Years ago, on a warm, summer night at a girls softball game, I overheard a player complaining to her coach, “… but I don’t want to play outfield!” Just then I heard the smack of the bat. The ball flew over the pitcher and sailed over second base. Runners on the loaded bases began sprinting. There came a shout from the outfield, “Mine! It’s mine!” The outfielder jogged forward a few steps, opened her glove and caught the fly ball. The inning was over, four scores averted.
Infield positions are appealing. Seven out of ten plays are stopped at first base. Pitching is glamorous. In fact, hardball is a pitcher’s game. Shortstop is a popular position because so many balls are hit to that position. If the hit is a pop fly, the catcher completes the play. But one should never underestimate the importance of the outfield position.
The outfielder is the back-up player, and baseball would not be baseball without the assist. When a ground ball is missed, the outfielder does not complete the play, but returns the ball to the infield; the outfielder assists in the play’s completion. Andrew brought Peter to Jesus and Jesus did the rest. Andrew goes back to the outfield. Jesus elicits from Peter the “good confession.” Jesus promises to build his Church upon this Rock. But suppose Andrew had never made “the assist?”
And that is why every Christian should be ready when needed. When I was small, no one could hit the ball all the way to the outfield. Outfielder was the boring position. When the ball finally did come sailing out, it found us sitting on our glove, not ready. In 1952 at the Royal Festival Hall of London, Dr. Boyd Neel was conducting The Banks of the Green Willow, that called for a French horn solo. But when the baton came down for the solo, there was only silence; the soloist was not there, but backstage.
And the outfielder is the last-chance player. In Acts 8, Luke reports that the treasurer of the queen of Ethiopia “had come to Jerusalem to worship.” All this took place after the glory of the Resurrection, after Jesus’ commission to the disciples, and after Pentecost. He had been in Jerusalem an entire week and had not been approached by a Christian. Luke tells us “he was returning.” He had flown over the pitcher and sailed over second; he was almost lost to the Faith, but Philip, out there on that Gaza road, in the outfield, made the last-chance save. Philip “proclaimed to him the good news about Jesus.” You never know when you might be someone’s last chance, last hope, last refuge; someone’s last link to life abundant.
The woman with hemorrhage “had been to many doctors.” Jesus was her last chance. A mother with an epileptic son said to Jesus, “I brought him to your disciples, but they were unable.” Jesus was her last chance. Jesus told of a man who fell among thieves. A priest and Levite both passed him by on the road. A foreigner—a Samaritan—was his last chance. A criminal, in the midst of his execution, asked of Jesus, “Remember me;” and making a lastchance save, Jesus speaks his most personal, intimate promise of salvation: “Amen, I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.”
Oh, it’s grand to be an infielder, close to every play. But it can mean glory to cover the outfield— that last chance position— so that when someone with a great need is missed by so many, you may run forward, claiming, “Mine! It’s mine!”
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