The Rangers took two of three from the Astros over the weekend, the first of which Whitney and Carley and I experienced in person at Globe Life Field Friday night. It was a 12-inning triumph in which the kids, particularly Cody Freeman and Dustin Harris, again played pivotal parts. The atmosphere was electric, as it always is when these two Lone Star rivals get together. The World Series trophy was on display–I guess we want to remind all the Astros fans that we won it last–and it was our first time to see the brand new Adrian Beltre statue outside the centerfield gates. So we patted Beltre’s head, took the pic with the trophy, and then sent the selfie to all our Rangers friends after Harris’ 12th inning single drove home the winning run.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Shockingly, the Rangers are still in this thing, just a half-game back of a wild card spot. Just as amazingly, if Texas can win just one of the three remaining games against the Astros, they will take the annual Silver Boot Trophy for the first time in nine years. And Myles Hill will have to buy me lunch at Whataburger.

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A prayer from A Cry for Mercy by Henri Nouwen. Especially if you are a minister or a congregational leader. My hope is that this might give voice to your heart in ways you never would have expected. And that you will be given encouragement and peace in our Lord Jesus Christ.

O Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the living God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

I am impressed by my own spiritual insights. I probably know more about prayer and contemplation than most Christians do. I have read many books about the Christian life, and have even written a few myself. Still, as impressed as I am, I am more impressed by the enormous abyss between my insights and my life.

It seems as if I am standing on one side of a huge canyon and see how I should grow toward you, live in your presence and serve you, but cannot reach the other side of the canyon where you are. I can speak and write, preach and argue about the beauty and goodness of the life I see on the other side, but how, O Lord, can I get there? Sometimes I even have the painful feeling that the clearer the vision, the more aware I am of the depth of the canyon.

Am I doomed to live on the wrong side of the abyss? Am I destined to excite others to reach the promised land while remaining unable to enter there myself? Sometimes I feel imprisoned by my own insights and “spiritual competence.”

You alone, Lord, can reach out to me and save me. You alone.

I can only keep trying to be faithful, even though I feel faithless most of the time. What else can I do but keep praying to you, even when I feel dark; to keep writing about you, even when I feel numb; to keep speaking in your name, even when I feel alone.

Come, Lord Jesus, come. Have mercy on me, a sinner.

Amen.