A Frustrating Joy

It has been a long weekend, filled with joy, frustration, joy, frustration, and more joy. It began with a powerful prayer meeting at the home of a fellow believer, a joyful occasion in which we were able to submit ourselves to God's love and allow Him to peer into the deepest recesses of our soul and extract the pain that we submitted to Him.

The power of His release was freeing, and this weight was lifted, bringing peace into each of our lives.

That was followed by a lengthy meeting at church on Saturday, the kind of meeting that we have seen in Scripture, particularly in the book of Acts, where issues are debated and the Body collectively works to discern God's Will. There were moments of pure joy and peace, followed by moments of intense frustration, ending with more peace at the end.

Immediately thereafter, I was on my way to the ballpark with my daughter to watch the Giants take on the Marlins, but more importantly, to hang out in Barry's house awaiting number Seven Fifty Five. Alas, it was not meant to be, but a father/daughter night at the the ballpark was the perfect way to end this Saturday, especially when it meant the hometown nine pulled out their fourth straight win.

Today was our weekly church service, which had moments of pure joy, but was followed with yet another meeting, in which there was once again moments of frustration, yet also moments of education, seeing the varying points of view showing the care and love that individual members have for this particular community of believers in Jesus.

The day ended, once again, in another house of baseball...this time San Jose Municipal Stadium, home of the single A San Jose Giants, the California League minor league affiliate of the aforementioned San Francisco Giants. I took 4 kids, my own and 2 of their friends, on this 45 minute sojourn south of our hometown to meet with Will and his family, sit in the inexpensive general admission seats, watching these minor league ballplayers play with intense passion, while watching various fans play games for prizes in between innings, or dancing to YMCA or doing the Chicken Dance.

The minor league nine won 2-1 in a quickly played game that lasted approximatlely 2 hours, with the Giants' winning pitcher going the distance with 15 strikeouts.

The passion that we have as baseball fans came out in the top of the 9th, as the leadoff batter for the Lake Elsinore Storm hit a quick triple. The next batter struck out. The third batter of the inning was walked and stole second base. The next batter struck out.

I looked at the kids. They were clapping and heckling the next batter.

"Hey batta batta...hey batta batta...sa-wing batta!"

First pitch ball.

Second pitch...a strike.

Next pitch...a long foul ball.

The couple of thousand fans in the stands were yelling, standing up with the 2 strike count. Breaking pitch...swing...and a miss!

Giants win!

We high-fived each other. We didn't know any of these kids, but it didn't matter. Baseball had healed us tonight. Baseball allowed us to be kids, to see the passion of the kids entranced by the simplicity of the game. I was able to let go of any frustrations I may have held this weekend by drinking a soda, eating a hot dog, and watching kids watch baseball and play baseball-themed carnival games on the concourse outside the ballpark.

I was at peace again. And I felt joy.