“There’s more to come: We continue to shout our praise even when we’re hemmed in with troubles, because we know how troubles can develop passionate patience in us, and how that patience in turn forges the tempered steel of virtue, keeping us alert for whatever God will do next. In alert expectancy such as this, we’re never left feeling shortchanged. Quite the contrary—we can’t round up enough containers to hold everything God generously pours into our lives through the Holy Spirit!”
-Romans 5:3-5 (MSG)
I watched my son stalk off the baseball field to the dugout, angry about how the game was going.
Nobody likes losing. Losing is particularly painful when you were the top seed in the bracket, and this game should be in the bag.
But what is really “in the bag” in life? So few things are assured for us. The best achievements in life seem to be a mix of hard work, fumbled luck, and crazy grace.
I watched him guzzle some water. I wondered if he needed food. Maybe a cold rag for his neck? I wandered over and tried to see what I could do for him.
“Hey, need anyth-”
“NO!” he growled.
I backed away from this boy-turned-lion slowly, pretty sure now that this was not a moment that a mom was required at all. I sat down in my chair and indulged in my wish for life to be easy for my children. If life were easy, we could all be nice and friendly to each other all the time. We would be happy. Wouldn’t that be a lovely change?
I began to wonder why life can’t be easy and good for everyone in the whole world- for our friends and family, for our enemies, for the marginalized, for the powerful, and for everyone in between?
Easy life= happy people. This seemed elementary to me there in the blazing heat of the Texas sun.
Baseball was suddenly stupid and hard. The world out beyond it seemed stupid to me, too. Out past the pasture where we parked our cars, away from the red dirt lined with chalk and this old-time game designed to make my sons fail, is a ridiculous world where lovely people face mountains that are too impossible to climb: illnesses that can’t be cured, spouses who aren’t faithful, governments that fail their people, and debts too impossible to be paid.
There is no such thing as an easy life here on planet earth. My pipe dream melted quickly, along with the ice in my Sonic iced tea.
As I perused the world’s problems, the first inning came to a close. After zero hits and zero runs our team headed back out onto the field.
My son’s coach suggested that maybe he shouldn’t pitch this inning. Maybe he couldn’t….
“I can do it,” said the kid I love so much.
“Then show me,” said his coach. “Show me.”
And he did. That kid who had struggled through the first inning struck out the side. Three batters up, three batters down. He showed us all.
The whole tide of the game changed after that.
We got hits for days. Perfectly executed plays resulted in perfectly spectacular baseball. We won.
Even though the winning was nice, the score wasn’t what caught my breath and made me raise my hands in praise.
I sat in awe as the mountain of failure and frustration crumble under my son’s feet. As it fell, I caught a long-off view of the many mountains ahead of us in life. I realized that even though more stupid, painful, hard things are coming up ahead, we’re all going to be okay in the end.
Because there is a better Champion leading us onward than my son will ever become.
John 16 records these famous words of Jesus, “In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.”
Jesus showed us a better way to live in a world where difficult days loom ever over our heads. He picked up all of our brokenness and pain, carrying the heaviest burden of our sin on His back. Jesus trusted the Father to receive Him as a Son once He had fulfilled His painful destiny as our Savior.
All the stupid, hard things are our lessons, and Jesus is our best teacher, showing us that patience and endurance have an eternal reward.
Hours and hours after the game was done and the championship rings had been passed out, my son came to me.
“Sorry I barked at you during that game, Mom.”
“It’s okay, buddy. It was a tough moment. When you’re struggling like that, do you want me to keep my distance? Or is it okay for me to check on you?” This was my way of begging him for advice. Tell me how to be your mom, kid, because I am apparently clueless here.
“You can come. It helps me.”
“Okay. I’ll always be there, then.”
And so this is us, a mother and her growing son, showing each other what love looks like, one inning at a time.
This is not stupid at all. This is a gift.
