“Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.”
Romans 12:12
I married a baseball player. I know very little of this complex, elegantly detailed sport except the bits and pieces I have picked up through the years from him.
Now that our boys play, after all these years of ignorance, I find I am falling in love with the game. Baseball is graceful and dignified in a way that I had not realized. That isn’t why I am falling for it, though.
Certainly I feel wooed by its slow pace, the smooth red dirt, and the expanse of green grass. But I am completely enamored with the opportunities it affords me to pray.
I suppose I am following in the footsteps of my mother-in-law. She has told me many times how she would sit watching games and pray for her son. She prayed God would capture his heart more than baseball had. God answered those prayers in ways she couldn’t have expected all those years ago. I think maybe her story is where the seed of this joy began for me.
As the batters walk up to the plate, no matter which team, whether I know them or not, I pray quietly for them. What other team sport has a moment like this? I can’t think of one. Hushed and intense focus on one boy with a bat, facing a pitcher with a ball. The anticipation is thick and heavy. Most moms hide their eyes. Most dads clench their jaws.
It can seem as if your child’s whole future success is about to be determined by his ability to make contact with that baseball. I started praying because I had to remind my soul that I am raising Christ-followers, not baseball players. Home run or strike out, my sons were made to glorify Him in success and in failure. God can use our talents and our weaknesses to draw us to Him. When you live remembering that, you can never lose.
I pray because I know that truth is hard to remember in moments of pressure. I have seen the boys cry after striking out. I have watched them glory in their achievement when they power the ball into the outfield.
So I ask God to meet them right there at home plate. I pray for wisdom for their parents. I pray those cute boys in baseball pants would seek Him when they fail and when they succeed. Most of all, I pray they will change the world with their love for and devotion to Jesus.
Last night, the last batter of the game stood at home plate awaiting his first pitch. I asked God to fill him with His love just as the ball left the pitcher’s hand.
When I heard the beautiful crack of the bat hitting that little ball, and saw it arc out into center field with force and speed, my eyes brimmed with tears as God’s love poured into my own heart.
We go to the fields to play and watch baseball. We carry with us the gospel. His love is in our hands and His power lives in our words.
It is more than a simple game. We are here for Him.
amazing post!
Thank you! 🙂
Did Ranger tickets just get more expensive? Much love.