Monday, November 08, 2010

Of Sandlots and Cathedrals

This post continues the conversation Glynn Young, Nancy Rosback and I are having over the book Mere Churchianity. They always have a head start on me, so be sure check out their thoughts on Chapter 13, "Leaving Behind the Church-Shaped Life" over at Faith, Fiction, Friends and Bend the Page. Melissa at In Silence, Humming Softly has also joined the discussion so be sure to check out her thoughts as well.

Michael Spencer, being a baseball fan, uses the analogy of Big League ball versus his childhood playing in empty lots. He notes that despite all the scandals (steroids, salaries, sex), it is the kid's game that captures our imagination and fanhood. As soon as the game under the lights and in the cathedrals to the game forget this, then interest will wane and seats will empty. The same is true of the Church, that it is the Jesus-shaped Spirituality that exists inside each of us, outside of the "big-time" walls, that drives us to the Church. And like Major League baseball, churches who forget this may fill the pews for a time, but will find many leaving for the purity of the sandlot.

To keep myself out of trouble, and being a huge baseball fan myself, I'm going to continue with the analogy. I grew up watching Minor League baseball. Rookie level as a matter of fact, where "kids" fresh out of high school would try and show of their talents, earning measly pay, and hoping to someday earn their "cup of coffee". I lived far from any major market team so I relied on TBS and WGN to watch the Braves and Cubs, respectively, and the network Game of the Week. I would follow my favorite players through the box score in the local paper. When traveling to visit family, we would catch a big-league game if we could and the enormity of "the Show" was magical compared with the rookie league I was used to watching. The players were faster, their moves more crisp and polished, their talents far surpassing the kids scraping by at the lower level.

I had my favorite players, enshrined with posters, jerseys, and baseball cards. I didn't care about the value of cards, I would trade away a valuable rookie for a card of my hero (but I at least knew not to put them in my bicycle spokes). The first World Series I remember watching, I laid out all my cards from each team and I followed the game using the cards to keep score.

Times changed and I grew up. I realized that none of the players I watched in the minors made it to the majors. An expansion team came to my region. Still not close, but drivable. TV expanded, ESPN gained in viewership, and I could catch a game every night. The Internet came and instead of following my favorite players through the "simple" box score, I now could follow their "splits" and "advanced metrics". The Internet and Cable TV enabled the 24-hour news cycle and sports followed suit. I could find out what my favorite player was doing at almost any moment. They would soon become unable to hide from the public eye, so every misstep, every harsh word, every bad decision would be highlighted for the world to see. And the magic of the game, the childhood awe, waned.

Today I live walking distance to a high-A club and I love taking my son to watch the game at this level. I go to Major League games on occasion, but the price and the publicity for the most part has discouraged it. There's something about watching these kids trying to make their way that maintains the childhood purity I remember.

So what does this have to do with the church? The megachurch, the spiritual superstars the big crowds can drown out the child-like awe we should have before Jesus for the sake of the show. Just as the Internet as created instant experts out of every fan who voices an opinion, so it has for Christians and the blogosphere  who have no expertise other than their opinion (myself included). And I think myself, like many who relate to Michael Spencer in this book, are longing for Jesus-shaped Spirituality that can be found in the sandlots, being played by kids, free from all the trappings, glitz, and glam. When Michael was sharing this analogy, I was thinking about how the game is the same, whether played in the Major League cathedrals or at a beat up Little League field. Jesus is the same, whether worshiped within walls filled with thousands, or in a beat up old church filled with a dozen. And in both places, Jesus is found by the awestruck child who just loves the game.

“Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven" (Matthew 18:3)

6 comments:

Glynn said...

Where I grew up (post-World-War-II suburbia), we had a field where we played sandlot baseball. That's what kids did, and it had excitement and passion and was, as Spencer says in the book, a breeding ground for future fans of major league baseball. Today's Little League has changed a lot of that passion, because the adults took over and winning became more important than the game.

Ithink back to my very early days as a Christian, and the passion and excitement. It's much the same thing.

n. davis rosback said...

The game is the same, but the expectations and the hearts have changed. and not everyone can play, not everyone is welcome.
So in that, the game does change into something else.

Our hearts, change the game for ourself and for others.

Only the ones that are good enough, that play the game well, are allowed to take part in playing in the big leagues. Otherwise you pay to sit and watch.

It does become to be about the show, the money, the growth. And yes, the hearts change in those that run the show as well as those that pay to sit and watch. Or watch on tv.

Everyone wants and needs to be a part, for the Love of it.
Sometimes we have to look very hard to find what love means again.
Sometimes we learn more meanings to the word love. And then we can see that game again through the eyes of Love.

You are right in that everyone must keep there hearts like the children that are doing something because of the Love in it.

The game is the same, as when we were a child, and we can see that game, if our hearts can look through the eyes of Love.

No matter where we are, we can look at things through the eyes of Love. We can see what is wrong, and we can still Love Jesus,and love others.

The sand lot Love has always be in our heart. We just have not looked through the eyes of our heart lately.

But, through it all we learn more about love, and our definition of Love can grow. The Love and the passion does not leave, we just have not looked at things that way for a long time. It just depends on how we are looking, and what we are focusing on.

Our heart would probably leap at the chance to be used in that way again once in awhile.

Put on the old clothes, and sneekers, get the worn ball glove on, and get dirty. Throw that ball, put er in there. Hum babe hum babe. Smack...look a that ball fly! Run run run!!!!

Fatha Frank said...

Thanks, both of you for your comments. Nancy, you never cease to amaze. Glad to resonate with some fellow fans of America's pastime. Related to this, I recommend The Faith of Five Thousand. It's a heady read, but describes baseball as a 'civic religion'. Worth the read.

herbhalstead said...

My bride and I had a moment of "doubt" about what we're doing a couple weeks ago. I recall saying, "yeah - it's tough to be a small church, but I'm still having the time of my life."

n. davis rosback said...

this week's post is up
chapter 14
:-)


http://bendthepage.blogspot.com/2010/11/disruption-of-deception.html

n. davis rosback said...

i don't think i have your email address.

may i have it?

nancy gets your mail at yahoo dot com