Spring is in the air.
The weather is warming. Easter is coming. And baseball has finally begun.
All Major League teams have reported for Spring Training.
I am a fan of most sports, but baseball has always been nearest and dearest to me. Some of my best childhood memories are of playing catch or opening a pack of baseball cards. Even as an adult, nothing can compare to the elation of walking through the tunnel at a Major League stadium, seeing the perfectly manicured grass, hearing the crack of the bat, and asking my favorite player for an autograph. There is beauty in the game - a gracefully turned double-play, a perfectly placed bunt, a hundred mile-an-hour fastball.
In my humble opinion, however, the most beautiful spectacle in all sports is the walk-off homerun.
It’s the bottom of the ninth. The scored is tied or your team is losing.
The winning run is at the plate. With one massive swing, however, the game comes to a miraculous conclusion. The announcer excitedly shouts, “Going, going, gone!” The batter jogs around the bases as the stadium roars with approval. At home plate, the entire team waits for him with their arms wide open.
As he rounds third base, he throws his helmet in the air and is engulfed by a sea of teammates as he crosses home plate.
A friend recently told me that’s how he pictures going to heaven.
I’ve stood by many a deathbed. This past week, I waited and watched with a family as their beloved mother and grandmother slowly died. There is little beauty in death. Death means pain and sorrow for those left behind. Many people in our world are terrified of dying.
But for a Christian, death feels like hitting a walk-off homerun, or to be more accurate, it feels like running around the bases after the homerun.
We didn’t hit the homeran. We didn’t win the game. Jesus did. He hit it out of the park with his death and resurrection. He won the victory for us.
But he allows us the walk-off celebration.
I’ve often tried to imagine how that must feel, jogging around the bases in a Major League stadium, as the crowd roars and your teammates wait at home plate to embrace you.
One day, I will know.
One day, you will know.
For us, as Christians, when we close our eyes to this world, we will open them to the roar of thousands upon thousands of angels and the saints of old cheering us on. We will jump up and down as we round third and head home, engulfed by family and friends we haven’t seen in a long time, hugging us, congratulating us, celebrating with us forever.
What’s hard is that our physical eyes can’t see that celebration as we stand by the deathbed of someone we love. We only see their breathing slowly come to a stop. We only see their lifeless bodies lying motionless on the bed. We immediately feel the pangs and sorrow of missing them - of missing the hugs and phone calls and good times here on earth.
As you struggle with the sadness and feel the pain of missing them, however.
I encourage you to picture them rounding third base to the roar of the crowd and being embraced by family and friends as they cross home plate. Then imagine the day when you yourself will round third and head home. See your loved ones standing at home plate together with your Savior Jesus, waiting to engulf you in hugs and celebration.
That’s how it must feel going to heaven.
Pastor Andrew Schroer has been a pastor for over 25 years and is currently serving at Redeemer Lutheran Church in Edna, Texas. You can find his latest books, “364 Days of Thanksgiving’' and “364 Days of Devotion,” on Amazon.com.
