A greater love...

Some of my fondest memories as a child come from playing at home. No matter where we lived, my dad would always find a way to turn our backyard into a baseball diamond. That meant real, Hollywood bases were laid down; foul lines were either trimmed lower than the cross-checkered lawn or in some cases, actually fully chalked to the fence. Each field had its own unique name and set of ground-rules. 

There was the ivy covered right field wall of ‘Lil Wrigley when we lived in Macomb. Then there was Cochran Stadium in Shawnee, named after our landlord; it was probably my favorite place to play. If I hit the front facing of the play fort in left with a line-drive, I’d get an automatic double. If my little brother connected in the same way, it was ruled a round-tripper, and anything that hit the roof was an out. Even the unfriendly confines of Perkins’ Sticker Patch Field carried a certain amount of charm that facilitated memory making.

It was in these lesser-known backyard ballparks that I began to fall in love with the game of baseball. It seemed I couldn’t field enough ground balls or take enough BP. It was in that setting in which I began to learn to compete. Dad would push me to be better and try harder through methods that were somewhat questionable. He knew which buttons to press and did so quite regularly. Sometimes by inducing ill-advised laughter when I was trying to concentrate and other times by provoking aggravation, dad’s goal was to help me find a way to focus and overcome adversity.

While the hours of work eventually sharpened my skills to be able to play baseball at the collegiate level, there were some negative repercussions along the way. I had developed into quite the people pleaser and found the world around me a lot tougher to satisfy than dad ever was. I also discovered over time that I had misplaced my identity in my ability to perform on a field and was prone to making unfair comparisons of myself to others.

“Don’t go and get all serious on us Matt! With all the nostalgic remembrances, this had the makings of a tender, post-Father’s Day blog.” Well, before you give up on the story, I think that it is worth pointing out that God’s redemptive work through the harsh realities of life is far more beautiful than the candy-coated fiction we often conjure up. See, the best thing that came from those backyard experiences wasn’t anything tied to sport and it was even greater than the quality time that I spent with my dad and my brother. In that environment the Lord revealed a competitive fire in me that when properly guided and harnessed, could bring Him glory.

By the mercies of God, I started to see that my identity was not to be found in things that can be taken away at any moment, but in Christ. I began to truly take the gospel to heart and see that if there was something to strive for, it was Christ. If there was something to rely upon, it was and will forever be His grace. My competition was no longer to be against numbers or records but for something more. I realized that as a believer I was called to compete for holiness through the power of the cross - to press on towards growth in Christ so that I might make much of Him.

And guess who helped me connect some of the dots? Do you know one of the folks that helped me see that there is so much more to life??? My dad of course!! And you thought I was gonna leave him under the bus... Look, the reason I share this today is because I think that we as parents have to be aware of the influence we have – both for trivial and eternal. We must fight the overwhelming temptation to vicariously live through our children and realize the dangers of raising kids in a culture with such competitive pressures.

I’m not suggesting we disengage and cease from competition at all. Rather, I’m encouraging us to see the call to compete for something more! Jesus' prayer for us in John 17 is not to pull us out of the world but to help us avoid all of its traps (John 17:15). May our focus be clear and our pursuit be pure. Might we use the shadows of this life, be it baseball or a dance recitals or everyday occurrences around the house, to point our children to Jesus. May we pull together to compete for truth, to fight for lost souls, to battle for healthy, balanced families, and desire the fullness that is found in faith.

Like the uniqueness of my childhood backyards with their various nooks and crannies, our Creator has crafted us all in a special way in order to bring Him glory. May we not miss the forest for the trees, but see the Father at work and join Him there.