I always wondered why our high school football coach would
always disappear in the middle of the third quarter. I remember during
my first game on the varsity squad, I looked up from the sidelines
(where I spent most of my time) and noticed that he was gone. (It was a
lot quieter). I couldn’t figure out what had happened. I was afraid the
other team had kidnapped him. Or maybe he had gotten sick on his
chewing tobacco. So I asked a senior “sideliner”. (They know
everything).
“Where’s the coach?” I asked, thinking I was the only one to
notice his absence, which made me feel important.
“In the press box”, he answered.
“Getting coffee”? I asked.
“No, getting perspective”.
Getting perspective – now that makes sense, doesn’t it? There’s no
way a coach can really keep up with the game from the sidelines.
Everyone yelling advice. Parents complaining. Players screaming.
Cheerleaders cheering. Sometimes you’ve got to get away from the
game to see it.
That story reminds me; occasionally we need to try that on
ourselves, too. How vital it is that we keep a finger on the pulse of our
own lives. How critical are those times of self-examination and
evaluation. Yet it’s hard to evaluate ourselves while we’re in the middle
of the game: schedules pressing, phones ringing, children crying, and
bills to be paid.
Max’s story offers us a suggestion. Take some press-box time.
Take some time (at least half a day) and get away from everything and
everyone.
Take your Bible and a notebook and get a press-box view of your
life. Are you as in tune with God as you need to be? How is your
relationship with your mate, your children, a good friend? Our parables
this Sunday ask us a few press-box questions. What do you value as
important in your life? Are you investing your energy in things that will
last? Perhaps some decisions need to be made. Spend much time in
prayer. Meditate on God’s Word. Be quiet. Fast for the day.
Now, I’m not talking about a get-away-from-it-all day where you
shop, play tennis, go to a movie, and relax in the sun (although such
times are needed, too). I’m suggesting an intense, soul-searching day
spent in reverence before God and in candid honesty with yourself.
Write down your life story. Reread God’s story. Recommit your heart
to your Maker.
I might mention that a day like this won’t just happen. It must be
made. You’ll never wake up and just happen to have a free day on your
hands. You’ll have to pull out the calendar, elbow out a time in the
schedule, and take it. Be stubborn with it. You need the time. Your
family needs you to take this time. As our story of the coach reminds us,
getting some press-box perspective could change the whole ball game. I
would like to add, getting some press-box perspective could change our
whole lives!
Archive for July, 2023
Press Box Time 7-30-2023
Friday, July 28th, 2023The Magic Seed? 7-23-2023
Friday, July 21st, 2023There was once a woman whose only son died. In her grief, she
went to a holy man and said, “What prayers, what magical incantations
do you have to bring my son back to life?”
Instead of sending her away or reasoning with her, he said to her,
“Fetch me a mustard seed from a home that has never known sorrow.
We will use it to drive the sorrow out of your life.”
The women set off at once in search of the magical mustard seed.
She came first to a splendid mansion, knocked at the door and said, “I
am looking for a home that has never known sorrow. Is this such a
place? It is very important to me.”
They told her, “You’ve certainly come to the wrong place,” and
began to describe all the tragic things that had recently befallen them.
The women said to herself, “Who is better able to help these
unfortunate people than I, who have had misfortune of my own?” She
stayed to comfort them, and then went on in her search for a home that
had never known sorrow.
But wherever she turned, in hovels and in palaces, she found one
tale after another of sadness and misfortune. Ultimately, she became so
involved in ministering to other people’s grief that she forgot about her
quest for the magical mustard seed, never realizing that her small
gestures of care, and concern and compassion, had in fact, driven the
sorrow out of her life.
A grieving woman’s small gesture of outreach gave life and hope
to herself – gave her what she was looking for.
Well traveled, Larry Brown, was once the coach of the San
Antonio Spurs, the local professional basketball team. Coach Brown
recently spent an afternoon at a local men’s store, signing autographs.
He was scheduled to spend two hours, but ended up spending three.
Pencil-and-pad-toting kids besieged the place, asking him questions and
shaking his hand.
When he was finally able to slip out, he climbed into his car, only
to notice a touching sight. A late-arriving youngster pedaled up, jumped
off his bike, and ran to the window to see if the coach was still in the
store. When he saw he wasn’t, he turned slowly and sadly, walked over
to his bike, and began to ride off.
Coach Brown turned off the ignition, climbed out of the car, and
walked over to the boy. They chatted a few minutes, went next door to a
drugstore, sat down at a table, and had a soft drink.
