Category: Texas Rangers (Page 22 of 32)

It’s Already Decided

These first two games of the World Series are what October baseball is all about. The stakes are eternally high. The games are immeasurably close. The margin for error is razor thin. The drama of each game and the series itself builds with every half inning. We hold our breath with every pitch. Our heart rates increase and decrease every time bat strikes ball. Every pitching change, every managerial decision, every bunt, bobble, and base-on-balls is monumental. Both of these first two games have packed more drama than a month of soap opera Fridays. More tension. More uncertainty. More surprises. More oh-my-word-can-you-believe-that-just-happened thrill!

The outcome remains completely in doubt until the very last out of the very last inning.

We don’t know until that final K or that last base hit who’s going to win. Who will prevail? Will it be the loveable hunch-playing Wash, running in place in the Rangers dugout, or the calculating TLR with ice in his veins and evil in his cold stare? Will it be the All-American boy next door Michael Young and the redeemed Josh Hamilton or the all-powerful Pujols and the grizzled former Astro? We don’t know. We don’t know. Can a “catching” error really decide this thing? Yeah, maybe. Could the MVP really be a guy off the Cards’ bench? Perhaps. But we won’t know until the very bitter end.

That’s what we love about October baseball.

Aren’t we glad our eternal destinies don’t hang in the balance like the outcome of a World Series?

Aren’t we glad that we already know who wins between good and evil in this world? Aren’t we glad that God through Christ Jesus, our crucified and risen Lord, has already defeated forever the forces of sin and death and Satan and everything else that would ever separate us from him? Aren’t we glad that we already know the final score? Our destiny is already delivered. The outcome is certain. Holy Scripture and God’s great acts in history and our Father’s faithful promises for the future show us clearly that God wins. And it’s a rout! It’s a blowout! Not even close! One-hundred-gazillion to nothing! Satan doesn’t even get out of the starting blocks. Evil doesn’t even get a swing. Death never gets a runner in scoring position. God wins! Put it in six-inch headlines: GOD WINS!!!

So relax. Take a deep breath. Calm down. Smile a little.

You’re on the winning team, right?

There’s plenty to worry about with this World Series. But as far as our eternal salvation is concerned, it’s already game over.

Peace,

Allan

Take Courage! It is I!

I’m teaching some of the broad themes of the Gospel of Mark in our Wednesday night class. You can find our outlines and articles and, eventually, the audio from the classes by jumping to the Central Church of Christ website here. Tonight we’re focusing on the great contrast between fear and faith.

(It’s appropriate to be considering this together on the same night the Rangers open the World Series. Rangers fans know all too well the mighty struggle between fear and faith, between despair and belief.)

Everybody in Mark is afraid. Everybody. Jesus calms the storm, delivers his apostles from the sea, and he turns to them and asks, “Why are you so afraid?” Jesus delivers the demon-possessed man from the devils that have enslaved him and the townspeople react in fear. The bleeding woman trembles in fear. Jesus tells Jairus not to be afraid. The apostles are terrified when Jesus walks on the water. They’re afraid to ask the Lord what he means when he predicts his death. Those following Jesus “on the way” are said to be afraid. The religious leaders in Mark are afraid: they fear Jesus, they fear the people, and they’re afraid of the crowds.

Everybody’s afraid in Mark. They’re terrified by Jesus’ power over nature, by his power over hell; they’re frightened by the images of persecution and suffering and death he predicts; they’re scared by what it means to follow him. And Mark does not want us to miss this. In fact, this fear factor as a theme is so important to Mark it’s the very last thought, the last word literally, in his Gospel. In Chapter 16 the angel at the empty tomb commands the women, “Go, tell his disciples and Peter.” But “they were afraid.”

If fear is the opposite of faith — and I’m convinced it is — fear paralyzes us while faith liberates us. Fear looks at me and the world while faith sees me and God. And Jesus longs for us to have faith. His desire is to drive away our fears. So he comes to us. He reveals himself to us. He shows us who he is and what he’s all about.

He comes to us, walking on the uncertain waters of the storms all around us. He comes as the One who is sovereign over those waters that threaten to do us in. He controls them. He does what only God, the divine Creator of heaven and earth can do. He walks on the water to us and says, “Take Courage! It is I! Don’t be afraid.”

To all the people in Mark who are afraid, the message from our Lord is the same: Don’t be. He tells the disciples to have faith. He informs the woman that her faith has healed her. He tells Jairus to believe. He teaches them (us) in patience and love. He leads them (us) by his perfect example. And he rescues them (us) and delivers them (us) again and again and again.

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I feel a million miles away from my Rangers. Saturday’s pennant clincher was thrilling, but there was no mad late-night dash to Academy to celebrate with the throngs and purchase the official T-shirt like last year. I had called the Academy Saturday afternoon just to see if they might, by some chance, have the shirts stashed away in boxes, ready to be unveiled and made available as soon as Feliz recorded the last out. Alas, the poor young man on the other end of the line had no idea what I was talking about.

