The Bungee Cord 9-6-21

Hello,

I watched some of the Little League World Series a couple of weeks ago, and it brought back memories of my days on the small diamond. A gray flannel buttoned uniform with Pirates stitched across my chest in green letters, and a panel on my back advertising our sponsor, Foster Toys. A green felt baseball hat on my head, folded correctly when not worn so the front would stand up straight making the “H”, for Hinsdale, prominently seen when worn. Green stirrup socks on my calves, and black cleated shoes on my feet (you only wore black shoes in those days). A mitt that was a little bit too big on my left hand, and a wood Louisville slugger bat draped over my shoulder in my right.

I was a pitcher and a short stop and generally batted clean-up for our team. Little League baseball was big in my town. There were two “leagues”, the American League and the National league, and the league that you were in depended on your home address. Odd numbered addresses were National League, even numbered were American. 705 S. Grant was my address, so that landed me in the National league, and specifically on the Pirates. I wound up on the Pirates by virtue of a draft. Everyone, when they started playing baseball, would show up on at Robin’s Park for a tryout, from which the coaches picked their team. And once you were picked by a particular team, that was your team for your Little League career, moving up the “farm” levels until you made the majors. As you can see, baseball was quite a serious, organized thing in Hinsdale.

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed playing Little League baseball, battling with and against the kids that I would rub shoulders with in school. We all, or course, wore our baseball hats to school, showing our team pride. I would smile when I was on the mound and I could hear all of my team mates yelling, “Hey, batter! Hey, batter. Hey, batter, batter, batter….SWING!” But sometimes, it seemed to me, that something got lost in our games. Sometimes it seemed like the pressure of the whole world lay upon my shoulders as I was out there pitching, after all we needed to win to hold our heads up high. And each ground ball that came bounding my way carried with it the label goat (not today’s interpretation of “goat”) or hero. And even more so at bat, a strike out, especially with someone on base, was a branding of failure. Some coaches took losing better than others, but we who played knew that losing brought with it a name that no one wanted to bear, “LOSER!”

Sometimes, something got lost, and what got lost was that baseball was meant to be fun. Sure there was great good in mastering a talent, trying your hardest, carrying your part on a team, but at its deepest level, Little League baseball was supposed to be about fun. Sometimes, greatness, glory, perfection, and dominance had a way of overshadowing fun.

Over the course of my ministry, I have sometimes seen the same thing happening in the church. Something gets lost, and in the church it seems to me that Jesus gets lost. It seems to me that Jesus gets hidden behind the counting of people sitting in the pews. It seems to me that Jesus gets hidden behind focusing on proper piety or perfection in worship. It seems to me that Jesus gets hidden behind conflicts over budgets and turf wars. It seems to me that Jesus gets hidden behind church structure and rules. It seems to me that Jesus gets hidden behind human pride and human fears. Somehow greatness, glory, perfection and dominance also seep their way into the church and sometimes seem to overshadow why the church exists….and that is the church exists to experience the life-transforming grace of Jesus.

Notice that I repeatedly used the word, “sometimes”, both in my remembrance of Little League and my speaking of the church. Sometimes fun gets lost in Little League…sometimes Jesus gets lost in the church. But at other times my Little League baseball days were so fun that I remember them as if they were yesterday and yearn for them today. At other times when I look at the churches in which I have been involved I have seen God’s love so palpably present that despair, fear, sorrow, and even death are overwhelmed….for others, and for me.

Little League baseball is not perfect, but the more we keep our eyes on what is at the core of Little League baseball, the more it will be true to its core - fun. Likewise, the church is not perfect, and maybe quite far from perfect, because after all, it is comprised of sinners in need of forgiveness. However, the more we keep our eyes on the core….and the core is Jesus….the more it will be true to its core, Jesus.

The core is worth keeping our eyes on!

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace, (ggap)

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

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