Eye on the Ball (Friday Devotional)

“Am I now seeking human approval, or God’s approval? Or am I trying to please people? If I were still pleasing people, I would not be a servant of Christ.”

- Galatians 1:10

In baseball, there is a simple principle taught to all ballplayers, something they hear from the first time they pick up a glove to the last time they lace up their cleats: keep your eye on the ball. As straightforward as it sounds, it’s a mantra that gets repeated in every practice, every game, and every film session, and for good reason.

For a game with so many lulls in the action, when the ball is finally put in play, there is suddenly a plethora of things to consider all at once. The batter must decide which base to pursue, whether to test or respect the fielder’s arm, and whether to slide or come in standing up. The fielder has to figure out where to position himself to get to the ball as quickly as possible, ensure that none of his teammates can get there faster, and decide who to throw to next. All the other players on defense have to get in a position to help their teammate, one by catching his throw, the rest by defending their own space of the field in case things go haywire and the ball misses its intended target. All of these decisions have to be made in mere seconds.

With so much to consider, it’s always a temptation for players to take their eyes off the ball. The batter might see the general arc of his hit right off the bat and assume a standup double, but if he’s giving his full attention to second base instead of also following the ball, he misses the weird carom it takes off the outfield wall that would have given him a triple had he hustled the whole way. The outfielder might take his eyes off the ball just for a moment, just long enough to gauge the speed of the runner and guess where he’s headed, and subsequently miss how in that split second the ball catches a gust of wind and lands 5 feet past his reach. For the offense and the defense alike, the rule remains the same—keep your eye on the ball or you can ruin the entire play.

A similar rule holds true in the life of faith—to be truly faithful, you have to remember who is most important to you and fix your eyes on Him. There are a million different impulses, temptations, people, movements, and distractions that threaten daily to pull you from the way of Christ. Every time you are asked to compromise your principles for some “greater good”, to follow the crowd down the wide road when Christ commands you to take the narrow one, the temptation exists to do what’s easy instead of what’s good, what’s self-satisfying instead of what’s self-sacrificial.

That’s why it’s so important to keep your eyes on the cross, seeking not to please yourself or the people around you, but God alone. When everything is viewed through the prism of your faith in Christ, when Jesus is truly the Lord of your life and not just a factor in it, those daily decisions become simpler. Instead of navigating a minefield of pros and cons, of trying to please as many people as possible while offending as few as you can, you have one central, unyielding concern—to be faithful to the God who has always been faithful to you.

Abraham Lincoln once said, “You can please some of the people all of the time, you can please all of the people some of the time, but you can’t please all of the people all of the time.” Instead of spending your time deciding which people to please in any given moment, may you give your full attention to pleasing the one who gave everything for you on the cross. With so much happening around you every day, remember this simple rule: keep your eye on the cross.

Today I'm Proud To Be A Baylor Bear

The first job I ever had was to call Baylor alumni, parents, and friends of the university to raise funds. For more than 5 years, as both an undergraduate student and a seminary student, a caller and later a supervisor, I cheerfully informed people in the Baylor family about all the positive things happening at Baylor and then solicited their support. For the vast majority of my time at the call center, there was no shortage of good news to share.

I’ve been grateful not to have to make those calls this year.

I’m a Bear through and through—I have two Baylor diplomas in my office, a Baylor decal on my car, a growl towel in my living room, and a Line jersey in my closet. My wife works for the university. 5 years after graduation, I still call Waco home. I love Baylor—its traditions, its athletic programs, its mission, its faculty and staff.

But fundamentally, what I love most about Baylor is its student body. Ultimately, they are the university; they are the reason it exists. And what has become clear in the last year is that Baylor has been failing its students, specifically students who are victims of sexual assault.

The names and stories do not need to be retold here. Any news article you read about sexual assault at Baylor will have the names of football players associated with sexual assaults—some accused, some arrested, some convicted. The more in-depth articles may mention other sexual assault cases at Baylor, ones that had nothing to do with the football program. But for reasons both legal and ethical, you are unlikely to find the names of victims in these stories. Their stories go almost entirely untold.

