In the waning days of September 2003, I sat down at my computer, contemplating the drizzle dripping past my window, I could not help but mourn the passing of my beloved Detroit Tigers.
I remember my beloved in the days of her youth. Larry Herndon’s running catch in leftfield to end a season of magic. Darrell Evans storming the field. Sparky tossing his bubble gum aside to scream a song of celebration.
I remember pitchers with promise, rookies who played as if it were a privilege, and sluggers that would hit in the clutch.
That was long ago…
Until the magic returned in 2006, the last time the Tigers had tasted the playoffs I was a sophomore in college. Ronald Reagan was president, Lucille Ball and Betty Davis were still alive, and the Berlin wall was still standing.
That was a long time ago…
In 2003, the boys of summer were putting the finishing touches on what was to be one of the worst season in the history of Major League baseball, after closing out the previous decade with the worst combined record in all of baseball (580-811).
But there I was checking the box scores. Every day. Every game. Every season for as long as I can remember. There I was tuning in the game on my car radio. There I was catching the action on the tube. There I was wearing the Olde English “D”.
These last two years have been a tease. Good enough to give me hope. Bad enough to dash them without mercy...
Here I am returning to the scene of the crime...
And here I am shaking my head. Still faithful. Still hopeful. Still a fanatic.
I cannot help but turn to the word of the Lord as written through the prophet Jeremiah in Lamentations: “This is why I weep and my eyes overflow with tears. No one is near to comfort me, no one to restore my spirit…See, O Lord, how distressed I am! I am in torment within, and in my heart I am disturbed… People have heard my groaning, but there is no one to comfort me… My groans are many and my heart is faint.” (1:16-22)
Woe is me!
Woe to the Tigers for engaging me in this disturbing love affair. Woe to the Tigers for receiving me into this agonizing union. Woe to the Tigers for trampling my faithfulness.
“May the day of my birth perish, and the night it was said, ‘A boy is born’!” (Job 3:3)
… get a grip, Rev… take a deep breath…
I have the tendency in my spiritual journey to examine everything in life as if God were speaking, even through the most mundane events. So I can only wonder if my lifelong relationship with Tiger baseball and their ongoing tease can or should relate to the Lord’s eternal relationship with me- perhaps in the form of a modern parable.
God once instructed the prophet Hosea to marry an adulterous woman to painfully illustrate the enduring betrayal between the lover (God) and His beloved (His people). Peter had to look Jesus straight in the eyes and behold His pain after he betrayed Jesus three times (Luke 22:61). Scripture is filled with stories of grief and pain that flowed from the throne of heaven on account of our collapse as a people of God.
The Lord’s love is abiding, but ours is fleeting. His faithfulness is unconditional, but ours is limited… even through the best of intentions.
But Jesus is still here…
I have fallen so frequently and so far since my love affair with Jesus began that I wonder why He still is still with me.
And it’s not as if He’s merely checking my box scores at the end of each day, simply observing from afar the number of my errors. Jesus is intimately involved in my life. He rejoices in my faithfulness (John 15:9-11). He takes pleasure in my childlike faith (Luke 10:21). He feels my pain (Acts 9:4). But He can also become angry at my shallow religiosity (John 2:16-17), and tearful at my ongoing betrayal (Luke 19:41).
Through it all… amazingly… He rejoices! Jesus deeply examined the cost of becoming our biggest fan- His death on the cross- and He found joy (Hebrews 12:2) in this blessed union between the lover and His beloved (Ephesians 5:25).
It’s an extraordinary gift to be on the receiving end of that kind of admiration. That, despite my ongoing failure, Jesus is still here with me.
So as I sit down at my computer in the final days of this most unusual season, contemplating the drizzle again dripping past my window, I cannot help but celebrate a life-long love for my Detroit Tigers... once again.
I am- indeed- always a Tiger.
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