Baseball and I never became best friends. I enjoy going to games. You just don’t want me to be in one. At least not on your team.

I remember the only little league hit I ever had. A double. Coach had me steal third. Then he had me steal home. Stealing home didn’t work.

I remember the hit more than getting thrown out. My norm was to watch strikes or swing wildly. I was a one-season one-hit wonder. But what a sweet hit it was. The memory trophy still lives on my shelf.

Life for many of us has become a little league season of swinging wildly. 

The family traditions around Thanksgiving gatherings are up in the air. Even Christmas gatherings appear dicey. One pastor I know just had five of his staff members come down with COVID.  

Enough already.

It’s like we’re just learning how to hold the bat. We’re afraid of the inside fastball. Our go-to is to close our eyes and swing.

Just when we think life is eking back to some normalcy another lockdown appears on the horizon like a well-thrown knuckleball. I didn’t even know knuckleballs were legal in little league.

Too much craziness for my well-being. 

The craziness of COVID calls for some divine calm. Kind of like the disciples going bonkers in the boat on the Sea of Galilee. Unsure what to do in that freaky ride. All while Jesus slept.

They shook him awake sure He wasn’t concerned enough about their situation.

Jesus played His Creator card and told nature to settle down. It did. Then he lovingly confronted his friends:  “Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?” (Mark 4.40)

I need that Divine reminder that faith minimizes fear.

My little league games were full of fear. In part because I had no confidence in my abilities.

This little league season promotes fear, too. But I know who ultimately controls the game.

He knows how to hit knuckleballs.

I’m on His team. So are you.