In our spare bedroom I keep a baseball in a display case. It isn’t a homerun ball from a MLB game. It isn’t even a foul ball from a MLB game. It is a homerun ball from a little league baseball game in the mid 80’s. I still remember the pitch (a failed attempt at a slider that hung just over the middle of the plate). As I swung at the pitch I dropped my left shoulder (even though I knew better) and popped the ball high into the air, but the hit was just long enough to clear the fence. I also remember where the ball went out of the park (just to the right of a big tree outside the fence in right field) and my dad retrieving the ball for safe keeping.
We spent many afternoons practicing baseball and learning the rules of the game. We learned how to throw and how to hit (even though I didn’t learn that part too well) and how catch. We learned strategies for winning, and we learned the correct way to play a game. Our coaches taught us how to be orthodox, American baseball players. And, somehow we never lost our love for the game.
I have been in church and around church most of my life. Many people have invested their lives in me in attempts to teach me correct doctrine and how church and life is supposed to be lived, and I am still learning. Through the years I have seen people learn the “correct” way to do church, but lose their love for the church in the process.
It is always sad to see a kid loose their love for a game because of lifeless recitation of rules. That’s the point where we say, “I just don’t want to play anymore.”
I must confess that there are days when I loose my love for the church. I can get so bogged down in doing church and maintaining correct doctrine that I forget what church is all about. I forget the joy of seeing God hit a homerun and letting me run the bases.
Doctrine (the rules of the game) is important. In fact it is essential to a healthy church. But, doctrine without passion is a meaningless existence.
But I have this against you, that you have left your first love. Revelation 2:4
We spent many afternoons practicing baseball and learning the rules of the game. We learned how to throw and how to hit (even though I didn’t learn that part too well) and how catch. We learned strategies for winning, and we learned the correct way to play a game. Our coaches taught us how to be orthodox, American baseball players. And, somehow we never lost our love for the game.
I have been in church and around church most of my life. Many people have invested their lives in me in attempts to teach me correct doctrine and how church and life is supposed to be lived, and I am still learning. Through the years I have seen people learn the “correct” way to do church, but lose their love for the church in the process.
It is always sad to see a kid loose their love for a game because of lifeless recitation of rules. That’s the point where we say, “I just don’t want to play anymore.”
I must confess that there are days when I loose my love for the church. I can get so bogged down in doing church and maintaining correct doctrine that I forget what church is all about. I forget the joy of seeing God hit a homerun and letting me run the bases.
Doctrine (the rules of the game) is important. In fact it is essential to a healthy church. But, doctrine without passion is a meaningless existence.
But I have this against you, that you have left your first love. Revelation 2:4
Comments
I remember coaching 11 and 12 year old All-stars. My nephew had raw talent, talent enough to see him through high school and even a walk on opportunity at a Junior College, but with that talent was a love of the game. On that same team was a young man with all the mechanics, taught by instructors, everything was mechanical. While not as graceful, or at times as successful (at age 11-12) as the kids such as my nephew, he had passion for the game. By his junior year in high school (the last time I saw him play) his infield play was fluid and seamless, the stiff mechanics gone, the individual steps, now one smooth motion.
Mixed in with these two were several others who despite talent and skills, never reached much higher. Looking back, it all boiled down to whether or not they loved the game, or simply played the game.
The way I see it. You leave us all with a question we should ask ourselves. "Despite our gifts or lack thereof, do we have the passion to carry us forward?"
Thanks; something else for me to work on...;>)
I'm glad I could give you something else to work on.