"The Base Coach"
A sermon by Kevin Patton for Edgewood PC, Birmingham, AL
Fourth Sunday in Lent, March 14, 2010
Text: Luke 15:1-3,11b-32
Since Monday, when Sid and I first thought up this little switch-aroo, two things have been on my mind. One is the Parable of the Prodigal Son, that Sid just read from the Gospel of Luke. And the second is T-ball.
This may be the fourth week of Lent, but it also was the first week of the spring T-ball season. And having coached my two older children through entry-level T-Ball and into baseball, softball and other sports and activities, I’m now making my last lap around the T-ball diamond with youngest son Ben, who you know as an energetic kindergartner here in the sanctuary, and up at fellowship suppers as an OREO cookie enthusiast.
Ben’s first T-ball game was Tuesday night, and for an hour, I had the best job in the world. I was the First Base Coach for a little league T-ball team. For those of you unfamiliar or a bit removed from the little league scene, T-ball is like baseball, but without a pitcher. Instead of the ball being pitched, its placed on a “T,” and each child takes their swing at the stationary ball.
Now there are no steroids in T-ball and often it takes several (sometimes many), attempts for these young sluggers to connect with the ball. The good news in T-ball is that eventually, they all do hit the ball. No one strikes out. Every kid hears the crack (or ping) of the aluminum bat on the ball, hears the spectators cheer, and takes off running toward first base.
This is where I come in. As the First Base Coach, I’m standing next to the bag, just outside of the first base line, encouraging the young runner towards first base. Because the batting helmets they wear are often several sizes too big and bouncing around on top of their small bodies, they look like bobble head dolls weaving their way down the base path.
Safely aboard at first, now comes my favorite scene in sports. You see, this is when I get to congratulate them, and give them a high five and pat on the back. While we stand there together waiting for the next crack (or ping) of the bat, there is also a moment for a brief chat and to settle some nerves. Those conversations usually go something like this:
- Where are you going next, buddy? (shrug, look of confusion)
- How about over there, to second base? (nod head)
- How are you gonna get there? (shrug, look of confusion)
- Are you gonna run as fast as a cheetah, or as fast as a hippo?
Then they finally crack a smile and promise to run like a cheetah, or racecar, or T-Rex. And then they are off, and I get another player to congratulate and send on their way.
Now, I’ve also been thinking about this “Parable of the Prodigal Son.” It has long been one of my favorites, and might be one of yours as well. This past fall, we kicked off our Friday morning men’s Bible study with a group discussion of the parable and of a book that Henri Nouwen wrote about it called The Return of the Prodigal Son. 1
Now the plot and characters of this story are simple:
- There is a father and 2 sons.
- The younger son leaves, squanders his money and returns home.
- The Father embraces his returning son and throws a big party.
- The older son (who stayed home) gets angry.
- And the story ends with the Father urging his older son to come
inside and join the party.
Together, our group talked about what it was like to be a rebel or Rule Breaker (represented by the younger son) and what it was like to be a Rule Follower (represented by the older son). It seems like all of us can identify with one or the other, and perhaps at various times in our lives, with both of them. It is through these two siblings that we access and put ourselves into the story.
But the “Parable of the Prodigal Son,” Nouwen instructed us, isn’t really a story about the sons, it’s about the Father. The Father is our heavenly Father, and Jesus describes him in a way that surprised them back then, and continues to surprise us, 2000 years later. The Father surprises us by running out to his lost children, forgiving their sins, and celebrating their return.
You might chalk it up to Spring Fever, but as I picture these two brothers and their Father, my thoughts keep coming back to the ball field. The younger son sets off wanting to make his way in the world. I see that same desire in the eyes of those six-year-olds, as grab their bat, bite their lip, and walk up to the plate dreaming of hitting a home run (again wearing that over-sized batting helmet). Now occasionally they do get a hold of one, but I’ve also seen plenty of hopes dashed by dribblers and ground-outs. They may not end up in an actual pigsty (like that younger brother in the story did), but from the look of their uniforms and on their faces, you might think they had.
The rule-following, older brother in our story also faces disappointment. He’s disappointed and resentful over the return of his brother. And I also see that kind of disappointment at the ball field, in heated arguments over whose turn it is to play first base next, or drank up all the Gatorade or ate the snacks. The older brother’s words reveal his hurt. He calls his brother “this son of yours.” Have any of you parents out there ever been approached with that dreaded phrase: “You won’t believe what your son (or what your daughter) did today?” When it starts like that, you know it is not going to be good…. We see, that by holding onto rivalry and onto his grudges, the older son distances himself from both his brother and his Father. To him, his brother is a sinner. And to him his Father is a slave driver. As the story ends, it seems ironic that its the rule-following older brother that is standing outside, about to miss the big party….
