Self-Evident Faith (Friday Devotional)

 

For I am not ashamed of the gospel; it is God’s saving power for everyone who believes, for the Jew first and also for the Greek.

- Romans 1:16

An undue amount of my attention the past few weeks has been devoted, as you might expect, to the Texas Rangers’ improbable postseason run. I’ve listened to games on the radio, I’ve followed them on the MLB App, I’ve watched them on TV, and I even attended a game in person last week. As they advanced closer and closer to a World Series berth, I grew more and more excited (and nervous!) So when they defeated the Houston Astros in the league championship series on Monday night, securing a trip to the World Series, I was overjoyed.

And as this week’s gone by, with the team and its fans afforded a few days to catch our breath before the World Series starts tonight, I’ve noticed something interesting: everybody from high school friends to church members to the crossing guard at my son’s school wants to talk with me about the Rangers. Totally unprompted by me, they want to high-five over the team’s success or ask for my prediction about the upcoming series or check to see if I’m going to attend a World Series game. I’m not usually the one bringing it up, but I have made my passion for the Rangers so self-evident over the years that they know how important this run is to me. My fandom is a mystery to no one.

Fandom and faith aren’t the same thing, not by a long shot. But just as I wear my loyalty to the Rangers on my sleeve, we are all called to proudly wear the name of Jesus. Believers are called to be the Lord’s witnesses, telling his story to all who will listen. We’re called to be his ambassadors, representing him in the world. And we’re called to do these things in a spirit of joy, undertaking the work of gospel proclamation not as a frightful chore, but a holy opportunity.

Just as there are obnoxious fans—the ones drunkenly bellowing at the top of their lungs from their seats in the grandstands—there are also believers whose zeal is so aggressive that they give evangelism a bad name. But the bleacher creature’s antics don’t stop the rest of the fans from cheering, and neither should the sins of a few bad actors cause the rest of us to be ashamed of the gospel. You have been saved and given new life in Christ—that ought to be something you’re excited enough about that you don’t want to keep it a secret!

Because of what you’ve shared and how you live, I hope the people in your life know you’re a Christian, that your love for Jesus is as self-evident as my love for a baseball team. People know what’s important to you—so I pray they know about your faith.

The City of Brotherly Love (Friday Devotional)

 

Therefore encourage one another and build up each other, as indeed you are doing.

- 1 Thessalonians 5:11

One of the best stories of this year’s baseball season has been that of Trea Turner, outfielder for the Philadelphia Phillies. Over the offseason, Turner signed an 11-year, $300 million contract with Philadelphia, his reward for years of All-Star play in Washington and Los Angeles and a deal that would presumably plant him in Philly for the rest of his career. As you might expect with a contract of that magnitude, the expectations for Turner were sky-high: more All-Star game appearances, playoff berths, and maybe even a Most Valuable Player award somewhere down the line. Anything less would be seen as a disappointment.

So it came as a shock to everyone when Turner’s season got off to a disastrous start. Having won a batting title as recently as 2021, Turner was now hitting barely above .200 at the All-Star break, the kind of batting average that would get some players sent down to the minor leagues. A full four months into the season, Turner looked lost at the plate and was visibly despondent, telling reporters after one particularly rough outing, “Obviously, I’m the reason we lost the game.”

In Philadelphia, a city notoriously tough on its athletes, a place where fans once booed and threw snowballs at Santa Claus, the assumption among outsiders was that the newly signed Turner was dead in the water. Philly fans would eat him alive; he might never win them over after such an abysmal beginning to his tenure there.

But the fans surprised everyone when the Phillies started a new homestand in early August. Every time Turner came to bat, the fans rose to their feet and cheered like he was the lovechild of Paul Revere and a Philly cheesesteak. Not only did they not boo him, they roared rapturously, giving him a standing ovation every time he came to the plate.