More than 3 months ago, I gathered with several hundred other members of the Baylor family—mostly students, as well as some alumni, faculty, and other concerned parties—for a candlelight vigil outside Judge Kenneth Starr’s home on campus. The vigil and the service that followed at Truett Seminary were intended to give a voice to those victims who felt silenced and an opportunity for them to be heard. The vigil’s organizer, Stephanie Mundhenk, had written a blog post a few days earlier that had already gone viral about her own experience with sexual assault at Baylor—about the assault itself and about the ineffective and seemingly uncaring response when she sought help from the university. She said what was apparent that night and what has only become more obvious since then: “I think Baylor has failed a lot of us here tonight. We wanted this event to say it doesn’t have to be this way.”

Since that night, more stories have arisen of sexual assault at Baylor, some new and some buried long ago. Baylor has responded with promises of change, increased funding to its Title IX office and counseling services, and by commissioning an outside investigation by the Philadelphia law firm Pepper Hamilton. It is the findings of that investigation, which Baylor regents have been combing through the last few days, which have led to today’s big news—that Art Briles has been fired as head football coach, that Judge Starr has “transitioned” to serving only as chancellor while losing his presidency, and that Athletic Director Ian McCaw has been sanctioned and placed on probation.

All Baylor fans and alumni, myself included, are stunned by the news, particularly about Briles, almost certainly the most beloved figure on the Baylor campus just a year ago. I thought that, despite all the reports and the accompanying bad press, Briles was untouchable. I cynically believed that, due to all the money he’s brought into the university (including the sparkling new football stadium on the Brazos, which never would have been built without his teams’ success), he was the Baylor VIP least likely to suffer any significant consequences.

Yet here we are, with Baylor suddenly facing a drastically different future on all horizons than anyone dreamed a year ago. And, while my reaction is tempered by a desire for more details (I hope the regents will release the full report from Pepper Hamilton in the interest of transparency), I’m more proud of Baylor today than I have been at any time in the past year.

With these moves, the Board of Regents has made something clear to the Baylor family that the past decade’s success has sometimes blurred—nothing is more important to the university than its students. Not money. Not academic reputation. Not national influence. Not even football.

Hearing Richard Willis, chairman of the Board of Regents, say he was “horrified” by the findings of the Pepper Hamilton investigation was a breath of fresh air to me, because that was exactly how I felt three months ago listening to a sexual assault victim tell her story—both about the assault itself and her fear that telling Baylor about it would do her more harm than good. Seeing actions put to words, seeing Baylor’s Christian mission used not only for slogans but as a standard, gives me renewed faith in my university. To see the most powerful men at Baylor held accountable for their failures, while painful for everyone in the Baylor family, myself included, is to see Baylor caring more for people in need than for its own success.

These administrative moves will not prevent all future sexual assaults against Baylor students. They may not prevent any. Sexual violence is an epidemic across the nation’s colleges and universities, and a few big names losing their positions won’t magically solve that problem. But now I can confidently and sincerely say something I couldn’t have said last week with a straight face—that Baylor doesn’t tolerate that in its culture. Now I can proudly say that Baylor deeply cares when one of its students is violated, and that the university will do everything in its power to help those who have been hurt and to prevent others from suffering the same crime. Now I can be proud of my university again.

The football program will suffer with Art Briles gone. The day-to-day operations and vision for Baylor’s future will suffer with Ken Starr moved to a new role. Nevertheless, I’m thankful, because now, when students suffer, I know Baylor cares.

EDIT: Baylor has published a 13-page "Findings of Fact" document on their website detailing the findings of the Pepper Hamilton investigation in the hours since I wrote this blog post. Having said I wanted Baylor to release more details from the investigation in the interest of transparency, I applaud them for doing so and encourage you to read it: http://www.baylor.edu/rtsv/doc.php/266596.pdf

Bragging Rights (Friday Devotional)

“Therefore, since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand; and we boast in our hope of sharing the glory of God. And not only that, but we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.”

