Eyes on the Prize

It was the bottom half of a seven-inning game with the score tied at 14. In steps the number-four clean-up hitter, with the bases empty and one out. Standing at 6'4" and weighing near 250 pounds, he was tops in the league in homeruns this year, with one already in this game. But we could play in a clutch, too, when necessary. In fact, we had miraculously just scored eight runs in the top half of the inning to tie the game.

This was game two in the best of five series for the Texas-based Seagoville Federal Prison softball championship. We had won all three regular season games against this opponent. But they had taken game one, 10-9, in dramatic fashion. With a loss in this game, our backs would surely be up against the wall with a do-or-die game three.

I was playing deep in left field where this power-hitter loved to pull the ball. I was a few steps away from the warning track. He was not known to hit little bloopers over the shortstop or third baseman's head, so playing him deep was a safe bet.

Pitch one was a ball. Pitch two was a perfectly lobbed ball over the center of the plate. The behemoth of a batter swung mightily. At first crack, I thought to myself, game over, a walk-off homerun. Then I saw the ball launching high in the air, and I knew it was not going to be a homerun, not even close. I needed to start running, and not just running, but sprinting, as I was playing him extremely deep, and the ball was going to land in no man's land between the shortstop and me. So I took off after the ball. My first thought was there is no way I'm going to get there. But the ball was hit so high, and I kept getting closer and closer to the ball with each stride. My shortstop was sprinting right at me, and I at him. If someone doesn't call it, I thought to myself, there could be a nasty collision. With me having the right of way, I decided to call him off, not yet knowing if I could even get to the ball.

The ball hung up, and I realized I was going to get there. I took one last glance at my shortstop to see if he had heard me calling him off, to see if he was slowing up. With that one glance, I made a critical error: I took my eyes off the ball. I needed to trust my shortstop that he would get out of the way, but I didn't. And with that split-second hesitation, the ball came barreling down on me too fast, hit the top of my glove, and bounced to the ground. Error E-7! I was humiliated and embarrassed. I don't remember the last time I missed a fly ball, especially in a championship game. There was no excuse. I had failed myself and my team.

As the story goes, the batter reached second base on the error. The next batter went for it and was forced out at second by the following batter. Two outs. Then there was another walk to load the bases, which was followed by a game-winning single. Game over. We lost 15-14 and were down two games to zero.

Unfortunately, we lost a nail-biter game three as well; we finished in second place for the season.

How many of you have ever had an experience like mine or had a child experience something like that? How many of you have ever seen professional athletes commit errors by taking their eyes off the ball? If you are a St. Louis Cardinals fan like me, you've witnessed a lot of errors this year, including missed pop flies. But it happens. No one is perfect. Committing an error does add excitement and drama to the game, however, especially in later innings. Keeping their eyes on the ball is important to both batter and fielder. It can make the difference sometimes in getting an out, making a hit, or winning or losing a game.

But there's a larger lesson here, a much larger lesson.

Keeping your eyes on Jesus is critical. He is the Author and Perfecter of our faith. To live effectively we must keep our eyes on Him. Look away from Him and we will stumble. Keep our eyes off Him for too long, and there's no telling what might happen. We should be running for Christ, not ourselves, and we must always keep Him in sight. When we face hardship and discouragement, it's easy to lose sight of the big picture. But we're not alone. There is help. Many have already made it through life, enduring far more difficult circumstances than we have experienced. Suffering is the training ground for Christian maturity, and it has a way of developing patience for ourselves and with others.

By keeping our eyes on Jesus, it makes our final victory sweet!

How's your line of sight to Jesus been lately? Anything getting in the way? What you're dealing with might be a help to others. You can share your thoughts by clicking here and dropping us a line.

Thanks to Craig Perino for sharing his thoughts.

You can find Craig's blog by clicking here.