Pastors

SQUEEZE PLAY AT HOME

One pastor’s toughest call.

One pastor’s toughest call.

He’s never really asked for much. He’s not the kind of boy who thinks about what you should get him for his next birthday or how much you owe him. He is happy with a hug and an occasional wrestling match with Dad.

That’s what made the whole thing so ugly. If he were the type of kid who nagged or complained all the time, it wouldn’t have been so traumatic.

In the spring of ’89, he asked for one thing: he wanted to play little league baseball.

His request surprised me; he wasn’t particularly overpowering at the plate or nimble in the field. Surely, I thought, he’ll change his mind after he realizes his brother wasn’t interested in playing this year. But no, he still wanted to play.

“No problem,” I told him. “You can play ball this year.”

I smiled along with his mom as he ran down the hall clapping and laughing. He was surprised and excited when I took him to Costco to try out the aluminum bats and leather gloves (he hadn’t thought to ask me to buy him a bat and glove). My heart felt boyish as he described in detail his strategy for improving his batting average and his preference for being assigned to a team that wore his beloved Dodger Blue.

His requests were so easy and his attitude so pure-even on that day a few weeks later when I sat across from him in the living room. Facing him was more difficult than I anticipated.

“What’s up. Dad?” he asked as he bounced and flopped sideways into the blue chair. Normally I’d have reminded him not to do that and to sit straight forward in the chair, but not today.

“I’ve made a mistake that directly affects you,” I told him. He stared at me with those trusting, curious hazel eyes. “I didn’t get you signed up for baseball in time, and now the teams are full. You won’t be able to play ball this year.”

I wish he had lashed out at me or done something to show that, if only for that moment, he was worthy of my neglect. But the simple-hearted, 10-year-old boy who never has asked for much just sat there and stared at me. It was, I’m sure, the same look Jesus gave Peter after he had heard his disciple deny him on the night of his betrayal.

“How do you feel about this?”

“I really wanted to play. Dad,” he answered in a half-whisper, daring not to blink his eyes for fear of tears.

“I blew it. I’m sorry, Scudder.”

“I know, Dad,” he said softly. And, looking down, he got up from the blue chair, walked to his room, and quietly closed the door behind him.

Hate is a strong emotion. It’s an ugly word with dark ramifications. But if I ever hated myself and my “call to ministry,” it was that evening. I had been so busy “pastoring” and “succeeding” I had forgotten to care for my own son.

I failed that day. I broke his heart. I gave him a reason to despise the church and resent the Lord. He never really has asked for much, and little is exactly what he got from his dad that day.

May God have mercy on me-and him!

* * *

Contrition can come easy. The “acts befitting repentance” can be something else. Even when guilt has left its unmistakable impression, doing the right thing the next time isn’t automatic. Consider the sequel to the episode above.

I could be working on my sermon, I said to myself, or calling on that new couple that has been visiting the church. Either of those would have been acceptable options for the use of a Sunday afternoon, easily affirmed by both my superintendent and the church council. But instead I felt cornered by the competing demands of what I needed to do and what I should do.

“Wanna play a game of catch. Dad?” the boy asked. “I’ll pretend I’m a major league pitcher and you can pretend you’re my all-star catcher. You can call balls and strikes for me.”

In this dungeon of conflicting priorities, the Holy Spirit paused to listen and see whether or not anything at all had been learned from the last challenge this son and his love for baseball had afforded.

Sensing the hesitation and his impending failure to lure his father outside, the boy tried to sweeten the pot.

“Tell you what, Dad. You can pitch to me. You can throw as hard as you want to ’cause I can catch just about anything.” He paused a moment before trying to close the sale. “It’ll be fun, Dad.”

More out of paternal obligation than honest desire, the tired pastor took his mitt from the outstretched hand. The youngster exploded out the back door to set up a makeshift infield with the house as a backstop.

The reluctant all-star took his preferred position behind home plate.

“Play ball,” he mumbled with little emotion. Then he loosened his necktie, flipped it over his shoulder, gathered his slacks at the thigh, squatted down, and asked for the first pitch from a grinning, wide-eyed young rookie pitcher.

“Ball one, low!” barked the umpire/catcher as he tossed the ball back in the direction of the old shoe that served as a pitching rubber. And the game was on.

The two went on, pitching, catching, shaking off signs, and visiting at the mound only to be chastised by the umpire-the boy in his dirty socks and the man in his shirt and tie. The rookie pitcher and the old all-star catcher were enjoying each other as never before. But then, in the bottom of the ninth . . .

“The bases are loaded, Scudder. You can’t afford to walk this guy or you’ll walk in the tying run. You have to pitch to him.” And then, after throwing five good pitches but only seeing two called for strikes, the pitcher called “time.” As the catcher trotted out to the mound, the boy couldn’t help but grin.