And something incredible happened. That first night he notched an RBI single. The next day he got two hits, including a home run, and drove in four runners. Day by day, he seemed to recover his form, hitting like the Trea Turner everyone had known before 2023. Billboards paid for by Turner started popping up all over the city, simply saying, “Thank you, Philly.” From that first day the fans rose to cheer him, Turner hit .337 with 16 homers and 9 steals in 48 games—the kind of stats that, over the course of a regular season, would garner MVP votes. And as I write this, Philadelphia is currently two wins away from a World Series berth, with Turner helping lead the way—and the turning point, according to everyone, was when Phillies fans rose to cheer an athlete who deserved nothing but boos.

We underestimate the power of and the need for encouragement. We often regard it as a nice bonus after a job well done, something you shouldn’t necessarily expect but which can serve as a cherry on top when you achieve something. Encouragement comes on your best days, if it comes at all, as a direct result of your success.

But for believers in Jesus Christ, encouragement can be something better: an act of grace. When the world says your brother is a failure, you can remind him he is a child of God. When your sister is convinced she’s worthless, you can tell her Jesus doesn’t think so and neither do you. When somebody’s performance calls for booing, you can rise to your feet and offer a standing ovation instead.

If all we give our fellow believers is what they deserve, we’ve learned nothing from the cross. If we demand excellence, or worse, perfection, then we can expect nothing but disappointment. Better then to lift up those who cannot lift themselves up, to offer hope to those who see little reason for it. Philadelphia fans did it this season—perhaps the church of Jesus Christ can learn a thing or two from the City of Brotherly Love.

Seeing the Wonder (Friday Devotional)

And amazement seized them all, and they glorified God and were filled with awe, saying, “We have seen extraordinary things today.”

- Luke 5:26

The first time you’re in an airport, it feels like a wonderland. To your left there’s a souvenir shop with at least 10 things you gotta have; please, Mom!!! To your right are ten of your favorite fast-food restaurants, all within spitting distance of one another. Out the window are jumbo jets, the kinds you’ve previously only seen as toys. And then there’s the sheer vastness of the place; it’s like a whole city singularly focused on getting travelers where they need to go. To a child, an airport is awe-inspiring.

But the more you travel, the less fascinating it becomes. Like a mall or a school or a DMV, the airport becomes just another feature of civilization—important, valuable, but not particularly interesting. You’re glad they exist when you need them, but beyond that you don’t think about them much.

But just yesterday, as we made our way through Portland International Airport to get to our gate, I was reminded of that initial awe. I was strolling down one of the moving walkways—those horizontal escalators which get you down long corridors a little faster—when I saw something unusual coming my direction. On the moving walkway parallel to mine was a father sitting down with his baby boy in his lap. The baby was giggling and looking all around as they inched forward, completely captivated by the experience. To all the busy travelers—including me—the walkway was merely a convenient conveyance. To him, it was wondrous.

It can become far too easy to regard God Almighty the way we regard the airport. When you first come to know him, you are amazed, inspired, and enraptured. You want to taste living water in gulps, to pore over Scripture for hours, to worship without ceasing. But time goes by and passion wanes and, even as you (hopefully) mature in your faith, you also lose that initial zeal. Awe is replaced by familiarity and passion by routine, and before you know it, life in Christ starts to feel like the same old, same old.

I hope that baby in the airport will inspire you to recapture that sense of awe you once had—not toward the airport, but for the God who created, saved, and sanctified you. Look to him today with the wide eyes and the simple faith of a child. For he is not a mundane Lord—he is wondrous.

September Reading Log

 

Another month, another stack of books. Here's what kept me occupied in the mornings this September!

A NICE LITTLE PLACE ON THE NORTH SIDE by George F. Will

In preparation for a short weekend in Chicago, including a trip to Wrigley Field (mine and Lindsey's second, but a first for the kids), I picked up this slim little volume by longtime political columnist (and lifelong baseball fan) George F. Will, his third book on the sport but the first with so narrow a focus. A Nice Little Place on the North Side tells the story of baseball's most beloved ballpark, which (at least at the time of publication, 2 years before the Cubbies' historic 2016 World Series victory) was best known for hosting a century's worth of loveable losers.

The book affectionately chronicles the history of Chicago, the Cubs, and Wrigley Field with brief snapshots, never neglecting the big moments (from Babe Ruth's Called Shot to Steve Bartman's ill-fated catch) while also spending some time profiling lesser-known characters and telling more unfamiliar stories. Will also gets into his own personal history with the team while mostly standing at a remove as the narrator.

