Spring training
Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord! If you, O Lord, mark iniquities, who can stand? But with you is forgiveness. And I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits. I wait for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the morning, more than watchmen wait for the morning.
– From Psalm 130
Yes, in Arizona and Florida, American baseball begins today! My friend, now nearly sixty, remembers when he was ten, and his father hollered at him from the baseball stands, “You missed the ball! Catch it next time!” Everyone heard. He was embarrassed, but he went over to his father and whispered, “Dad, be quiet!”
Maybe his mom also elbowed her husband, but at any rate, his dad never did that again. My friend quickly forgave his dad. They loved each other.
And I remember when I was twelve. I helped Dad milk the cows in the evening, and he paid me a small allowance. I painted a rectangle on the brick wall of our barn, the size of a strike zone, so I didn’t need a catcher. For my birthday I got an Arvin eight transistor radio and listened to Harry Caray’s Cardinal games. My friend Danny’s dad took us fishing, and I have a very special picture of us all smiling in filthy white T-shirts holding heavy lines of big fish. I was happy.
Danny and I bought 45 rpm singles, black vinyl records with mostly red and yellow labels: “Dead Man’s Curve,” “Palisades Park,” “Breaking Up Is Hard to Do,” “It’s My Party and I’ll Cry If I Want To,” “Goodbye Cruel World.”
I have to admit, it sounds like we were having a puberty-driven pity party. But then Danny’s dad died, and my dad told me to stop buying records. Suddenly the sky really was falling. In a secret blood-brothers pact between us, Danny and I decided to disobey my dad. We kept buying records.
I slept so badly then. I think my brother John and I shared a room. The bathroom, which Danny’s dad had built for us before he died, was at the other end of the house. In those days I was sick almost every night. I threw up, and cried, and went back to bed, but even then, sleep slipped away for hours. Dawn could not come too quickly. A strange hard lump stuck out of the middle of my chest. I was sure I had cancer. Psalm 32 says: “My bones wasted away through my groaning all night long.” Yeah … that.
I felt so GUILTY, and I was sure that dad “marked iniquity.” My list of sins was getting to be as long as his arm. Finally I gave up. I confessed what I’d been doing. Buying all those awful records, wasting my money … whatever. Danny’s dad died, and I had cancer, and it was all my fault.
I was crying, I guess, avoiding my dad’s eyes, forgetting that he might be human, that he might also be a sinner, that he might have experienced his own forgiveness. I looked away, so I didn’t see him smile. But I felt his hand on my shoulder, and I knew he loved me.
My cancer suddenly disappeared. Dad relented and let me buy more records. The cows got milked. The Cardinals won another World Series.
Psalm 32 continues, “Then I acknowledged my sin to you, and you forgave the guilt of my sin.” There are plenty of times when I cry to the Lord out of the depths. But now I know he loves me.
Without a doubt.
Lord, please care for my dad in heaven, and for my friend’s dad in heaven, and for all of us. You are our hiding place, and you keep no record of wrongs. I can tell you anything, Father, and you will not look away. Your hand is right there on my shoulder.
http://www.davesandel.net/category/lent-easter-devotions-2018/
http://www.christiancounselingservice.com/archived_devotions.php?article_id=1663
