I think it’s called “commiserating”
I was in the stands along with other long-suffering parents. We were all there for a T-Ball game with kids who are just a little young for Little League. It’s a chance for them to get out run around and get dirty. But for the parents, you know the drill. It’s kind of like baseball with four bases and nine players on a team. But that’s where the similarity ends. The ball is a whiffle and it’s stroked off a Tee. No one ever gets out. First team to 15 … or is it 30, wins. These games seem like they never end.
But meanwhile the kids are having a blast and that’s what most important – or so we say to each other.
The parents bond over their time, their shared suffering. At the end of the game everyone smiles, the kids get popsicles and compare grass burns.
But there was one game, I missed the moment. My son was at bat and I was talking to a friend about a real baseball game, or work, or the weather. I don’t remember, but I wasn’t interested in this “sport”. My son’s at bat and his subsequent mad dash to first base was the cause of much cheering from his teammates. But all that mattered was what I thought. He glanced up in the stands to catch my face, my cheering. And I had missed the whole achievement because I wasn’t paying attention.
Life is total time continuum. The 70 years or so that I’ll live make up the sum of my days. But what marks life as important are really just a few moments in time. A first kiss. The first glance at an ocean overlook. A high school diploma. A baby’s first breath. A daughter at the end of aisle. We can all remember those singular seconds that changed our lives, that directed our future.
There are other moments, singular minutes that should have meant something, but they passed me by because I was busy, or distracted, or disinterested. By the missing the moment, I missed the opportunity.
And God moves in my life – giving me refreshment, or wisdom, or encouragement. But I often miss the moment of His interaction because I am too concerned over my bruised and bloody past, or too worried about my uncertain future. I miss the present blessing by missing the moment.
When Jesus wept over Jerusalem, he was sad because they missed the opportunity to turn and embrace their King, because they missed the moment of his appearance. They were visited by their Saviour, but they did not know it. He was weeping over the tragedy of a lost opportunity.
Does He weep over me, because I’ve missed the moments of His blessing? Is He sad because I won’t let go and let Him bless me?
Am I missing the moment?
Many thanks to Tony Graffam of Connecting Place church in Denver for the inspired preaching on this topic. It was a moment to share the launch last week.