I can see some of our lawyers and elders out there (our very own,
modern day, Scribes and Pharisees)… I can see you asking – “OK, I
can see the younger and older sons out there on the ball field (and
here in the sanctuary) but where is the Father? Where is God in the
rough and tumble world of T-ball, or in a congregation like this
one?
Nouwen suggests that if we’ll just look, we’ll see God here, there,
and everywhere. We’ll see God in the young teammates who together
celebrate or lament each hit or out. We’ll see God at work right
here as we pass in our prayer requests and together pray for those
among us who are grieving, or sick, or injured, or in harm’s way.
And we’ll see God, as together, we give thanks and praise for our
blessings and many happy returns.
I’d like to share with you two little secrets about coaching (at least about coaching the bases in T-ball) that I’ve learned, and then will wrap this up.
First, have you ever been told, that if you’re nervous about public speaking, you should picture your audience in their underwear? (I promise that I’m not doing that now). But, I do have some similar advice about coaching. If you feel uncertain or nervous about getting out on the baseline and coaching up your Christian brothers and sisters, picture them as bobble head six-year-olds. (And I am doing that right now). Let’s take Pastor Sid, for example. Sid, you’ve got me by a few years and by lots of wisdom. But, as I picture you as bobble head, T-ball player, I can see that you are still (grey-hair, hearing aids and all), you’re still a child of God. And you are still a child to God. And that is also true for all of you bobble heads out there, no matter what your age, or how dirty your uniform may be, we are all beloved children of God. Beloved children, who need affirmation, need support, need prayers, need love, and the occasional high five.
And the second secret to being a good base coach, (and I’d appreciate it if you kept this one between us) – you don’t have to be a good player to be a good coach. You really don’t. Even if you feel like you’ve never hit it out of the infield and tripped every time you ran down the base path as a player, you still have everything that it takes to be a compassionate base coach. In fact, you’re likely to be a better coach than someone who doesn’t know, or can’t remember, the sting of that long and lonely trot back to the dugout.
I’m not going to suggest that Jesus ever actually coached first base… but I think he would have made a great one. Can you imagine, Jesus, out of his robes and in the team t-shirt and ball cap, maybe losing a sandal as he waves us around the bases and sends us home?
Did you notice that Jesus leaves himself out of the Parable of the Prodigal Son? Henri Nouwen suggests that he did this, so that we, ourselves, could put him in. Jesus is the older brother who gets it, he’s the true older son to our Father in heaven. You see this in the words of the Father – “Son, you are always with me and all that is mine is yours.” Jesus is sent by the Father to offer himself as the way home to all his wayward brothers and sisters. When we find ourselves in a pigsty, far from home, Jesus comes for us and leads us back. When our resentment covers our eyes and keeps us in the dark, away from celebrating the pleasures of life, Jesus brings us God’s invitation to come inside.
We, the Church, are Christ’s body in the world. And just as it was Christ’s mission to waive the wayward home, it is our calling to step up to the first base line. You see, our brothers and sisters are up at bat. Sometimes, their gonna knock it over the fence, and together we’ll cheer and praise God. Other times, they’ll need to be picked up and dusted off, as the storms of life swirl by.
This little Church is full of amazing base coaches. Just look around you. When I have tripped, you have comforted me. When my helmet has fallen over my eyes, and I didn’t know where I was going, you called out to me. At times, your voices, whether you’ve known it or not, have kept me going, and gave me direction.
I can’t wait for our next T-ball game and giving out high fives and pats on the back to Ben and his team mates. And I look forward to the same with you.
I picture our God, our compassionate Heavenly Father, waiting for us at that heavenly home plate in the sky. I know he’ll come running out to us with a welcoming embrace, and call for a celebration. Until that day, Jesus has shown us that we have each other (we are Christ’s body and ambassadors of the Most High). It is both our calling and a great joy of life, to take our place on the base path, to clap and to cheer, to encourage and to console, to give high fives and pats on the back, and rest our hands in blessing on the shoulders of our brothers and sisters.
Now to the One
who by the power at work within us
is able to do far more abundantly
than all we ask or imagine,
to God be the glory in the church
and in Christ Jesus
to all generations, forever and ever. Ephesians 3:20, 21
1 Nouwen, Henri J.M., The Return of The Prodigal Son, Doubleday, 1992.