The Game Ain't Over
Yesterday in church, the message moved me to tears. Okay, I was sobbing. So was the person next to me and half of the people in the church. No, it was not an “I feel Jesus in my soul” moment. Nothing that profound or . . . cliché. The message was about the power of discouragement. And powerful it is. We have ALL felt discouraged. Many of you are feeling discouraged now. You’ve worked hard; yet, are denied a promotion year after year. You can’t seem to get a good-footing with your spouse or children. You’ve received rejection letter after rejection letter, denied positive or useful feedback at every turn. Part of you thinks, “Why bother? After all, all my efforts come up short. It would be easier to just plop down and pout.” Is it really easier? Really? Is it easier to walk around numb? Is it easier to pretend you don’t care? Is it easier to deny your attraction to two small words in your mind: What and If?
The pastor said, “Discouragement ALWAYS precedes destruction.” I agree. It is when you give up that dreams turn to gnarled bones decaying in your mind. It is when you give up that the seeds of jealousy and envy take root. It is when you give up that your relationships wither and die. It is when you give up that you stop looking for the next job, the better job. It is when you give up that you cheat the world and yourself.
Is it hard to stand before a mountain, knowing you must move it with your hands? Yes. Very hard. Very daunting. But if you move the mountain one rock at a time you can do it. It WILL move.
The story that brought us all to tears was a simple one. An eight-year-old boy, small for his age, played on a baseball team with boys nine and ten-year-old. For the final game of the season, his family came to watch him play, sixty relatives in all, from all over the state. The boy was placed in right field . . . never a good sign. And he always struck out. In this game, it was the bottom of the nineth, the bases were loaded, two outs hung on the board, and he was up to bat. On one side of the field, the parents for the other team yelled for him to strike out. On one side of the field, his family yelled for him to knock the ball out of the park. The pitcher looked seven-feet tall, menacing, and had fangs for teeth. In short, there was pressure. The pitcher released the ball. “Strike!” the catcher yelled. The boy swallowed hard, glanced at his family; they clung to the fence, cheering, encouraging. The pitcher released the ball, again. “Strike two!” Brow furrowed, the boy said, “Enough.” He decided to change his strategy: swing at the ball just as the pitcher releases. The ball was released, he swung. “Strike three! Game over!” The other side of the field erupted with cheers. The boy ran back to the bench, pulled his cap down and sobbed. He listened to the celebration, and listened to it slowly thin as people drove away. Then he heard, “Son, the game ain’t over.” He sobbed louder. “Son, the game ain’t over.” He looked up and saw his entire family on the field, his father on the pitcher’s mound. “Son, the game ain’t over,” his father said, again. Reluctantly, the boy walked out on the field, took the bat his uncle offered him. His dad pitched. He missed. His dad pitched again and again. Fifteen times. Then it happened. The bat and ball connected, ball soaring high and far. His aunt pointed him to first base. His blind uncle, the second baseman, encouraged him to run to third base. He ran and ran. Someone had the ball. He debated stopping, but kept going. He slid home. His dad yelled, “You’re safe! You’re always safe at home!” The boy ran to his dad, wrapped his arms around him. “See? I told you, the game ain’t over.”
Hugs and Encouragement!
* Story told by Pastor Ray Johnston, Bayside Church