The book was a great primer on Wrigley Field for someone about to visit the Friendly Confines (I read more than half the book on the plane ride to Chicago) and would be a delight for any baseball fan. Will largely dispenses with the tics that annoy general audiences—namely his politics and his love for 10-dollar words—in service of telling the ballpark's story, and the book is well-served for his self-restraint. If somewhat dated post-2016, this book nevertheless serves as a great time capsule, and makes for a great read.

THE HOUSE ON MANGO STREET by Sandra Cisneros

A coming-of-age novel structured as a series of little stories (most chapters are 3-4 pages long), The House on Mango Street is the kind of book you could devour in one sitting or pore over for months. Barely 100 pages long and written in the voice of its 12-year-old narrator, it's a simple enough book to be required reading in many middle school classrooms. But the depth of feeling and issues addressed within make it the kind of novel that rewards a slow, careful reading, no matter your age.

The House on Mango Street tells the story of Esperanza Cordero's adolescence, starting from the time her Mexican-American family buys a small home in a poor Chicago neighborhood (a neighborhood which their arrival proves is in decline, according to its longtime white residents.) The book veers between universal experiences—betrayals by friends, crushes on boys— and the kinds of stories more unfamiliar to certain readers, like when her charismatic neighbor is arrested for stealing a car or when she is sexually assaulted at a carnival. By the time the novel ends, the reader is left with the distinct impression that Esperanza simultaneously appreciates and resents her upbringing, recognizing its undeniable impact even as she longs for something better.

The best novels are ones that take you somewhere unfamiliar and make it feel like home, planting you in an environment that you recognize even if you don't know why. Sandra Cisneros does this masterfully in The House on Mango Street, allowing readers of all backgrounds to step into the shoes of an adolescent Hispanic girl growing up in a rough neighborhood. Without ever preaching, she addresses issue of race, gender, and class, always in service of the story instead of to make a point.

I could have read another 300 pages of this book, but Cisneros was wise to instead leave the reader wanting more. With brief, meaningful vignettes, she tells the story of one kind of life, a story too rarely told. This book is required reading for a reason.

WHY WE LOVE BASEBALL by Joe Posnanski

Baseball is my favorite sport—indeed, one of my favorite things, period. Joe Posnanski is my favorite sportswriter—in fact, one of my favorite writers, period. So a Joe Posnanski book entitled "Why We Love Baseball" was basically written just for me. I couldn't be happier with the result.

Loosely organized as a series of 50 moments in baseball history, the book is really a collage of reasons why the game resonates with its fans. Some chapters detail, as you would expect, the sport's most legendary moments, like Bobby Thomson's "Shot Heard 'Round the World" and Hank Aaron breaking Babe Ruth's career home run record. Other chapters tell lesser known tales from baseball's past, like the year career minor leaguer Joe Bauman hit 72 home runs for the Roswell Rockets. And every now and then, Posnanski goes completely off script, like the chapter all about the climactic scene in "A League of Their Own"—did Dottie drop the ball on purpose???

It all adds up to pure delight for a baseball fan, the kind of book you want to read, reread, and then let a fellow fan borrow so the two of you can talk about it. When October winds down and the winter doldrums begin, this book will get you ready for spring training in no time.

MISERY by Stephen King

Trapped in a middle-of-nowhere cabin by a psychotic woman who insists she is his "biggest fan," author Paul Sheldon is forced by his captor to write a new novel just for her—all as he desperately looks for a way to escape from his plight.

This is the plot of Misery, one of Stephen King's most famous thrillers (thanks in large part to the movie adaptation that won Kathy Bates a Best Actress Oscar for her portrayal of the maniacal Annie Wilkes.) Like all King novels, this one is a page-turner, the kind of book that I returned to with almost every spare minute of my free time until I finished it. Light on plot, the book is propelled by the inner monologue of its protagonist and the unpredictability of its villain, both of which refuse to let you get bored.

