My oldest son, David, loves baseball. He's good at it. Really good at it. Lightning fast - he didn't get his speed from me and, if he did, he didn't leave any behind. With an amazingly quick swing, he's a consummate lead-off hitter. That same speed and naturally good instincts serve him well as he patrols centerfield. He's a pleasure to watch on the diamond, and he loves the sport so much he gave up all other sports (he's a heckuva wide receiver/cornerback, too) to focus on his diamond skills.
My son David is also, much to my pride, delight and joy, a committed Christian. As a believer myself, my most pressing desire is to see all my children come into the Kingdom. Mid-way through his high school career, David has come to the conclusion that he's being called into the ministry. And he'll be good at it.
But here's where those two loves collided in a weird way, in a way that makes me all the more proud of this kid. Last August, after finishing off a spectacular first year on the J.V. team at his high school, and nearing the end of the American Legion and Teener seasons, David's left shoulder (he's a lefty) began to ache - badly. He figured it was just sore from playing on three baseball teams and figured he'd play through it. Didn't complain. Went at it. Then, with those three seasons complete, he was selected to play on a Fall American Legion team, a hand-picked group of players. With their first game approaching, the pain became too much for him. He 'fesseed up, we shut him down, and a medical excursion that hasn't fully ended began in ernest.Neurologists, Orthopedic Specialist, our family pediatrician, local doctors, doctors from the University of Pennsylvania, everybody saws him and everybody had an opinion. Meanwhile, the syndrome had moved beyond mere chronic pain. David literally could not lift his left arm above his shoulder. When he tried, his shoulder blade flared out, backwards from the natural movement you'd expect. Nerve damage, herniated discs, rotater cuff problems, you name it, we had a doctor that diagnosed it. Finally a spinal specialist at Penn figured out the limited range of motion was a product of the body, compensating for pain, retraining itself to do the wrong thing. David was able to overcome that, regain full use of his arm, and even go back and play JV Baseball gain this year. He even signed up for the Summer American Legion team, and made the cut, but the pain started in on him again. We shut him down.
David was frustrated and angry. This is a kid who dreamed of going to college on a baseball scholarship, and a kid who some baseball minds thought, if he continued to develop, had a chance at doing just that. A kid who played baseball year round, hung out with baseball players, just loved the sport. A kid who would freak out if we skipped our annual pilgrammage to Williamsport to see the Little League World Series. And he was growing increasingly concerned that he would never play again. That concern continues. And David was angry with himself, his condition, and with God.
But here we are almost a year after this strange dilema began, and David's done a lot of thinking. I know he takes his faith seriously. I know he takes his calling seriously. And the kid has hit me with enough wisdom and maturity over the years that I should never be suprised by it. But he still can blow me away. And he has.
David just returned from a two-week mission trip with the youth from our church. He spent a
week in Birmingham, Alabama building houses with Habitat for Humanity, and another week at a Christian youth camp in Panama City, Florida. He came back with a strong sense of accomplishment, and speaks of how much it meant to finish the house, and to meet and work with the family that will be living there. That's typical David. But what isn't so typical is what he told me, and told me ernestly. David informed his mother and me that he's past thinking he might not play baseball again. He doesn't think he's going to be able to. (I hold out hope that he's wrong about this, and we continue to encourage him). But he went on to say that he's okay with that. In fact, he tells us he's thankful for the injury. He credits the entire ordeal with bringing him closer to God, and in no uncertain terms let us know that that is what really matters.My jaw is still on the floor. I grew up in a Christian family, not a go through the motions, attend church on Sunday and forget about it until next Sunday Christian family, but a real-live, no-jive praying, Bible reading, walk the walk and talk the talk Christian family. But at fifteen I was as spiritually shallow as they come. There must have been a thousand things more pressing, more important to me, than my walk with God. But this kid of mine...man!
Hey, look. I'm not saying my son isn't going to make mistakes. I know he'll have bad decisions to contend with. He'll stumble. He'll fall. Afterall, that's the point of Christianity, right? We're saved by grace, not by anything we do. The fact that it's not about how good we are is one of the unique things that seperate Jesus's gift from all the world religions out there. He does the dirty work, we undeservedly reap the benefits. The change in our lives is a result of our salvation, not the cause of it. So I hope you won't sit around and wait for my son to do something wrong. He will. So will I. So will everyone. That's why we needed a Saviour in the first place, our own futility. But the fact that my kid can look at this dilema in his life at this young age the way he's looking at it...how can I be anything but blown away?
