Tuesday, January 20, 2015

January 20 – “It counts”

I had a birthday three days ago.  It wasn’t one we celebrate regularly, although we probably should.  See, 43 years ago I became a Christian, so January 17th is my Christian birthday.  Can you count that as a valid day for celebration?

How did it happen?  Well, in a nutshell, God invaded my life at the point of my passion.  I know.  Sounds all churchified, doesn’t it?  It is what happened, though.  It would take a long time to write down all the “fun” details about how I became a believer.  In fact I have done that, and it takes up a good five pages.  Way too much for a blog, I guess.  Here’s a Reader’s Digest version:

My passion growing up was always baseball.  Loved it.  Wanted to play it forever.  Watched it.  Collected baseball cards.  Read about it.  I read every book the Rosenberg Library had that was even remotely related to baseball.  I had heroes.  The typical ones for my era Maris and Mantle, sure, but I also had Bob Aspromonte and the rest of the brand new Houston Colt .45’s.  And I was fascinated by the old players.  The really great old players.  Babe Ruth.  Dizzy Dean.  Lefty Gomez.  Ty Cobb.  And one in particular struck my fancy for some reason.  A guy named Billy Sunday.  He was a pro player who became a drunk.  One Sunday he woke up in a gutter and heard music from a church.  He went in and his life was changed forever.  He left baseball and became a preacher.  Now, I wasn’t fascinated with the guy because of his preacher status.  I just couldn’t for the life of me figure out how someone could just walk away from baseball like he did.  At the time I chalked it up to some kind of mental illness. 

As I got older it became painfully apparent that I would never fulfill my dream of playing major league baseball.  I was a pretty good shortstop, but not much of a hitter.  I finally gave up when I found out that to play baseball for the school meant having to practice in January.  It was cold in January.  Not a time to be outside at all.  About that time I lost my girlfriend.  Now she didn’t die or anything.  She just dumped me for a football player.  Devastated me to the core.  I was pretty severely depressed as a result.  Doctor’s appointments.  Tests of all kinds.  Medications.  The whole nine yards.  Things were getting quite serious, and the next step in my treatment plan was a residential stay in a psychiatric facility. 

About that time I was president of the Key Club at school. I moved into that role and pushed myself to do more there. One of our projects was to visit each other's churches, so I never missed one of those. But it was just that, a project.  During one of those visits, however, I saw something quite “interesting.” A girl I had met and had begun dating was a member there. Here was another possibility - a relationship! I began attending her church after I attended mine (1 wanted to be sure all my bases were covered!). I looked forward to holding her hand during the service and continuing our dating relationship. I saw her every day at school and called her every night. But, still, I was filled with a sense of loss, of grief, of depression, and it was worsening.  The girl invited me to attend a weekend trip with the youth choir from her church. Another friend at the church assured me that we would be playing softball as well, so I agreed to go. A very unusual thing happened to me on that trip. Along with the singing and softball that I expected, there were also teaching sessions. I did my best to tune those out, until I heard the teacher mention, of all things, Billy Sunday. Here's something I knew about! The reference was a minor one, just to make some point in the teaching, but the deed had been done. I was listening, and I was hooked.

I heard for the first time that Jesus loved me and wanted to have a personal relationship with me. I knew the story of how Jesus died and rose again, and I knew I had a real problem with sin. But for the first time all those things came crashing together as I realized it was for me!  Jesus invaded my life at the point of my passion and revolutionized / radically altered / redirected / exploded / shattered my illusion of what really matters most. This was the answer. This was something worth caring about even more than baseball.

 It didn't matter to him that I had been dumped. He loved me anyway ... just as I was. He promised a way to have joy in my life in spite of the furnace I was cooking in. I jumped at the chance. I prayed and asked Jesus to forgive me, to come into my life and take over. And for the first time I experienced a peace that I certainly couldn't understand. This peace was there even in situations I couldn't handle. I no longer had to fear suffering because my joy was no longer based on circumstances, but on my relationship with Jesus. And he promised that I could always count on him. And I was different.

The depression lifted. The dull ache that had refused to leave me was gone. I sensed a new purpose in life. I saw once again something to wake up in the morning for. I had a new passion!  I still like baseball, a lot. I still collect baseball cards.  I'm still an Astros fan. I still like to read books about the game and the players. But it's not my passion.

I like watching movies. And hanging out with my sons. And spending time with my wife.  And playing with my grandkids.  But my passion, the thing that drives me, the only thing I really need, is my personal relationship with Jesus. I like to spend time with him every day. I like to talk to him. I like to teach about him. I like to try to be like him. It is my life, and it's fun!  Best birthday present I ever received.  I think it counts.

John 3:16-17 says, “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.  For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.”

Father, thank you for the best birthday present ever ... life … new life … and second chances.  Amen.

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