rows
surrounding me. By the time a game is over I find I've been
entertained not by a baseball game so much as a life story I've
picked up on in the nine innings or so that it's played out before
me. I've identified the major players and learned their positions in
the unfolding drama, information I can't help but glean from the
conversations that take place just inches in front of my face.
On this particular day there were
three. To our right sat a couple from nearby Columbus, and it soon
became apparent they were not rooting for the local franchise.
Bravely they wore their Cardinals t-shirts in the midst of a sea of
Cincinnati red, loudly cheering on their team and laughingly
answering the angry glares and stares of the local crowd by becoming
ever more vocal. Their team was thumping ours, and they were loving
every minute of it.
Below us to the left was a family of
four which included two young boys obviously visiting a major league
stadium for the first time. Sporting jerseys still fresh from their
packaging and alternately holding hot dogs and mitts in their hands,
they were clearly awed by the experience and enjoying every minute of
a day they would never forget.
It was the family to our left that got
to me, however, a mom and dad using a trip to the ballpark as a means
to connect with their college-age daughters, boyfriends in tow.
Because of the long-standing rivalry between the two teams, tickets
were in short supply, and they hadn't been able to purchase six seats
together. The best they could do was to get the four beside us and
two in the row in front.
Determined not to let the separation
deter him, the father continually initiated conversation with his
daughter nearby, bending low to speak with her as she leaned back to
respond. On and on they chatted about her recent engagement, friends
they'd seen lately, even the amount of beer being consumed. Clearly
the game on the field was just the excuse this dad used to catch up
on what was happening in her life.
As the score became more and more
unfavorably lopsided, the stands began to empty out. The
out-of-towners to our right decided the lead was secure enough to
allow them leave the game and beat the traffic home. With seats now
open beside us, my husband tapped the daughter on the shoulder to
offer her our spots beside her family. Pointing to the man sitting to
our left, he jokingly asked her, “Do you know this guy?”
“He's my dad!” she responded, then
laughed as she realized we'd figured that out. Gladly she accepted
and was soon seated beside him, the free flow of conversation and
love facilitated by the move and continuing once more.
It turns out it wasn't just a ballpark
scenario after all. Sometimes in the game of life our eyes are so
fixed on the field of play that we don't realize that the final
outcome has a lot more to with relationship than points
scored.
Many years ago I was the
daughter whose heavenly Father was tapping her on the shoulder
continually. He, too, appeared to have a lot to say about the details
of my days...who I was dating, the friends I was hanging out with,
and, yes, even my alcohol consumption. I occasionally looked His way
to answer Him back before turning in my own direction once more, yet
doggedly He pursued me.
I am forever grateful that a friend
walking through life beside me took the time one day to tap me on the
shoulder, point to God, and likewise say, “Do you know this
Guy?” I realized I knew a lot about Him, having been raised
in church and all, but I didn't really know Him. Carefully it
was explained to me that the distance separating the two of us was
the sin in my life, and that Jesus was offering to switch me seats.
He would take my spot on the cross so that I might be seated beside
my Father in Heaven. Gladly I accepted, and have been gratefully
rejoicing in the love of my Father and the easy and open
communication with God ever since.
It's important that we deal with the
question now, because we can be certain that we will hear it again.
When the game of life is over in this world there will be a moment of
accountability in the next. Victory or defeat will be based on the
answer we give when asked about the One seated on the throne, “Do
you know Him?” How wonderful it will be to reply, “He's my
Savior, my Joy, my Life, my Hope, my Strength...”
In other words, “He's my Dad!”
“Not everyone who
says to me, 'Lord, Lord,' will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only
he who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. Many will say to
me on that day, 'Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and in
your name drive out demons and perform many miracles?' Then I will
tell them plainly, 'I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!'”
(Matthew 7:20-23 NIV)
No comments:
Post a Comment