Our eyes were locked; his arms up with palms out. As John lowered his arms, I trusted him enough to follow, dropping my body in perfect synch with his motion. It was almost as though John, the third base coach, was controlling me with a video game joy stick. Just as John dropped his arms straight down, my foot hit the bag, sliding in to beat the tag from the third baseman. My focus on the coach was the reason I was safe, successfully taking the extra base from first to third on a single to center field.
of the help of the third base coach.
It was a softball game in the Media League – a league composed of employees of several media outlets. It was your typical beer league. I opted for coffee in my to-go cup, though, as just the thought of chugging PBRs at 8:30 on a Saturday morning made my stomach churn.
The type of focus John and I had between us at that moment doesn’t happen very often. Still, most of us have experienced it, some more than others, me more than most. You see, I was named Peter, after the apostle, because my mother intuitively recognized I’d be an impetuous hardhead, just like Jesus’ No. 1 guy.
Yes – Here comes the analogy.
I recently had the occasion to stumble upon the story of Jesus walking on water (Mt 14:22-33). I like to think Peter was able to get out of the boat and walk toward Jesus on the stormy Sea of Galilee only because of his trust, and an extreme laser-like focus on Jesus. Being a mere mortal, though, at some point Peter had to look around and think ‘This is crazy! What am I doing?’
That was the moment Peter sank into the angry sea, only to cry out, ‘Lord, save me!’
Peter was a human no different from you and me. How many times have I lost focus on Jesus and started to drown? A lot. Way too often.
I know you’ve been there, too. That’s just how life is. So, if and when you start sinking when trying to walk on your own raging waters, there’s a rescuer you can trust. A coach to get you home safe. A lifeguard. A savior. Once you slide across the plate, or are you’re back on dry land, go ahead and crack open a cold one to celebrate – even if you don’t play softball.
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