The much welcomed rainstorm, though ephemeral, lasted long enough take the sting off of the heat of the afternoon. The sun, though actually heading in the opposite direction of the rain clouds, has reemerged with a more early spring like feeling in the air. It has brought with it a literal lazy, hazy Sunday afternoon as well and the day’s in danger of slipping away.
Meanwhile, I heard a great sermon this morning from Pastor Dave. I really wish I could channel just a portion of the excitement he brings with him wherever he goes. Why? Because there seems to be a certain amount of energy I need to feel in order to feel like I can accomplish something other than laundry. It’s a voice that says, “work on it tomorrow when you’ve got more time and desire to get something done.”
I’m not a big baseball fan, but I’m familiar with the term “trying to hit one out of the park every time.” That’s a problem/ desire I can relate to quite frankly. I have two ideas for blogs that I’m looking forward to writing/exploring from what I heard/learned this morning in Pastor Dave’s sermon. But I’m tired, and the clock is ticking, and hitting a feeble single doesn’t seem worth the time to bother with. And I don’t want to strike out swinging, either!
The monster called Apathy is throwing knuckle balls at me, trying to force me out of the inning. That’s fine. The rain delay was refreshing, and I’m leaving soon to have dinner with a friend who is one of my spiritual strength and conditioning coaches. The day is not lost because training (ie church, fellowship, the Word, etc) helps me to be stronger when it’s imperative that I have to step up to the plate and deliver for myself or someone else.
The great home run hitters like Babe Ruth, Hank Aaron, and so on didn’t hit home runs every game or even every week, I’m sure. Even without checking their career stats, I can be sure they played a lot games and made impacts at different levels in those games where they didn’t hit a home run or even get a hit at all. They’re remembered by history for the number of homers they hit but they’re Hall of Fame members because they gave all they had to the game even when there was no glory to be had for hitting singles or making a routine play with their gloves. It’s the unnoticed routine plays that prepared them to make the big plays when called upon.
How does this fit my walk of faith? It’s been said elsewhere that character is defined as “doing the right thing when no one is looking.” I think there’s a lot of truth in that statement. Doing the little, or rather, little noticed things that are a part of our faith, like loving others, striving not to sin, just live a life of commitment makes us strong enough, or prepares us, when we are called to do the greater things. Keep swinging and a midst all the singles, the occasional ball will find its way out of the park. Not when I’m swinging for the fences necessarily but when that home run is needed for someone else even if to my eyes it merely looked like a blooper to left field.