Well, another season has come and gone. The greatest game in the world has once again crowned a champion and a city waiting decades for a championship gets to savor the taste of victory. Congrats.
The other day I saw a commercial advertising hi-def television and it used baseball as its marketing ploy. The man buys an HDTV and all of a sudden he experiences baseball in all new ways...his nostrils are singed and he is blown away by the blistering baseball action he now experiences due to the wonders of modern technology.
I don't know about you, but I have never experienced baseball in this way. I don't know of anyone who ever has. It is not that baseball is not exciting. It certainly has its moments that keep you on the edge of your seat. But, in the main, that isn't what baseball is about. This game is not about the fast-paced, it is about the methodical. It isn't about packing every second with movement, it is about creating space for reflection and conversation. Baseball is a game devoted to intricacy, not smashmouth action. To suggest that a TV can help you capture this kind of action is to suggest you can catch something that isn't there in the first place.
You cannot love baseball for the same reasons you love football. If you try to love baseball for the action, you will have little to love. Baseball is about stories. Baseball is about heros and believing in something bigger than yourself. Devotion to baseball teams is arguably unrivaled in American sport today. The traditions of baseball is where fans find their love of this game. Players, coaches, writers, and fans all find their place in the larger story of what this sport means to the history of our culture in America.
Baseball provides a common thread through your life. When I tune a radio to a baseball game, I remember falling asleep to Jack Buck or Mike Shannon on hot summer nights when I was a kid. Trying so hard to stay awake just to picture the game happening right before me. Loving baseball today connects me to my past, in a way, baseball provides the setting for my story.
How many of my memories are tied to baseball? How often has a silly game brought me incredible joy or tears? Why do I care so much about a game, or a team? Something inside me craves the feeling of belonging to something...even if I'm disappointed, it's safe because they come back next year. Until then...
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Friday, October 24, 2008
distractions
Sitting down to write today is hard, not because I don't have something to write, but because I have too many things to write. My heart has been on a roller coaster ride the last few weeks. I find myself discouraged by the chaotic world and the fear we all seem to breathe in like oxygen about crumbling markets and presidential hopefuls. But simultaneously, I am wrestling with what it means to be a child of God, a citizen of his kingdom, and oftentimes my spirits are bouyed. My idealism has taken hits over time, but God has faithfullly repaired the hits in the part of me I treasure most.
In the end, I know that being a part of what God is doing in the world is an ideal that I want, more than anything, to spend my life for. Not because I enjoy being on the right side of things, or take pleasure in trusting that it is the "winning" side. But rather, because I fully believe that God's kingdom is about restoring what seems so chaotic right now. It is about delving into the mess and restoring its beauty. It is about pushing back what is wrong and shining a light on what is good. God is working to bind up the broken, to befriend the lonely, to kneel down next to the broken down stepped ons of society and help them back up. When I read of Jesus and try my best to listen and understand him, I don't see someone bent on flashy argumentation or legislative evangelism, but someone who so embodied the compassion of his father that it seeped out of everything he did. When he said he came to declare the year of the Lord's favor, he announces that the kingdom is here and is for good things; hope, love, justice, redemption...that list goes on.
I have been speaking lately about having eyes to see God and to see his work happening before us, but how difficult it is to make that a priority. As I was reading this morning, I was struck by something I had not thought of before. I was struck that my participation in the kingdom is not just a matter of obedience, but it is the way I encounter what is good, true and beautiful. As I labor, I experience the goodness of God. So I need not fear the chaos...God give me eyes to see you clearly amidst my muddied life.
In the end, I know that being a part of what God is doing in the world is an ideal that I want, more than anything, to spend my life for. Not because I enjoy being on the right side of things, or take pleasure in trusting that it is the "winning" side. But rather, because I fully believe that God's kingdom is about restoring what seems so chaotic right now. It is about delving into the mess and restoring its beauty. It is about pushing back what is wrong and shining a light on what is good. God is working to bind up the broken, to befriend the lonely, to kneel down next to the broken down stepped ons of society and help them back up. When I read of Jesus and try my best to listen and understand him, I don't see someone bent on flashy argumentation or legislative evangelism, but someone who so embodied the compassion of his father that it seeped out of everything he did. When he said he came to declare the year of the Lord's favor, he announces that the kingdom is here and is for good things; hope, love, justice, redemption...that list goes on.
I have been speaking lately about having eyes to see God and to see his work happening before us, but how difficult it is to make that a priority. As I was reading this morning, I was struck by something I had not thought of before. I was struck that my participation in the kingdom is not just a matter of obedience, but it is the way I encounter what is good, true and beautiful. As I labor, I experience the goodness of God. So I need not fear the chaos...God give me eyes to see you clearly amidst my muddied life.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
a surprising hospitality
I guess that I really have not been all that surprised by my new life here in Brooklyn. If anything, it has been underwhelming. Underwhelming in the sense that I thought, or perhaps more accurately, most people thought I would think, that moving to the city would be the most overwhelming step I would take in life.
And yet it has not. Very quickly, this place has felt like home and the hustle/bustle of the city has not been intimidating. Instead, I have felt that the constant to and fro of the people in my new neighborhood has been life giving to me. I find myself invigorated by it.
