One from the sidelines <3

I am sitting here next to two tousle haired grands as they wake up by watching a Garfield cartoon. 

Emmett is off at church camp this week and reports have drifted in that he coaxed a friend into a morning run and has already headed to breakfast. 

The oldest is still sleeping, thankfully, because he is wearing hard on that growing body with multiple sports this summer.

And it is around that one that this story today revolves. It happened a couple of summers ago, but the memory is still fresh and stings with each rising. 

That particular summer, Graham was playing with a team he had played with for several years. They were a nice group of boys and parents and we had come to know them and enjoy their company as we attended quite a few games. 

I won’t pretend to say I understand the various leagues and travel investments and such that make up the complicated world of youth baseball these days, but suffice to say we were at a level where a banner featuring a photo of the boys had been created for the dugout, a sound system provided walk up music each game and there was enough pricey baseball paraphernalia on each player to purchase a pretty decent SUV. 

One particular team that we had faced at home was a team that was rooted in a Christian start up group originally. Our team was not. And yet, even though the opposing team began and ended the game with a prayer circle, the actions and activities of the coaches of this team did not reflect the most Christ-like behavior in my eyes nor the eyes of the parents on our team. 

We had played them a few times and then found ourselves pitted against them in a tournament setting in another city. The game had been close and as the time clock ticked away we found ourselves down by one. 

As the Home team, we could have another bat IF the clock did not time out first. This tournament was strictly time based, and so the coach from the other team used the clock to his advantage. 

As a batter would step up, he would call him out of the box and begin a series of ridiculous signals. Keep in mind he had not used signals the entire game, but now each batter had to step out before every single swing so that the coach could do a lengthy and complicated series of hand motions. 

The intensity of anger from our parent snd coaches began to increase in proportion with the heat of the afternoon sun, the absurd signals being given and the confused look of the batters who had would just look away and then back again since the motions meant nothing.  

The strategy worked. And thus, the umpire called time before we could have our bat and this team won. 

The opposing team whooped and hollered and then their gesturing coach humbly called for a round of prayer and invited our team to join. 

Thus began a few minuted in time that still makes my heart race. 

The parents around me began shouting things about Christian hypocrisy. One father said some words obviously fueled by wounds received from those in the faith who were wolves in sheep’s clothing.

The harsh words about the church and Christians flew from these young couples that we had grown to love and consider as adopted families over the summers. 

In one desperate effort to say something to stop the anger, I said to the ones standing closest to me that I am a Christian and what the coach did was not Christ-like and did not represent the Body of Christ. I said I was sorry that was the impression he had given them. 

And I felt like I died inside. 

The worst part was when I saw our grandson, who would never walk away from a prayer circle, struggle as he realized his team was angry, the parents were angry, the coach was angry and he was not sure what to do. 

And if that doesn’t describe the stress and agony and pain of being a Christian in this culture, I don’t know what does. 

We are constantly seeing abuse of the name of Christ in so many ways causing anger in those who do not know Him or understand what His Church is about. 

We are caught in the crossfire and it can feel like a dumpster fire blowing up in the middle of a normal day at the park. 

All I know to do is to keep showing up, keep close to Him and know HIs word. Pray, talk to Him, praise Him, be filled with gratitude and let it spill over in love for those around you. 

Remember always that you bear His name and His love and wear it well. Live in such a way that those who do not know Christ will see Him in our lives. 

Be compassionate towards those who do not know Him and wary of those who misrepresent Him. 

May God give us strength and grace, wisdom and discernment to navigate these days. 

It matters much.