I was an athlete in high school and college, and after assessing my son’s own interest and basic skills, I was not at all sure that he was ready for the tee ball diamond. My wife and I decided we would let him decide, and he wanted to play.
Thus began my baptism by immersion into the tee ball culture that up until recently I had only read about: parent arrested for taking a swing at umpire, coaches separated after threatening each other’s families, mother escorted from bleachers after spouting obscenities. We laugh at such ridiculous tales that happen in weird and distant places, but scaled-down versions proved to be common at tee ball games.
There was, of course, the team with five well-dressed coaches whose hard hitting dominated the league. There were the screams, of coaches and parents that made one reassess how much might really be at stake in these games. There were the meek and mild servants everywhere else in life who would mysteriously morph into monsters of the midway on the coaching diamond, and there were teams (like ours) that were a little short on experience, know-how, and God-given tee ball talent.
There was also beauty and joy. There were young children, in some cases very young, learning to play a sport for the first time, and learning how to play hard, do their best, and have fun. It was amazing to see, over a span of two to three months, how vastly each child improved. Some families struggled with the expense, but saw the advantages for their children. There were black and white, Hispanic and Latino, giving each other high fives, sitting next to each other in the dugout, and encouraging each other on the field.
According to official league rules, we are not supposed to keep score, but everybody does. And so our team was able to muster one “win” all season. As a competitor, I never enjoy losing. More talented and experienced teams would pile it on (it seemed to me), and all I could do was sit there and take it. Was there some form of sadistic pleasure in sending so many runners home in one inning? Unfortunately, we did not get to experience such a cornucopia of abundance.
Yet our kids hardly noticed such major injustices. They were not nearly so disturbed and jaded as I was; you might even say they were oblivious to what was so obvious to me. They ran out on the field to play and to get lost in the wonder of the game or the wonder of throwing sand on each other or the wonder of the buttercups that grow near the outfield or the wonder of racing each other for an errant ball; they weren’t focused on the wins and losses.
Recently I read that our Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) has lost nearly 70,000 members over the course of 2008; it is easy for the competitive and evangelical part of me to become jaded and to lose heart. Who wants to serve in a dying church? Who wants to play on a losing team? Who wants to serve in a church that has lost interest in taking the gospel to new people and places? Who wants to serve in a church that does not risk planting new churches? I have no good answer to these questions, struggles, and frustrations. But on the other hand, I also remember that undefeated, five-coach, high scoring team, and I remember how tightly wound and unhappy they looked out there. I remember how disappointed each player acted when he or she did not hit a home run or drive all the base runners in. Is it possible, even during this losing season, to not lose heart and to find joy in our church’s ministry and mission?
Ministry and discipleship in service to Jesus Christ, Karl Barth reminds us, takes on “the nature of a game or a song” more than it does “work or warfare.”1 Even during our losing seasons, the “serious” work of ministry can only be play. As much as I hate losing, it may just be a more cruciform place to be than joyless success. My three-year-old’s tee ball team taught me that. And so I look forward to next season, to see if we have gotten any better, to see if God has helped us to grow, and to enjoy another year of children at play.
Chris Currie is pastor of the Calypso Church in Calypso, N.C.
1Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics vol. III/4 (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1961), 77.