- Romans 5:1-5

When rival teams go head to head, their fans are the biggest beneficiaries. Rivalries have a way of intensifying everything fans already love about sports: the emotion, the competition, the sense of community. During rivalry week, supporters of both the eventual winners and losers get to enjoy the atmosphere and the hype leading up to the big game. But when the final whistle blows, only the victors get to enjoy the bragging rights.

Just hang around the parking lot after a big game and you’ll hear the exuberant fans of the winning team good-naturedly (and sometimes not so good-naturedly) heckling the opposing fans. They’ll recall the game’s biggest plays, they’ll praise their team’s stars and deride the opposition’s, and, when their creativity fails them, they’ll just shout, “Scoreboard!” Their team is on top for now, and until the rivals meet again, all the losers can do is hang their heads. The rules are simple—in victory you’re allowed to boast, but in defeat you have no reason to.

Paul didn’t seem to understand this dynamic when he wrote Romans 5. On the one hand, he says that believers, having been justified by their faith in the saving power of Christ, can boast in the hope of sharing God’s glory. While his use of the word ‘boast’ is better understood as ‘taking pride in,’ rather than outright bragging, our typical notion of how boasting works nevertheless fits here—if you are in Christ, you have been guaranteed a share in God’s victory and his kingdom, so you can boast in that hope.

But as the passage continues, Paul makes a claim that doesn’t line up with our usual conception of when it’s appropriate to boast, saying that we can boast even in our sufferings. At a common sense level, that doesn’t seem to make sense—why would you celebrate when you’ve lost something? In defeat, our cultural understanding is that you can stoically soldier on through the pain and disappointment, you can defiantly cry out, “Wait ‘til next time,” but you cannot boast. You’ve lost, you’ve suffered, you’ve failed—what is there to boast about?

It is at this point that the gospel and the world part ways, because they place their hope in different things. If you do not know Christ, then your hope is placed in victorious outcomes. You might celebrate a graduation or a promotion or a birth, markers of success, drawing hope from the sense of accomplishment they bring. But when you fail or when life fails you, when the victories that gave you reason to hope fade from memory or are transformed into losses, your justification for hoping disappears. When your hope is placed in winning, you can only sustain that hope so long as you keep winning.

But when you know Christ, hope is not found in anything you are doing or that you will do. Rather, it is found in what God has done in Christ, providing salvation and redemption for all who believe. So whether your life is on an upward trajectory or has never looked grimmer, your hope can remain the same, because it is not found in the outcomes of today, but in the glory of eternity.

It is no easy thing to boast in the Lord when you are suffering—it seems to make far more sense to play by the world’s rules and sink into despair until you are winning again. But if you can maintain an eternal perspective, choosing to see life through heaven’s eyes instead of your own, you will find your defeats less crushing and your victories less necessary. May you find your hope not in the shifting sands of circumstance, but in the unshakeable foundation of God’s love.

Alone in the Chaos (Friday Devotional)

“I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever. This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him. You know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you.”

- John 14:16-17

As I looked around the disheveled apartment, all I could see was how much work still needed to be done. It was moving day, an occasion Lindsey and I had been looking forward to for weeks—by the end of the day, we would be in a new apartment across town with more space and a better surrounding neighborhood. We’d spent the last few days diligently filling boxes in preparation for the move, trying to prepare as best we could. But within 10 minutes of Lindsey’s departure to work, all I could see was how much we had not packed. Every piece of furniture we owned, most of our kitchen supplies, all of our food, and a closet full of clothes, just to name a few things, were exactly where they had been a month ago. Standing alone in the middle of a messy room that needed to be bare by nightfall, I was completely overwhelmed.