“Let’s throw this bum the best fastball he’s ever seen,” said the catcher. “Keep it low and away and throw it as hard as you can. Okay?”

The answer came back through a smile as wide as the infield. “No problemo. This guy is history.”

Neither of them really knew what went wrong. The stretch looked good and the delivery seemed smooth. But somehow the ball decided to sail wildly toward the backstop. The catcher employed every muscle trying to reach the errant pitch, evidenced by the fresh grass stains on his shirt and slacks. But this fast ball eluded even an all-star. The ball bounced once and then crashed through two panes of glass and into the basement.

A happy, carefree catcher dove for the ball, but the tumble must have reminded him that he never really wanted to play in the first place. He looked back to see his son fall to his knees and cover his head in grief. So far as the man was concerned, the boy had assumed the proper position.

Repairing the window would cost both money and time. The man had an abundance of neither. He could already feel the passion working its way from his stomach to his mouth. And this wild young pitcher would receive its full effect. He would be yelled at, sent to his room, and told to put away his glove for a week!

But as he turned and opened his mouth, something caused him to pause. Maybe it was compassion, maybe guilt. Maybe the earlier contrition was being applied.

Whatever it was, the pastor suddenly realized his son, who could have been riding his bike, watching television, or playing with other kids, had asked for time with his dad.

As the man viewed his son, still in a fetal position, another image came to mind. It was the distant memory of a ball game on Los Palmas Street where Mike Dipietro was trying to stretch a single into a double. In his haste to get the ball to second, a younger version of the man threw it straight through the middle of Mr. and Mrs. Shields’ new station wagon. He expected a good whipping from his own dad. After all, he had been warned about playing ball in the street. He received, instead, a recommendation that he be sure he was properly set before he threw the ball the next time.

Only a second had passed since the ball had crashed through the basement window.

With his son still folded and quivering on the grass, the angry, busy, pastor/father picked himself up off the ground, pondering what he should say.

He grabbed a spare ball, walked back to the dog dish that functioned as home plate, gathered his grass-stained slacks at the thigh, and resumed the catcher’s position.

The boy looked up and saw the ball lobbed back to him.

“Ball four,” said the catcher/umpire. “Next batter.”

The game continued, but the pastor wasn’t aware of just how long. He was lost in the enjoyment of the sound of the hardball being sucked into his mitt and his son’s laughter after a perfect pitch over the middle of the dog dish was called a ball.

And each time he watched his son, with dirty socks and wrinkled cap, come to a stretch to check a ghost runner’s lead, the catcher/umpire/pastor/dad could hear the clang of another chain as it fell to the infield.

When the game finally ended, in extra innings, he realized that the request he’d seen as another chain of his enslavement had actually become his catapult into freedom.

-Art Greco

Tigard Covenant Church

Tigard, Oregon

116 SUMMER/93

Copyright © 1993 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

Also in this issue

The Leadership Journal archives contain over 35 years of issues. These archives contain a trove of pastoral wisdom, leadership skills, and encouragement for your calling.

WRAPPING UP A LONG PASTORATE

ANIMAL INSTINCTS

PEOPLE IN PRINT

ICONS EVERY PASTOR NEEDS

WHY WON’T I PRAY WITH MY WIFE?

TIME TRACKING

REGARDING RESULTS

GOOD FENCES MAKE GOOD PASTORS

FROM THE EDITORS

KEEPING CONNECTED TO SPIRITUAL POWER

THE POWER OF COMMUNION

STORIES FOR THOSE WHO MOURN

10 Reasons Not to Resign

IDEAS THAT WORK

TESTS OF A LEADER’S CHARACTER

IDEAS THAT WORK

COMEBACK

THE LEGAL LANDSCAPE

A STRUCTURE RUNS THROUGH IT

GREAT EXPECTATIONS

MINISTERIAL BUNIONS

A GREAT PLAINS MINISTRY

CONTENDING FOR THE TRUTH...IN CHURCH PUBLICITY

FROM THE EDITORS

WHEN NOT TO CONFRONT

ZONED OUT

THE LANDMARK SERMON

WHEN TO SPEAK IN PUBLIC

The Unique Network of a Small Church

GOING TO YOUR LEFT

HOW PASTORS PRACTICE THE PRESENCE

CLOSE UP

TO VERIFY

A CLEARER CALL FOR COMMITMENT

ADDING BREADTH AND DEPTH

WHEN'S IT'S A SIN TO ASK FOR FORGIVENESS

SUCCEEDING A PATRIARCH

WEIGHING THOSE WEDDING INNOVATIONS

PASTORING STRONG-WILLED PEOPLE

Case Study: The Entrenched and Ineffective Worker

A WOUNDED PASTOR'S RESCUE

THE SLY SABOTEUR

TO VERIFY …

WHAT THE WORLD NEEDS NOW

CLASSIC CREATIVITY

THE TOP-10 “LAST WORDS IN YOUR CHURCH”

MAKING SENSE OF THE TRAUMA

Standing in the Crossfire

BENEFITS OF AN INTENTIONAL INTERIM

THE BACK PAGE

WARS YOU CAN'T WIN

UNLIKELY ALLIES

THE HIGH-TURNOVER SMALL CHURCH

Handing Your Baby to Barbarians

TO ILLUSTRATE…

PEOPLE IN PRINT

TO VERIFY…

ARE PASTORS ABUSED?

