sports

Baseball in July

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I went with my brother-in-law and sister and their clan to a Nashville Sounds baseball game at the new stadium.

A good time was had by all. It really was.

It reminded me of a time eons ago when I came to a Nashville Sounds-Memphis Chicks game in the old Greer Stadium with my family and one of my cousins. I was probably the same age that my oldest nephew is now. Talk about full circle.

The new stadium was a bit underwhelming based on my expectations and what I had heard. Being from Memphis, I might sound a bit biased when I say that AutoZone Park is way better, but it is.

If I had to guess, I’d say that it’s a recreation of the old Sulphur Dell ballpark that was home to the old Nashville Vols back in the day. They even wore the old uniforms, this being Throwback Thursday. That was probably my favorite part of the evening.

The weather started off very uncooperative but ended up being picture perfect for a night of baseball. At 6:30, I was 90% sure that the game would be called off on account of rain. At 7:30, the game got a delayed start, but it started nonetheless. 

If you had told me 1) I’d go to a baseball game in July in Nashville and 2) that the temperature wouldn’t top 75, I would’ve thought 3) the cheese had slid off your cracker.

As much fun as it is to watch baseball on TV, it comes nowhere close to actually being there, even if there is Triple-A minor league baseball. Being a part of the crowd, smelling the freshly cut grass, and hearing the crack of the bat can never be replicated by even the most advanced HD TV on the market.

I guess at some point I’ll have to watch all those old baseball movies like Pride of the Yankees, Field of Dreams, and A League of Their Own. Maybe even Bull Durham.

There’s just something about the baseball experience that’s different from any sporting event. I can’t really explain it other than to say that you just have to go to understand.

 

 

 

 

 

That Mr. Irrelevant Again

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I watched some of the NFL draft today. It’s interesting to see who gets picked where and when and by whom. Plus, you get the joy of seeing the experts’ predictions blown up. You see people who stay up late at night worrying about these kinds of things prognosticating on how these players will either be a great pick or a bust.

As always, the very last pick, around number 256, of the very last round of the draft is called Mr. Irrelevant. Usually, players who don’t get picked up until that point don’t make the final roster of the NFL team that picked them.

I love the fact that no one is Mr. (or Mrs.) Irrelevant to God. God loves each person as if he or she were the only person in the whole world to love. And yet He loves every single person that way. I can’t fathom that, yet I’m nowhere close to being infinite. I can’t even love the very few (in comparison) people in my life with anything close to complete and unconditional love.

At times, other people may make you feel irrelevant. It may or may not be intentional, but the hurt is the same either way. You may feel that what you do and who you are don’t matter to anyone and that maybe the world would be better off without you in it. The feelings may not be true, but that doesn’t stop them from feeling real.

Try this. Read John 3:16. Where it says “the world,” insert your name. For me, it would go something like this, “For God so loved Greg, that He gave His one and only Son, that if Greg believes in Him, He shall not perish.”

Remember that Jesus thought you were to die for. You matter to Him immensely. That’s something to remember on those nights when you feel alone and unwanted.

 

March Madness Yet Again??

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I have to confess that I’m not quite the sports fan that I used to be. Maybe it’s the absurd salaries and extreme lack of loyalty to anything other than the almighty dollar. Who knows?

I do know that when March rolls around, the sports fan in me awakens from hibernation and comes alive. Why? March Madness, i. e. The NCAA Basketball Tournament.

I’ll fill out my brackets and wait. Usually by the second round, my brackets have crashed and burned. Then I start rooting for the underdogs.

It seems like every year there’s a team that makes it further in the field than they should. A team that overachieves and who gets billed as the next Cinderella, the next David to knock off a Goliath.

I love those stories because I remember that I, too, was once an underdog with no hopes and no chance at all of winning. That’s my take on Ephesians 2.

But God who is rich in mercy (how I love that phrase) found me and rescued me and put me on His winning team.

Maybe one day one of those long-shot mid-major teams will finally win it all. I hope so. But I’m thankful to be reminded on a daily basis that in Christ, I’ve already won. I’m more than a conqueror.

So bring on those brackets this year. I’m ready.

Takeaways from the Winter Olympics Opening Ceremonies

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My favorite part of the opening ceremonies of the 2014 Winter Olympics by far was seeing the athletes march in by countries.

There were a few countries I had never heard of. Some countries have less people than some of the towns I’ve lived in.

Many countries only had one athlete representing them. But every country, no matter how big or small, had its chance to be represented and to showcase their very best.

I imagine Heaven will be like that. The Book of Revelation says that at the throne of the Lamb there will be people from every tribe, tongue, and nation present. I doubt that they’ll be separated by nationality. In Heaven, they will be one people finally united in Christ.

I can however imagine a similar entrance to the one I saw tonight. Maybe it will start off with those first century believers, with the twelve apostles leading the way. Then believers from the following 20 centuries will follow, with this century’s believers being the last in the parade.