No reporters were near. No cameras were on. As far as these two
knew, no one knew. I’m sure Larry Brown had other things to do that
afternoon. No doubt he had other appointments to keep. But it’s
doubtful that anything he might have done that afternoon was more
important than what he did.
In a world of big-bucked, high-glossed professional sports, it did
me good to hear of one coach who is still a coach at heart.
Larry Brown was the yeast that raised this young boy up, that
added flavor and zest to a little boy’s life.
Lord, we spend so much energy frantically searching
for that magical elixir, that magical cure to take away
our grief, our loneliness, the hurting parts of our life
that need fixing. Help us remember today, this week,
always, that one small gesture on our part, a smile, a
handshake, a hug, a phone call, a short visit, a listening
ear, a few encouraging words….is the best medicine to
bring about real healing for ourselves and for others.
Amen
The Prison Angel 7-16-2023
Thursday, July 13th, 2023She rises each day at 5 A.M. in her tiny prison cell. She spends the
first hour in quiet prayer; then, fueled by countless cups of coffee, she
begins her rounds of the cell blocks, distributing clothing, blankets and
soap to prisoners. She visits the prison hospital, counsels new inmates,
and meets with families. She has diffused tensions between desperate
inmates and nervous guards; she has made the most hardened con accept
responsibility for his crimes and seek forgiveness from his victims.
She is not the warden. She is not a guard. She is a 78-year-old
nun known as Mother Antonia. Her “home” is Tijuana’s La Mesa
prison, just across the border from San Diego. For 28 years, she has
lived among the 6,000 inmates of what was once one of Mexico’s most
dangerous prisons.
The only member of her order allowed to live inside the prison,
Mother Antonia spends ten hours a day among the prisoners. Sisters in
her community work in Tijuana’s neighborhoods providing support for
families of both inmates and guards, counseling mothers separated from
children, even helping arrange funerals for those who die in prison.
Mother Antonia’s own life and upbringing could not have been
more different. Born Mary Clarke, she was the daughter of a wealthy
Los Angeles businessman. A striking beauty, Mary grew up in a
Beverly Hills mansion with Hollywood stars Dinah Shore and Cary
Grant for neighbors. Twice married, she raised seven children who
adore her. Mary’s many hours of charity work became a source of
tension in her second marriage and eventually led to divorce. In 1977,
with her marriage over and her children all grown, Mary felt a powerful
pull to do more.
With the support of her children, she sold her belongings and drove
to Tijuana, where she had been making church-sponsored relief visits,
and began religious life. She convinced the warden to let her stay and
began the dangerous task of winning inmates over with small acts of
kindness.
(Her journey from Beverly Hills to the barrios of Tijuana is
chronicled in the book The Prison Angel, by Mary Jordan and Kevin
Sullivan.)
“I wanted to dedicate my life to the poor,” she says. “I didn’t want
to just pity them. I wanted to become a significant part of their lives…I
guess you might say I’m in love with these people who the rest of the
world finds unlovable.”
The warden believes that Mother Antonia is the most important
person at La Mesa. “Mother Antonia brings hope to men and women
here. And they find hope in themselves. She spreads the love of God.”
Beloved by the guards, her presence has made their jobs safer and more
humane.
What drives her, she says, is her faith. “[My faith] is what makes
my heart beat. That’s who I am.” Of her work among the prisoners of
La Mesa, she says: “Like a mother, I always search for the best in my
children.”
Mother Antonia models the sower of today’s Gospel, who sows
seeds of encouragement, joy and reconciliation regardless of the “ground” on which it is scattered, and who is willing to do the hard work
necessary to realize the harvest that Christ has promised.
I close: The reign of God is like a seed. That seed is the kindness
we do, the worship we share in, the conversation around the dinner table,
the soup to the sick neighbor, the decisions to put the family first. The
seed is being sensitive to minorities. The seed is making your children
bring back the little things they’ve stolen, and apologize. The seed is
having them catch you at prayer. The seed is your being here.
I like the seed symbol, mostly, I guess, because it fits me. I can
handle a seed. We seldom have the opportunity, or even the courage, to
do the big things, the really big, heroic things. But everyday, like
Mother Antonia, we all have the opportunity to do the small ones that
display our values and the values of Jesus; values, perhaps, small as a
seed, but seeds that will bear fruit thirty, forty, fifty years from now.
Remember this: do the little things well and let God do the rest.
