I am a mother to an eight year old ball player who, this year, seems to have figured out the physics and patience of the game of baseball. He wants to lead. He wants to try hard. He wants to encourage. But mostly, He wants to please God. He remarked to me the other day that he is playing, really, for the Lord. He trusts God to give him the ability. He trusts God to instill in him concentration and endurance. I admire this. Do I trust God this much? Do I confide that He is my all and that He leads my every step?
My son has played, in some fashion, the game of baseball since he was eighteen months. He would toddle out to his batting tee in the back yard with ball and bat in hand and swing away. Proud with his ability to just make contact. He delights in the game. He looks forward to Opening Day. He waits with wide eyed anticipation to see his favorite players hit home
A baseball. Svenska: En baseboll Foto: Tage Olsin (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
runs, catch pop-flies. He always asks, “Mom, do you think he is a Christian?” He believes that ability comes from God. I admire this.
I have learned a lot about God in baseball. Not by the game itself, but by the trust my son has in the Lord each time he hits the field. He knows that God goes before him. He knows that talent is not from his own ability but a gift from God. He knows that each hit and strike give rise to glorifying the Lord. He knows that each play is an opportunity for refinement-to be a good sport. He knows that God’s will is greater than his own. I am encouraged by that.
As an adult I don’t always trust that God is in control. And I repent. I get mixed up in my own wants and desires, I forget that His will is perfect and purposeful. I forget that each hit or strike I make He is refining me and teaching me to be steadfast in Him.
So, each night I am at the field I seek Him. I trust that if, in the details of Little League, He has Max, then in the big details of life, He has me.
Thank you, Jesus!
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