Bibles and Baseballs

“Strike three, you’re out!”

Here in the South, phrases such as these are often heard. From travel ball to the city park and high school leagues, America’s biggest pastime reigns supreme. Back in the day my family and I participated in our small town’s summer league. Each year my parents would coach, and we’d have the chance to “Play ball!”

This summer, we returned to the same park we once played at to watch some extended family try their hand at swinging the bat. The smells and sounds all transported me back in time. As I sat there munching on some overpriced popcorn, I scanned the bleachers to see if there was anyone I knew. Granted, it has been 15 years since I last played, so I didn’t expect much.

Amid searching, I noticed something I had missed all those years before – dads.

Of course, I knew that the ballpark would surely sink without dads. Most teams we played back then were coached by dads of all sorts. But this time, there was something unique about those in attendance.

More than half of them were in work clothes or dirty uniforms. They had obviously left their employer and headed straight to the park to be there for their children. Obviously, some had spent their day working on machines, while others were dressed sharp from desk jobs. But when it came down to it, I don’t imagine they thought much about their attire, only their love for their child. 

The more I thought about it, memories of my dad running bases in steel-toed boots flooded my memory. He had done the same thing for us all those years ago. Even if he had worked countless hours, he would be present at our games. On the rare occasion he couldn’t, my grandfather was always nearby.

Today, I feel like dads don’t get as much credit as they should. In our world, they label masculinity as “toxic.”

I beg to differ.

If it wasn’t for the grit and grace my father and grandfather passed on to me, I wouldn’t be the woman I am today. In fact, I would hate to imagine it any other way!

They taught me how to bait a hook.

They showed me how to swing a bat. 

But most importantly, they lived out their faith. Through them, I learned the importance of Christianity, what to look for in a husband, and how to dedicate a lifetime to serving the God of the universe. And they revealed that best to me when they were tired, worn out, and weary. Wearing their messy work clothes, they showed me who our heavenly Father was and how to be more like Him.

Sunday, June 14th, 2023 – we will celebrate Father’s Day.

For some, it will be filled with family visits and a BBQ or two. But for others, it will be just another day on the weekend. Either way, I would encourage you to take time to recognize the “fathers” or men who helped shape you.

Maybe it wasn’t your dad or grandfather who showed you how to love the Lord or hit a T-ball, maybe it was a Sunday School teacher, neighbor, uncle, or friend – whoever it was, I hope that you take time to remember the lessons learned from them. For better or worse, you are who you are because of who He used in your life.

See what kind of love the Father has given to us in that we should be called God’s children, and that is what we are! Because the world didn’t recognize him, it doesn’t recognize us (1 John 3:1)