That is purely my own imagination at work. But I do know for certain that heaven will be a grand spectacle that will be bigger and better than the most lavish production or ceremony down here.

And it will go on throughout eternity. Like C. S. Lewis wrote in The Last Battle, Heaven will be like a great novel where the story never ends and each succeeding chapter is better than the one before. It will be like that book you just couldn’t put down.

Best of all, Jesus will be there. More than all the streets of gold and gates with precious stones and mansions, Heaven will be Heaven because Jesus is there.

And maybe Mr. Tumnus will be there, too. You never know.

Waiting and Praying Through

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“Did you catch what this self-assured judge said? If he can be moved to act justly, won’t God bring justice for His chosen people when they cry to Him day and night? Will He be slow to bring them justice? Mark My words: God will intervene fast with vindication. But here’s the question: when the Son of Man comes, will He find anyone who still has faith? (Luke 18:6-8)

Something Aaron Bryant said tonight at Kairos really caught my attention. He said something to the effect of “If God granted you that one big thing you’ve been praying for at that very moment you asked for it, what would happen? Would you be ready for it?”

If God gave you that hot-looking guy or gal, how would that turn out? Would that relationship implode because you weren’t emotionally ready for such a relationship? Would getting that career you asked for cause your family relationships to suffer because of the extra work hours and responsibility?

I know one of God’s best gifts to me has been not giving me what I asked for that I thought I had to have right then and there. For one, what I asked for was stupid and for two, I wasn’t near ready for it.

That girl that I was certain God should bless me with as a wife? I can’t even remember her name. All I know is that our marriage would have been one big hot mess.

According to one wise church member, God has four answers to my prayers: 1) “Yes”, 2) “No”, 3) “Maybe”, and 4) “Are you kidding me?”.

I know you could never imagine God saying that last one. But think of some of the things you’ve prayed for. I can think of times when I prayed for my team to win a game or another team to lose. I can think of a time or two when I prayed for a really attractive girl to be attracted to me. Probably we’ve all prayed that the whole bag of Oreos we ate in one setting would turn to muscle and not fat.

God sometimes makes us wait for what we pray for so we can see if what we’ve asked for is something we want or something we need. Like praying for a Porsche versus praying for reliable transportation.

Right now, my prayer is that God does whatever it takes to conform me into the image of Jesus. That people come away from me having met Jesus, even if they don’t remember my name. That I can be the best me that God made me to be.

And if you don’t remember anything else, remember to keep on praying and don’t give up. Ever.

All Things Cornhole

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Tonight, KSA ( that is Kairos Sports Adventure for the uninitiated) had a Cornhole tournament and chili cook off. What is cornhole, you say?

First off, it is not this.

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Or this.

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Cornhole is “a serious toss game played in leauges on the West Side of Cincinnati Ohio. The game and targets are very similar to Bag’O, a commercial game from the East Coast U.S..” All that to say it involves tossing a bean bag at a rectangular board with a hole cut out in it.

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Mostly, it’s about getting together with friends and having fun. It’s about sharing life.

I met some people tonight that I hope I’ll become friends with over time.

And FYI, if you want to know what cornhole really is, didn’t look it up on google. Ask someone who’s played before. Let’s just say there are some things you can never unsee (or unread).

I am learning to find joy in the minutiae of life, in the small moments and conversations. I am learning that gratitude and thanksgiving unlock the ability to see God more in these moments and find His joy everywhere.

Life is the miracle of breathing grace in and out, of being present to the present, of experiencing fully every second you get from God.

Thank you to Stephanie and Emily and everyone else who made tonight possible. It was indeed a good night.

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On a Night Like This 3

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My friends and I played sand volleyball again tonight. For the record, no one confused any of us with professional athletes, but we had fun. And that was the point of the evening.

I’ve noticed all of us have improved over time. We each have grown more confident in our own abilities and brought out the best in those around us. We’ve learned to trust each other and we know what any given person’s strengths and weaknesses are. We’ve learned to play as a team.

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I really believe that’s Church. We figure out life together. We offer encouragement in the face of failure and mistakes and we cheer for successes and victories. We know that in order to win, we need all of us together, on the same page with the same endgame in mind.

We learn to work together, knowing that we can be strong for others in areas where they’re weak. We learn to admit where we need help and to humble ourselves enough to ask for that help.

And as simplistic as it sounds, the most important part of living is showing up. It’s being present in your own life and not just a spectator watching and biding your time until you get to that next phase. It’s about intentionally choosing to engage with those around you and breathe in the night air and find joy in the details and to see God at work right where you are right when you’re there.

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Plus, it helps if you can laugh at yourself. I think my shining moment was tripping over my own two feet in a frantic effort to get to the ball. Did I mention I’m not Olympic material?

No one will remember next week which teams won or lost. No one will remember whose teams thry were on. But we will remember a perfect night with good friends and laughter and good memories. And best of all, joy.

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A Good Night for a Homecoming

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It was a good night for a high school homecoming game. It seemed more than a bit surreal to be at Beech High School on their homecoming night, but you couldn’t ask for better weather.

