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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