My stress was on the verge of becoming panic when I heard a knock at the door. When I opened it, my brother was there ready to help, just as he had promised he would be. Minutes later, several friends arrived, and my mom wasn’t far behind. Now when I looked around the room—still full of stuff needing to be boxed up and carried out—the task no longer seemed nearly as daunting. There was still just as much work to be done as before, but one thing had changed: I was no longer having to do it all by myself.

Life is full of trials that bring grief, anxiety, and pain, but more often than not it is not the situations themselves that bring you to your knees. What drags you down is when you feel, as I did looking when I was looking around that chaotic apartment, like you have to bear the entire burden by yourself. Discomfort becomes despair when you feel your struggle is yours alone.

For the follower of Christ, one of the great blessings of faith is that you do not face any hardship alone. In every temptation and tribulation, the Holy Spirit remains with you as a constant source of encouragement, accountability, comfort, and strength, reminding you of both the rewards and the responsibilities of discipleship. Even when friends desert you, even when it seems like you can’t count on anyone but yourself, the Spirit abides with you.

God does not promise that his children will have a smooth passage through life’s storms, but He does promise that you will never have to sail alone. So when you feel weighed down by life’s burdens, may you be lifted up the Spirit, renewed by the assurance that God is with you even when no one else is.

Hello Goodbye (Friday Devotional)

“Then [Jesus] led them out as far as Bethany, and, lifting up his hands, he blessed them. While he was blessing them, he withdrew from them and was carried up into heaven. And they worshiped him, and returned to Jerusalem with great joy; and they were continually in the temple blessing God.”

- Luke 24:50-53

Nobody likes to say goodbye. Children are inconsolable when they learn that one of their friends is moving to a faraway city, often sobbing in their room at the unfairness of it all. Parents are more composed but no less fearful when they take their child to college, finding any excuse they can to linger for a few extra moments. And of course, no one is ever truly prepared for their final goodbye to a dying loved one, an occasion that often leaves people wrestling with feelings of sadness, bitterness, and anger. “Parting is such sweet sorrow,” wrote Shakespeare, but we are prone to miss the sweetness and sink into the sorrow.

So when Jesus withdraws from his disciples and is carried into heaven, an event the church marked yesterday, his followers’ response is puzzling. You might expect them to try and cling to him like Mary Magdalene did at the tomb, unwilling to let him go just yet. You might think they’d shout to him as he rose into the clouds, pleading that he stay just a while longer. When he had vanished from their sight, you might imagine them being frightened or bitter or even angry, suddenly and intensely aware of how alone they are now.

Yet Luke tells us they met Jesus’s ascension with a different response: “they worshiped him, and returned to Jerusalem with great joy; and they were continually in the temple blessing God.” They had met the cross with fear and the empty tomb with disbelief, but they now met the ascension with joy, knowing in the light of the resurrection what they had not understood before—that Jesus might be leaving them for now, but he was not forsaking them. He would come back soon, and in his absence would give them the Holy Spirit, that they might better serve the Father to whom Christ was now returning. Jesus was leaving them, but not empty-handed: they had a promise, a partner, and a purpose. And because of this, they had one more thing: joy.

Jesus’s ascension seems at first like something to be mourned, not celebrated—why, only 40 days after conquering death, would Jesus leave us again? But if all you see in the ascension is a goodbye, if all you can think about it is what once was and what might have been, then you miss what can be. On that mountaintop, Christ gave us the incredible obligation and opportunity to share his gospel, to love as he loves, to act as witnesses to what he has done for us. With Jesus no longer walking the byways of Judea, we then are tasked with ministering in his name and under his power, even as we eagerly anticipate the day when he will return and complete his work.

May you, following the example of the disciples, rejoice in that privilege and that responsibility. May your worship resound not only with memories of what Jesus did once, but with thanksgiving for what he is doing today and with hope for what he will do tomorrow. The ascension marked the culmination of Jesus’s earthly ministry, the final proof that he had carried out God’s will—with the message of the gospel now entrusted in your hands, may you do the same.