Dealing with bad calls

But I focus on this one thing: Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead, I press on . . .  – Philippians 3:13-14 (NLT)
     
     
Anyone who knows me knows I’m a diehard Pittsburgh Pirates fan. But did I stay up for Tuesday night’s marathon game against the Braves? Almost. I went to bed after the top of the nineteenth inning. Good thing, too. Because if I’d had seen the umpire’s blown call at home plate during the bottom of that inning, I wouldn’t have gotten any sleep.
     
Replays show Pirates catcher Michael McKenry tagging runner Julio Lugo at least a foot before Lugo reached the plate. Even Lugo thought he was out—until umpire Jerry Meals called him safe, ending the record-setting long game. Only then did Lugo tag the plate.
     
Even Meals, after he’d seen the replay said he “might have” blown the call: “It appeared he might have got him on the shin area. I’m guessing he might have got him.”
     
Come on, ump. Own up to it. What’s wrong with saying, “I made a mistake. I was wrong”? None of this “I’m guessing” or “might have.”
     
One ESPN writer called it “the new worst call ever.”
     
Last year a blown call at first base ruined a pitcher’s perfect game. That umpire, after seeing the replays, admitted his error and actually cried about it.
     
“There’s no doubt he feels bad and terrible,” said the pitcher. “I have a lot of respect for the man. It takes a lot to say you’re sorry and to say in interviews he made a mistake.”
     
“Sometimes that’s the way it goes,” said Pirates manager Clint Hurdle after Wednesday morning’s fiasco at home plate. “It’s just disappointing . . . We’ll move on. The season is not going to stop.”
     
Pirates pitching coach Ray Searage was even terser: “Deal with it.”
     
How we deal with the bad calls we get—and give—in life reveals our character and determines whether the ordeal will weaken or strengthen us.
     
Take St. Paul, for instance. He was imprisoned on trumped up charges more than once, whipped, beaten with rods, stoned, shipwrecked, and left for dead, yet he continually pressed on, refusing to look back, refusing to let the unfairness of it all embitter him. He refused to play the blame game and allow a grudge to destroy both relationships with others and his own spirit.
     
So we, too, must deal with the bad calls of life: We allow them to make us either bitter or better. Remember: mercy sweetens; bitterness poisons.
     
What about when you’re the one who’s made the bad call? You can own up to it, justify it, deny it, ignore it, or circumvent it (aka, “beat around the bush”).  It seems to me all but one of those choices keeps things stirred up. Admitting your mistake—and saying you’re sorry—will not only diffuse a volatile situation, but will also win you the respect and perhaps even the friendship of those you’ve wronged. Remember: “A soft answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger” (Proverbs 15:1).
     
No one’s perfect. We’ve all made bad calls. We’ve all been on the receiving end of bad calls. C’est la vie—such is life.
     
Deal with it—and move on.
     
Help me, Lord, to ask forgiveness when I’ve wronged someone, to forgive those who have wronged me, and to move on. Amen. 
     

Special-Tea: Read Psalm 37

Forgotten gift

For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith . . . it is the gift of God.  – Ephesians 2:8 (NIV)
     
     
I sat in the manager’s office as he perused my application for a line of credit. I was 20 years old, had just graduated from college, and moved to Punxsutawney, where I’d gotten my first job. After a couple months of loneliness—I knew no one in the area, and my social life was zilch—I decided it was time to purchase a television. So I went to Grant’s department store in town, chose one I liked, and applied for a line of credit.
     
That’s where I ran into trouble. I had no credit history. Oh, I was making payments on my car—a '67 Camaro Rally Sport—but my mother had signed the loan papers, so the loan was in her name, as was the credit for my punctual payments. I wouldn’t ask her to sign for me on this. After all, I was on my own now, right?
     
The manager was doing his best to help me.
     
“You don’t have any credit cards?” he asked.
     
I started to shake my head when I remembered—my dad, months before his death, had given me a Texaco credit card. “You might need this sometime,” he’d said. I put it in my wallet and forgot about it. Now I pulled it out and handed it to the manager.
     
“I’ve never used it, though.”
     
His face erupted into a huge grin. “It doesn’t matter. It’s in your name. It’ll work.”
     
I got my TV.
     