Oi.

The shirts just made it to Academy up here yesterday. Whitney and I quietly and anticlimactically got our shirts after school. We’re wearing them today. But I haven’t seen them on anybody else.

The Amarillo Globe-News only had two stories about the Rangers in their whole newspaper today: an AP wire story about C. J.’s freeze chamber (boring) and a local column about long-suffering Rangers fans (already lived it).

Oi, vey.

For big regular season games and every single postseason game, I have my text conversations with my die-hard Rangers friends. From Fort Worth and Amarillo to Arkansas and East Texas, we watch the games “together” and make “interesting comments” (as George Costanza says) and wise cracks about team strategy, booth announcing, and critical plays. Not tonight, though. It’s a church night. It’s also an elders meeting night. And I’ve left my DVR in North Richland Hills. If I’m lucky, I’ll get home in time to catch the last inning or two.

Hopefully, Chris Carpenter will be long gone by then. And Alexi will be dealing with a lead.

Let’s Go Rangers! (clap, clap, clap, clap, clap)
Let’s Go Rangers! (clap, clap, clap, clap, clap)

Allan

Freedom to Live in Love

“Justin Boots ALCS Back to Texas”

Sorry. That’s the best I can do with a corny headline from yesterday’s Game Five. You’ve gotta hand it to him, Verlander was amazing. And Ceej was not. Not at all. I’m still not sure why Wash left Wilson in for that whole sixth inning meltdown. To restore the bullpen? Maybe. But Verlander will make the start again for the Tigers if they force a Game Seven, which makes tomorrow’s Game Six a must-win for the Rangers. They will have no excuses. Everything’s set up. They’ll be in Arlington. It’s a night game instead of a day game. Holland’s had plenty of rest. And Beltre’s poised for another couple of homers. I’ll be shocked if Texas doesn’t put it away Saturday night. And scared to death.

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“You, my brothers, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the sinful nature; rather serve one another in love. The entire law is summed up in a single command: Love your neighbor as yourself.” ~Galatians 5:13-14

Love God and love neighbor. Old Testament and New Testament. Moses, the prophets, Jesus, and the apostles. All the commands, all the guidelines, all the restrictions we’re under as children of God are summed up by the command to love.

Human beings are created by God to live in relationships of love. God is love. God’s perfect law for his creatures begins and ends with love. Love is what sets us free. It’s what makes us alive. It’s the thing that gives us hope.

But love demands sacrifice and service. It calls for selflessness. It’s characterized by giving. It’s risky. Love is hard.

Strange, huh? Perfect life and freedom is found in love. But love involves giving up your life and sacrificing your freedom.

To those outside the Lord, those who have not submitted to God or his commands, his laws are the enemy because they announce condemnation. To legalistic believers, God’s law is oppressive, it’s a harsh master that does rob them of their freedom. But to those children of God who have grasped the significance of God’s mercy and grace, his law is a servant that actually helps us see the character of our Father. The commands reveal to us our God and exactly what he’s doing in Christ.

God commands us to love because he loves. He demands that we forgive because he forgives. He tells us to value every human life because he values every human life. The royal law, these love commands, give us our perfect freedom to become everything we were made to be.

Obeying God changes you. God’s not looking for your formal fulfillment of what he says. He’s looking for you to eventually realize your created potential, to eventually be transformed into the perfect image of his holy Son.

Peace,

Allan

It’s A Problem, Right?

“Cruz Control!”

Nellie is dealing, man! His perfect strike from right field in the 8th and his three-run jimmy jack to put it away in the 11th have given the Rangers complete command of this ALCS. Young finally drove in a run and appears to be slowly returning to form. Kinsler’s running the bases like a seasoned veteran. Mike Napoli’s still red-hot; his throw to nail Jackson, coupled with his catch and block at the plate on Cabrera, were things of sheer beauty and grace. And watching Wash running in place in the dugout as Hamilton rounded third made everything seem just as fun as last year.

And: Is it a cobra or a sitting duck? What is that thing? Whatever it is, it’s not as cool as the claw and antlers.

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Jesus and the Church today don’t attract the same people. That’s a problem, right? While he was ministering on this earth in our flesh, Jesus seemed to attract a certain kind of people. But his Church today seems to repel those kinds of people and attract others.

In just about every Gospel account, anytime Jesus met up with a religious leader or a well-respected pillar of the community, they were offended by the Son of God. They were repulsed by Jesus. Threatened, even. But those who were on the margins of society, those who had no power or status or wealth, were intrigued by Jesus. They were attracted to him. The outcast is always the one who connects with Jesus. Those are the ones coming to Christ. The city rulers and “church” leaders were the ones trying to put Jesus down, trying to kill him.

