Pastor Jeff began this morning’s sermon with a wonderful image- He held up to the congregation a nondescript baseball, which had obviously been around for a long, long time. (It was a dark gray rather than the gleaming white of a brand new ball.) He said he came across this the other day in a big bin in the garage which houses all kinds of stuff like shin guards for soccer, paddles for the canoes, old catcher’s mitts, etc. – the stuff one finds in a household full of sports lovers.
However, this baseball would be safely up on the shelf in most homes because it’s almost fifty years ago – and it bears the autographs of some of the 1965 New York Yankees, including a guy named Roger Maris. In fact, if it had been treated more carefully over the years, it would probably be worth considerable money today. But as Jeff said, baseball for him has never been about the collecting and preserving of old relics – baseball cards and other collectibles – but about getting out there and playing the game. And he said that this precious baseball has been off of its special place on the shelf many times over the years and has obviously been used a lot over the years. (He said it even bears the mark of having been struck by a golf club at one point.) But he says that he kind of likes the fact that this baseball has so many scuff marks on it – because baseball is a game of scuff marks, on our balls and mitts and even ourselves as we throw ourselves wholeheartedly into the game. (And by “we” , I of course don’t mean me. I mean any of you who play this game.)
He went on to draw a neat parallel to the parable of the man who gave out bags of gold to three of his servants – 5 to one, 2 to another, and 1 to another. And the first two did something with their gold and doubled it on behalf of their master. . . but the third one took his one bag of gold and buried it so nothing would happen to it. . . which enraged the master. The point of the story is, of course, that gifts are given to us to be used – and to be grown into something even greater. It was an ironic choice for a gospel lesson since there are people across the country who are probably tempted to take all the money they have and stuff it underneath their mattress and wait for this unrest to quiet down. . . which might feel good but which is a mistake, in more ways than one.
But Jeff also drew a second parallel to the church and more specifically to the building. . . and said that the mark of a vibrant church is its scuff marks, because it shows that the place is being used – that people feel welcome there – and that life is happening there. The worst thing a church can do is mostly worry about preserving itself in the most pristine perfection possible. A few scuff marks are a sign that the church does not belong in a museum display, but is alive.
I’m no athlete – aside from a little tennis and walking on a treadmill – but even for someone as athletically dense as I am, this picture made a a lot of sense…. and even makes me hopeful that some of the untidiness in my life, besides being an eyesore, is also a sign of life. (Of course, when those messes stop looking like scuff marks and more closely resemble a landfill, there’s a problem.) I guess the idea is that it doesn’t hurt for our lives to look “lived in” – and maybe even a bit banged up and bruised from time to time. It means we’re taking life’s gifts and opportunities and really doing something with them.
Of course, leave it to me to gravitate to any parable which encourages people to be messy.