Sometimes we receive a gift we don’t think we need. We put it away for “someday” or recycle it—give it to someone who might use it. In the case of the forgotten credit card, I never planned to use it. But my father knew someday I might have an emergency and he wouldn’t be around. Without a lecture (Mom would have given me one), he quietly slipped me something I didn’t know at the time I would need.
     
My Father in heaven is the same. He, too, knows what I need before I ask (Matthew 6:8). Like salvation. Nearly two thousand years before I was born, He sent His Son to pay the penalty for my sins—and the sins of everyone who ever lived. He did this so I could spend eternity with Him. Salvation—being saved from the penalty of my sin, from the power of sin, and someday from the presence of sin—is a gift. I cannot earn it.
     
But how many do with the gift of salvation what I did with that credit card—put it away for someday and forget about it?
     
But someday always comes. Someday, in fact, is today (2 Corinthians 6:2).
     
Have you used the gift God has given you?
    
     
Thank You, Father, for patiently waiting for me to realize that I needed You—and the salvation You give through Your Son Jesus Christ. Amen.
     

     
Special-Tea: Acts 16:25-31; Ephesians 2:8-9

Extra “Tea”:  Romans 3:23-24; Romans 6:23; John 3:16; John 3:36; John 14:6; 1 John 5:11-12
    

My rock-and-roll kitty

As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul longs for you, O God. -  Psalm 42:1 (NIV)
      
      
One day about two years ago my neighbor appeared at my door, with a soft, white and gray kitten. “It just showed up,” she said.
      
I held out my arms.
      
I named her “Rascal,” because, well, she was such a rascal—hiding under the bed when I made it, scooting out and swatting my foot with her sharp claws, then scooting back to safety, like she was playing a game of hide and tag. She had other lurking places, too.
      
Rascal must have been taken from her mother too soon, because she seems to adopted me for the role. She likes to be close to me. Sometimes too close. She hops up on the bed at night—or whenever I lie down—and snuggles up next to my leg. When I’m watching TV or reading, I find her nestled my lap. She often curls up at my feet when I’m working at the computer or having my devotions. Once I forgot she was there and moved my desk chair, which has rollers on the bottom—and rolled over some part of her. My quiet time chair—an antique rocking chair—isn’t any safer. She lies so close that, if I’m not careful, I rock on her. Hence I call her my rock-and-roll kitty.
      
But my rocking and rolling on her hasn’t stopped her from wanting to be close to me.
   
Just like Rascal wants to be close to me, so God wants us to want to be close to Him. He wants us to want Him more than anything else—to desire the Giver more than the gift, the One who answers prayer more than the answer, His presence more than His provision.
   
He wants us to have a heart like David’s, whom God called “a man after my own heart” (1 Samuel 13:14, Acts 13:22). David’s was a heart that wanted God above all else:
      

• “Better is a day in your courts than a thousand elsewhere” (Psalm 84:10).      
• “My soul finds rest in God alone” (Psalm 62:1)      
• “As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul longs for you” (Psalm 42:1).     
• “O God, you are my God, earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you, my body longs for you, in a dry and weary land where there is no water” (Psalm 63:1).

      
I wish I could say that’s where I’m at—wanting God more than anything. I know that’s where I should be. The only time I really want God the way He wants to be wanted is when I need something only He can provide. Unanswered prayer, impossible problems, feelings of helplessness, all drive me to Him.
      
I need to be like my rock-and-roll kitty, who just wants to be close to me.
      
And so I pray . . .
      
Dear God, I want to want You more than anything, but I’ve got a long way to go. Too many other wants crowd You out. Place the desire for You alone in my heart, so I can pray with sincerity: O God, you are my God, earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you, my body longs for you, in a dry and weary land where there is no water. Amen.

Scrabble Schemes

Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes.  – Ephesians 6:9 (NIV)
      
      
I love to play Scrabble. When the kids were with us, the only one who’d play Scrabble with me was my youngest, David. A competitor to the bone, he’d make up words and insist they were legitimate. So I bought a Scrabble dictionary. If the word wasn’t in there, no go.
      
In time, I considered myself lucky to lose to David by only 50 points. Then he went to college, and the only time I got to play Scrabble was when he came home. Then he graduated, got a real job—and a life—and home visits are few and far between. So, no more Scrabble.
      
Then he bought me a Kindle for Christmas. I downloaded the Scrabble game almost immediately and now play “AL,” short for “Electronic Arts, Inc.” AL is really AI--Arts, Inc.--but it looks like AL, so I that's what I named my electronic opponent, which is basically a computer.
      