BUILDING YOUR ALL-VOLUNTEER ARMY

HEART TO HEART PREACHING

HIDDEN EFFICIENCIES OF PRAYER

IDEAS THAT WORK

WHEN YOU TAKE A PUBLIC STAND

REKINDLING VISION IN AN ESTABLISHED CHURCH

WAYS TO SHAKE OFF THE DUST

WHAT’S DRAMA DOING IN CHURCH?

THE DANGER OF DETAILS

THE BACK PAGE

NEW AND NOTEWORTHY

A POWERFUL PRESENCE

PRACTICING THE ORIGINAL PASSION

MAKING PEACE IN A WAR ZONE

THE WELL-FED IMAGINATION

RAISING YOUR CREATIVITY QUOTIENT

LET THERE BE WIT & WISDOM, WEEKLY

TO ILLUSTRATE

THE PREVENT DEFENSE

FROM THE EDITORS

THE BACK PAGE

SAINTWATCHING

CAN YOU TEACH AN OLD CHURCH NEW TRICKS?

Spiritual Disciplines for the Undisciplined

BREAKING THE GRUMBLERS’ GRIP

WHEN YOUR CHILDREN PAY THE PRICE

THE CONCILIATION CAVALRY

DANCING WITH DEFEAT

IDEAS THAT WORK

THE TIGHTER ZONING DEFENSES

BUSTING OUT OF SERMON BLOCK

PEOPLE IN PRINT

How to Spend the Day in Prayer

REVERSING CHURCH DECLINE

THE JOY OF INEFFICIENT PRAYER

IF YOU HAVE A GRIPE, PRESS 2

CULTIVATING CLOSENESS

WHEN YOU FEEL LIKE A FOREIGNER

BAPTISM IN A COFFIN

SONGS THAT FIT THE FLOW

FROM THE EDITORS

THE QUEST FOR CONTENTMENT

THE CUTTING-EDGE TRADITIONAL CHURCH

CAN SERVANTS SAY NO?

PEOPLE IN PRINT

THE BACK PAGE

CARING FOR THE CONFUSED

A MODEL WORSHIP SET

WIRING YOURSELF FOR LIGHTNING

A Pastor's Quarrel with God

DIAGNOSING YOUR HEART CONDITION

View issue

Our Latest

Public Theology Project

The Star of Bethlehem Is a Zodiac Killer

How Christmas upends everything that draws our culture to astrology.

News

As Malibu Burns, Pepperdine Withstands the Fire

University president praises the community’s “calm resilience” as students and staff shelter in place in fireproof buildings.

The Russell Moore Show

My Favorite Books of 2024

Ashley Hales, CT’s editorial director for print, and Russell discuss this year’s reads.

News

The Door Is Now Open to Churches in Nepal

Seventeen years after the former Hindu kingdom became a secular state, Christians have a pathway to legal recognition.

The Holy Family and Mine

Nativity scenes show us the loving parents we all need—and remind me that my own parents estranged me over my faith.

Why Christians Oppose Euthanasia

The immorality of killing the old and ill has never been in question for Christians. Nor is our duty to care for those the world devalues.

China’s Churches Go Deep Rather than Wide at Christmas

In place of large evangelism outreaches, churches try to be more intentional in the face of religious restrictions and theological changes.

Wire Story

Study: Evangelical Churches Aren’t Particularly Political

Even if members are politically active and many leaders are often outspoken about issues and candidates they support, most congregations make great efforts to keep politics out of the church when they gather.

Apple PodcastsDown ArrowDown ArrowDown Arrowarrow_left_altLeft ArrowLeft ArrowRight ArrowRight ArrowRight Arrowarrow_up_altUp ArrowUp ArrowAvailable at Amazoncaret-downCloseCloseEmailEmailExpandExpandExternalExternalFacebookfacebook-squareGiftGiftGooglegoogleGoogle KeephamburgerInstagraminstagram-squareLinkLinklinkedin-squareListenListenListenChristianity TodayCT Creative Studio Logologo_orgMegaphoneMenuMenupausePinterestPlayPlayPocketPodcastRSSRSSSaveSaveSaveSearchSearchsearchSpotifyStitcherTelegramTable of ContentsTable of Contentstwitter-squareWhatsAppXYouTubeYouTube