The invigoration of the city seems to stem from the curiosity aroused by my new surroundings. If I sat on the same corner of the same street everyday for a month I am sure that, every day, I would learn significant lessons about my neighborhood and the way people choose to align their lives here. I am fascinated by the confluence of cultures; the irreligious and the devout, those that possess and those that desire, the young and the old, those that have called this place home all their life and those who may be freshly minted U.S. citizens...
There seems to be a sense of shared identity that people have simply by their geographical location that is uncommon in my experience. In that, despite the vast differences that are easy to observe in others, there are many common values and factors in play here as well. I had a conversation this summer where a particular man said to me something along the lines of "People all over think New Yorkers aren't friendly, but I have experienced the exact opposite. People here are the nicest, warmest and most open people I have met." Is this something more than hometown pride? After all, don't most people tout the distinctives of a town they come from? I did, after all, come from a town that is home to a certain insurance giant and a giant in the world of brilliant tasting steak burgers. We brag about that where I come from. Is this the same thing?
Perhaps not. The kindness of the people in my neighborhood is observable. In our world, just being able to see it is something. People open themselves to one another in ways I have not observed in the other contexts I have lived. Of course, there are stereotypical car horns and aged curmudgeons, but in the main people have an air of openness about them that seems to demonstrate what my friend had said.
Except for me. For some reason, people have walked by me a bit more coolly than they walk by my wife. My wife had a 15 minute conversation on the street with someone recently, instigated by that person. That has never happened to me, except in cases where I instigate or when I am with my son (but I am still convinced they are warm to him and not me).
But I have noticed an interesting thing. In the cases where I attempt to instigate some kind of warmth or openness with a passer-by; they respond very favorably, but it jolts them. So far, it is my experience that, in the main, people are surprised by the gesture coming from me. I have to ask a couple questions here. Are people surprised by the gesture of hospitality alone or are people surprised by the fact that the sender of said gesture is a young man? Whatever the reason, the relief and exuberance of the response to my "hello" helps me to confirm the suspicion that the cold passings I normally experience are not due to the people I walk by but perhaps due to the low expectations of what that person might receive in return.
I wonder what that means for what I spend myself doing everyday. Perhaps people really do crave real hospitable spaces where they can be known for who they are and where they can explore paths toward being more than they are so far, but they are afraid of the response they will get if they open themselves by reaching out with the first proverbial head nod or "hello." Perhaps the general lack of welcoming spaces in our world today insulates that longing in people so that it is hard to recognize.
"Come to me, all who are weary and heavy laden. Take up my yoke and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls." What does that mean for the people who follow Jesus?
And yet it has not. Very quickly, this place has felt like home and the hustle/bustle of the city has not been intimidating. Instead, I have felt that the constant to and fro of the people in my new neighborhood has been life giving to me. I find myself invigorated by it.
The invigoration of the city seems to stem from the curiosity aroused by my new surroundings. If I sat on the same corner of the same street everyday for a month I am sure that, every day, I would learn significant lessons about my neighborhood and the way people choose to align their lives here. I am fascinated by the confluence of cultures; the irreligious and the devout, those that possess and those that desire, the young and the old, those that have called this place home all their life and those who may be freshly minted U.S. citizens...
There seems to be a sense of shared identity that people have simply by their geographical location that is uncommon in my experience. In that, despite the vast differences that are easy to observe in others, there are many common values and factors in play here as well. I had a conversation this summer where a particular man said to me something along the lines of "People all over think New Yorkers aren't friendly, but I have experienced the exact opposite. People here are the nicest, warmest and most open people I have met." Is this something more than hometown pride? After all, don't most people tout the distinctives of a town they come from? I did, after all, come from a town that is home to a certain insurance giant and a giant in the world of brilliant tasting steak burgers. We brag about that where I come from. Is this the same thing?
Perhaps not. The kindness of the people in my neighborhood is observable. In our world, just being able to see it is something. People open themselves to one another in ways I have not observed in the other contexts I have lived. Of course, there are stereotypical car horns and aged curmudgeons, but in the main people have an air of openness about them that seems to demonstrate what my friend had said.
Except for me. For some reason, people have walked by me a bit more coolly than they walk by my wife. My wife had a 15 minute conversation on the street with someone recently, instigated by that person. That has never happened to me, except in cases where I instigate or when I am with my son (but I am still convinced they are warm to him and not me).
But I have noticed an interesting thing. In the cases where I attempt to instigate some kind of warmth or openness with a passer-by; they respond very favorably, but it jolts them. So far, it is my experience that, in the main, people are surprised by the gesture coming from me. I have to ask a couple questions here. Are people surprised by the gesture of hospitality alone or are people surprised by the fact that the sender of said gesture is a young man? Whatever the reason, the relief and exuberance of the response to my "hello" helps me to confirm the suspicion that the cold passings I normally experience are not due to the people I walk by but perhaps due to the low expectations of what that person might receive in return.
I wonder what that means for what I spend myself doing everyday. Perhaps people really do crave real hospitable spaces where they can be known for who they are and where they can explore paths toward being more than they are so far, but they are afraid of the response they will get if they open themselves by reaching out with the first proverbial head nod or "hello." Perhaps the general lack of welcoming spaces in our world today insulates that longing in people so that it is hard to recognize.
"Come to me, all who are weary and heavy laden. Take up my yoke and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls." What does that mean for the people who follow Jesus?
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