In my Scrabble games with David, I learned to use the bonus squares. But playing against a computer, that’s not enough. I had to learn to block my opponent—take away AL's chance of using the bonus squares and anticipate his moves, even if it means I have to put in a word with a lower score.
      
In real life, I have an opponent for whom it’s not a game and who's smarter than a computer. He’s not only out to steal my soul, but also works hard to discredit me—turn the good I do into bad, destroy my reputation and credibility as a Christian, make my efforts for God futile. Spiritual battles are hard to fight because the enemy is unseen, crafty, powerful, and can disguise himself as an angel of light (2 Corinthians 11:14). Like in the game of Scrabble, I’ve had to learn to block his moves.
      
But God doesn’t leave me defenseless in the biggest battle of my existence—the fight for my eternal life.
      
First, He gives me Himself: “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you” (Hebrews 13:5).
       
Second, He gives me the strength to flee: “But God keeps His promise: He will not allow you to be tempted beyond what your power to resist; at the time you are tempted, he will give you the strength to endure it, and so provide you with a way out” (1 Corinthians 10:13 TEV).
      
And third, just like I have a Scrabble dictionary to refer to, I have the Word of God, which Paul calls “the sword of the Spirit (Ephesians 6:17): “How can a young man keep his way pure? By living according to Your word” (Psalm 119:9, see also verses 11 and 105, and 2 Timothy 3:16).
      
If I want to win in Scrabble, I have to block my opponent’s moves. Don’t be defenseless against the enemy. Block his moves with the bonus squares of God’s presence, strength, and Word. 
      
      
 Your Word, O Lord, is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path (Psalm 119:105). Remind me to use it. Amen.

     
Special-Tea: Read Ephesians 6:10-18

Selah

       He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside still waters, he restores my soul.  – Psalm 23:2?3 (NIV)
      
       Have you ever noticed the little word Selah that appears frequently in the book of Psalms? Ever wonder what it means? Or maybe, like me, you skip over it. After all, it’s one little word, set apart from the rest of the text. How important could it be?
       I never gave Selah much thought, especially after I learned that the word’s meaning is uncertain. Then I got a Kindle for Christmas and downloaded the Amplified Bible, which explains the meanings of words as they were understood in their original language. When I came across the word Selah, the explanation inside the brackets read “pause, and calmly think of that!”
       That was something I knew I should do—and often tried to do—but was usually in a hurry to get my daily devotions done so I could plunge into my full schedule.
       Then on June 6 I had surgery to repair three herniated neck disks. I prepared myself as best as I could. I walked daily to build up my stamina, got my reading stash in order, submitted my June columns and radio programs ahead of time, and cleared my summer schedule. I had no idea how long recovery would take. One lady who’d had the same operation told me she was back to work three and a half weeks after the surgery. Others also told me they rebounded within weeks.
       The surgery was successful. I’ve had no pain—at all. After seven months of sometimes debilitating pain, that alone is enough to make me want to plunge right back into a full schedule. But I was given strict restrictions: no BLTS—no bending, lifting, twisting, or sitting for more than 30 minutes at a time—I wasn’t allowed to do anything but rest until my follow-up appointment two weeks after I was discharged. “If you’re not bored,” I was told, “you’re doing something wrong.”
       I wanted to get my life back, so I adhered to the doctor’s orders—and found that I enjoyed the down time. Rather than be bored, I was relaxed. I even let the reading stack go. Naps were more important.
       By the day of my follow-up appointment, though, I knew I still wouldn’t be running any marathons. As I viewed the X-rays in the doctor’s office, I counted eight screws holding the plate in place in my neck. I literally have my head screwed on, I thought. So I wasn’t surprised when the doctor told me I would trade the hard cervical collar for a soft one—which I’ll wear for six weeks “because you had multiple layers (more than one disk) done.”
       I’m gradually increasing my activity—walking short distances every other day, resting when I feel tired, working at the computer until my shoulders tell me “enough!” And today I’ll drive for the first time in a month. But for the rest of the summer I’ll take it easy—take the time to Selah and not feel guilty.
       Selah—such a little word. How important can it be?
      
       Sometimes, Lord, You have to stop me in my tracks to get me to slow down and Selah. Remind me not to skip over it again. Amen.