The home team won. Barely. The game was probably more suspenseful than it needed to be, as the Beech Buccaneers kept letting Gallatin back in the game. All that matters in the end is that the home team won and lots of good memories got made.

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I was purely a spectator. I didn’t know anyone at the game save for the handful of folks from my community group. I was feeling a bit weary and disconnected, so I did my fair share of wandering alone through the masses there to celebrate one of the truly great and time-honored rites of passage still left sacred in our society.

I was a bit saddened by the regret of one blog I wrote about a friend some months ago that caused a strain on our friendship. I’ve since deleted the post, but it’s still not the same as it was (and may never again be). If I could go back in time, I’d tell myself not to write that blog. It’s one thing I wish everyday that I could go back and undo.

But enough of that. I got over it. I saw a very strange but creative halftime show by the Beech High School marching band. Apparently, it was themed around the M. Night Shyamalan movie Signs, but all I saw were little green men and women scurrying around a fake cornfield and playing eerie movie music. Kudos for creativity, but not so much for making sense.

I made a new friend (Rachel), had some very salty Powerade, witnessed a great game, and hung out with some amazing people called the Green Hills Community Group.

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It’s funny how at times I remembered exactly how I felt as a 17-year old during my high school homecoming game. All the uncertainty, fear, doubts, insecurities, and joys came rushing back. But I saw it all through (hopefully) wiser 41-year old eyes.

I hope to do the high school homecoming game thing again, but hopefully not after putting in 40 hours of work in 4 days and hopefully more rested.

God is just as good to me at 41 as He was when I was 17. It’s nice to know some things never change. Even when I’m 64, that same God will be with me and for me and love me just the same He did when I was in high school and like He does now.

Baseball After an 11-Hour Shift? Sounds Good to Me

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What does a normal person do after putting in an 11-hour shift on a Friday before a holiday weekend?
A. Go home and crash into a 48-hour coma.
B. Go eat my weight 1) chocolate and/or 2) fried foods.
C. Both A and B.

If you answered A, B, or C, you’d be wrong. I opted for
D. Drive to a Nashville Sounds game to hang out with my amazing community group.

Ok. I cheated. But then again, no one has ever accused me of being normal. I’m crazy and I go normal from time to time. It’s usually the worst 5 minutes of my day. Normal is not something I’ve ever been good at. Being unique is something I’m starting to excel at.

It was hot. And muggy. I sweated like a pig visiting a bacon factory. It was not pretty. For me or anyone within smelling distance of me.

The game was good. My team won and there was much rejoicing. Yay.

More than anything, I remember good conversations with good friends, good funnel cake (fried), and good memories made. Throw in some cold lemonade and an encouraging text or two and I call it a perfect night.

I am seeing God in the tiny details these days. And He’s everywhere. Like in the unexpectedly cool breeze on a humid day, grace from friends, the freedom to finally forgive myself for not being all things to all people, and good funnel cake. You just have to know where to look and how to see with eyes of faith.

I am still learning to live in the moment and love God there. No more dwelling on past regrets or future maybes. God is here now and I can only hear Him speaking if I am fully present in the present. Right here, right now.

Lord, I am here now hearing now. Speak, for Your servant is listening.

A Perfect Night for Sand Volleyball

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I had a blast playing sand volleyball tonight. Even though my teams only won once and I sweated like the pig that knows he’s about to be dinner.

It’s not about my mad volleyball skills. In fact, none of us are all that good. Well, maybe one or two. But we have fun and we cheer each other on and we laugh with each other instead of at each other. It never gets overly competitive and no one gets mad at anybody about a bad hit or that occasional moment when someone forgets that they’re in the middle of an actual game.

My favorite to watch (and my new friend) is a girl named Katie. She has an infectious joy and is one of those people who smile with their whole face. It’s hard to not be happy around her. I love the way my friends J.D. and Julie exhibit what a good marriage is and how two married people can be best friends too. Troy is one of the most consistent players who’s as good as any player out there yet able to laugh at himself when he messes up.

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The best part is that we root for each other, even if we’re on opposite teams. I don’t mind losing if I see the people on the other team enjoying themselves and getting in a good hit or two. As long as it’s not a complete blowout.

I love more than anything watching people who get better each time they play and really start believing in themselves. There’s nothing better for somebody than a little taste of success.

I like to think that Jesus roots for His children that way. He knows we’re frail and too often choose badly and fall down. He knows that we still have that old sin nature that sometimes comes out when we make poor decisions and know something is wrong yet  do it anyway.

I heard in church today that we don’t need empathy. We don’t need someone who feels bad with us when we feel bad. What we need is Somebody who knows what we’re feeling but also has the power to do something about it. Somebody who has the power to transform us and our choices.

Jesus is the best because not only does He root for us, but He sees us not as we are but how we could be at our very best. Not only that, but He is changing us into our very best selves. That is, changing us to be just like Jesus.