One of the more autobiographical of King's books—the main character, after all, is a drug-addicted writer with a mean streak who suffers a nearly fatal car accident, all of which described King at a certain point in his career—this is also one of his more impressive efforts in terms of the writing. Far more claustrophobic than the movie (there are no scene changes, with every page taking place at Annie Wilkes' cabin), the story manages to feel grounded despite the wild premise—there are no aliens or monsters; just a truly crazy lady and the fear of what she might do next.

I'd probably say this is my 2nd favorite Stephen King book thus far; it sees King lean into his greatest strengths as a writer while steering clear of some of his crutches. Even if you've already seen the movie, give the book a try too!

ESSENTIAL MARVEL TEAM-UP VOL. 1 by Gerry Conway, Len Wein, Gil Kane, Ross Andru, Sal Buscema, et al.

'What if Spider-Man had a guest star in his book every week?'

That question was the elevator pitch for Marvel Team-Up, a Bronze Age monthly comic that ran for 150 issues from 1972-1985, the first 24 issues of which are collected in Essential Marvel Team-Up Vol. 1. With few exceptions (once or twice the Human Torch, rather than Spidey, is the protagonist), each issue sees Spider-Man patrolling New York City only to be confronted with a conflict that results in him working side-by-side with another Marvel hero. Over time, the book would become a great place to try out new characters and see if they'd stick—there was no better way to get eyeballs on a newbie than by pairing him with Marvel's most popular character.

The issues in this volume are the epitome of comics' Bronze Age: creatively underwhelming, canonically inessential, disposable fun. If you're looking for the kind of sprawling, operatic sagas that shake the Marvel Universe to its core, look elsewhere. If you're looking for deep insights into key characters, this ain't the comic for you. But if you wanted 15 minutes of self-contained superhero entertainment—the stories almost always began and end in a single issue; there are no lengthy arcs in this book—you could do a lot worse than Marvel Team-Up.

The art and writing are serviceable, the villains rarely rise above B-level, and you'll find more complexity in the sound effects than the plots. But if you want the reading equivalent of a Saturday morning cartoon, you'll have fun with this. And when reading a comic book, sometimes that's really all you need.

Pancakes and Prayers (Friday Devotional)

 

In the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed.

- Mark 1:35

Jim Palmer, over the course of his 19-year career with the Baltimore Orioles, distinguished himself in any number of ways. Three different seasons he won the Cy Young Award, given to the best pitcher in the league. Six times he was named to the All-Star team. He pitched in six different World Series, helping lead the Orioles to championships three times. He is widely regarded as one of the best pitchers in baseball history.

But in addition to all his accolades, he also had one of the game’s strangest pregame routines, a superstition that earned him the nickname “Cakes.” In June 1966, he ate a hearty meal of pancakes before one start and then proceeded to throw 5 shutout innings. The next game he did the same thing, and this time his teammates supported him with 16 runs of offense. However, on the day of his next start, a plane delay prevented him from enjoying another preparatory pancake breakfast—and he subsequently lost in a blowout to the Kansas City Royals. For the rest of the 1966 season, Jim “Cakes” Palmer vowed not to miss a pancake breakfast again. “I don’t know whether missing my pancakes breakfast had any bearing on the game,” he told reporters. “But I don’t want to find out.”

In the gospels, we learn about a different sort of routine which Jesus had—one not nearly so strange or unorthodox as Palmer’s. Early in the mornings, Jesus would frequently leave his disciples to spend some time in solitary prayer. Before he could spend the day ministering to his followers, he first needed to draw strength from his Father.

In a spirit of imitation, many believers today—I count myself in this group—spend a few minutes each morning doing what Jesus did, praying and reading the Bible before moving into the day’s responsibilities. Just a few moments of solitude and study can change the course of the day, setting a tone of righteousness first thing.

This routine isn’t necessarily for everybody—some people can’t stand the mornings; other people have a hard time focusing in total quiet. There’s no law that says you must have a ‘quiet time’ every single day; plenty of saints throughout the generations have grown in faith with any such routine. But it worked for Jesus. It works for me. And like “Cakes” Palmer said about his breakfast superstition—I don’t know whether it’s the difference maker, but I don’t want to find out!