Near West Vineyard Church – Chicago, IL

For those who are baseball fans, there is little that is more coveted in the baseball realm than a foul ball.  (For those who are not baseball fans – please read on, because this is much less about baseball than it may first appear.)

Though I live on the South-side (using that term somewhat loosely [I’m South of Madison,]) I am a Cub’s fan.  (If you need a reason: my Mom grew up in the Lakeview area before moving out to the Austin neighborhood years ago and my Grandpa had a shop near Union Park.) Anyways…

It was the Saturday before this past  Memorial Day,  2010.   I was at a Cub’s game with my siblings and a baby niece of mine.  We had decent seats down the first baseline in right field.  I was gauging the trajectory and bend of two foul balls that had some are way.  I was sitting in the last seat of the row in the last column since I’ve always wanted to get a foul ball.

In the bottom of the eighth Ryan Theriot came up to bat.  He smacked a foul ball that was coming towards us.  I stepped out into the aisle and … it becomes a bit murky after that.   The ball hits some fan hands and starts rolling down the aisle.  A leg stretches three feet from the section above and pins the ball against the side and a half dozen hands lurch at the ball.  With no one having claim, I finally got the ball.  I walked back and thrust my fist in the air with child-like exuberance and my siblings and people who I’d been high-fiving throughout the came (yes the Cub’s did win that game) cheered with me.  A couple next to me asked if they could hold the ball and I gladly obliged and they gave it back.  As I was walking back to my seat something very unexpected happened.

A guy, (I hold nothing against Ron Santo that this guy was wearing his number “10” jersey) grabbed my hand and my whole arm with it and tried to extract the ball from my hand.  I yanked my arm back with my hand and the ball in exchange for a chunk of flesh.

The eighty year old guy who checks tickets tried to get this guy off of me and security was called.  My brothers stared this guy down for the rest of the game and I enjoyed the fact that I finally got a foul ball.

I called my wife and told her about it and she didn’t share my joy.  “You should’ve just let the guy have the ball.”  Ow… really?  I shared her thoughts with my sister and brothers who, like me, initially had a negative reaction.  “Why give it back?” I thought.

Later that day I had six hour ride ahead of me and lots of time to think.  That guy didn’t deserve the ball.  But I didn’t deserve the ball either.  In fact, I thought that this guy deserved it less than any of us.  And in that there was something worth taking home.  The same is true in our relationship with God.  Grace is receiving something we don’t deserve.  Any benefits I receive from God – I don’t deserve to take home with me.  But God has moved in us in a way that throws what we “deserve” out the window.  This is grace.  God sent his Son to die on the cross while we were yet sinners so that we could have fellowship with him.  Giving this guy the ball would have been an extreme expression of grace and one that he would never/could never have forgotten.  I dropped the ball.  God has called out to live in a daily grace, a grace that is guided by God and not us.  In this grace we are called to live and make a difference in the communities around us with radical grace and radical love.

Today I’m going to another ball game and wonder if this time I’ll drop the ball in someone else’s hands and let them take it home.