Our experience today seems to be just the opposite.

Timothy Keller, in his little book The Prodigal God, speaks to this as he compares and contrasts the two lost sons in the Luke 15 account of Jesus’ most well-known parable. (What? You’ve never read Timothy Keller? Oh, my. Look, as soon as you’re finished reading and commenting on this blog post, the very moment you’re done, click here and buy Keller’s The Reason For God. And when it arrives, read it!) The younger son types were always attracted to Jesus while the older brother types were cynical and suspicious. But that’s not the way things are in our American churches today:

“Jesus’ teaching consistently attracted the irreligious while offending the Bible-believing, religious people of his day. However, in the main, our churches today do not have this effect. The kind of outsiders Jesus attracted are not attracted to our contemporary churches, even our most avant-garde ones. We tend to draw conservative, buttoned-down, moralistic people. The licentious and liberated or the broken and marginal avoid church. That can only mean one thing. If the preaching of our ministers and the practice of our parishioners do not have the same effect on people that Jesus had, then we must not be declaring the same message that Jesus did. If our churches aren’t appealing to younger brothers, they must be more full of elder brothers than we’d like to think.”

What kind of  a message are we sending when we relegate the poor of our community to a back room downstairs? What are we saying when the Hispanic church can meet in our building, but only after we’re finished with it? What do we communicate when the outcast feels more warmly welcomed at Wal-Mart and McDonald’s than he does at church? What’s the “gospel” we proclaim when we’re quick to hand a guy a five dollar bill for lunch but avoid like the plague the thought of ever actually inviting that guy to our homes for dinner?

That’s a problem, right?

If we ever came to the conclusion that acting like our Lord — doing Christ-like things in Christ-like ways — was the way to go and acting the opposite of our Lord was wrong, then things might change. But none of this will ever change a long as we think it’s OK the way it is. That’s a problem, right?

Peace,

Allan

Do You See Anything?

Yesterday’s Skip-shot in this space has started something. I received a text from Byrnes very early this morning that said:

 “Rangers Subdued by Iron Fister.”

I countered with:

“Colby Serves Up the Cheese in Rangers Loss.”

If you’d like to add a corny headline about last night’s game before this afternoon’s begins, jump in.

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We’re conditioned by our world — actually it’s in our nature and then reinforced by the world — to see the things we want to see and hear the things we want to hear. Anybody with a spouse or any children know this first hand. I’ll tell the girls “maybe” and they run to Carrie-Anne and say, “Dad said we could!” As a preacher, sometimes this works in my favor. Somebody will tell me how wonderful it was when I said such-and-such and I have no idea what she’s talking about. What this lady heard is nowhere near what I was preaching. But it meant something to her. And I still take credit for it. Of course, it certainly can work the other way, too.

In the Gospel of Mark, Jesus keeps asking people if they’re seeing correctly. Jesus asks the blind guy in Mark 8, “Do you see anything?” Same chapter, in the boat before Jesus and his apostles reach Bethsaida, he asks them, “Do you still not see?”

The blind guy in Mark 8 whose vision is blurry, whose eyesight is not perfectly clear, who sees something but not everything, represents everybody in the Gospel. And most everybody we encounter today. We see Jesus. But we don’t see all of him. We only see what we want. We embrace the Jesus who heals and forgives and feeds and loves and accepts and saves. We want to follow Jesus and live like that Jesus. But a Jesus who suffers and dies? Peter refused to see it. Most everybody did. Sometimes we don’t see it. And our picture of the Messiah is woefully incomplete. The Savior we teach is less than whole. The Gospel we preach is only partial truth.

We don’t see Jesus completely until we see his suffering and death. To see Jesus die is to understand who he really is and what he really came to do.

There are only two people in the entire Gospel of Mark who are said to “see.” One is Bartimaeus, the only other blind guy in the whole book, in Mark 10. This is Jesus’ final miracle, his last healing, as he enters Jerusalem to die. Bartimaeus calls out to Jesus, “Son of David!” That’s the Messianic title. The blind guy is the only one who sees. Jesus asks him, “What do you want me to do for you?” And Bartimaeus answers, “I want to see.” And the text tells us that “immediately he received his sight and followed Jesus.” To the cross. To his death.

The other one is the Roman Centurion. At the cross. At Jesus’ death. The crowds were shouting, “Come down from the cross that we may see and believe!” When the soldier “saw how he died,” he confessed Jesus as the Son of God.

If you tell Jesus “I want to see,” what you’ll see is a commitment to trials and ridicule and persecution and suffering. You’ll see a road, a way, that leads to your death. What you’re promised is the same exaltation and glory that he now has as the resurrected Lord reigning at the right hand of the Father in heaven.

Peace,

Allan

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