When I was 16, I was invited to play softball for a team called the “Christian 9” – which never made a whole lot of sense to me since the league always fielded 10 players on the diamond at a time – because of the Short Fielder – and we only had a total of 12 players (reminiscent of Jesus’ 12 disciples??). Anyhow, because I didn’t yet drive, I needed a ride to my very first game. The coach offered to pick me up at an agreed location three miles from my home. It had to be that way as he would already be running late due to his work schedule. Now as was often the case in our one-car family, it had already been committed for that evening. So I had to walk to the prearranged pick-up place with spikes in one hand and glove in the other. Then I stood at the corner and waited – and waited – and waited some more.
After what was probably about the third inning by the time my excitement had been totally depleted, I walked the three miles back home. The coach called me the following day profusely apologetic. It seems in his eager anticipation to play, he had forgotten all about me. He felt really bad. He should have. But I assure you, I felt even worse. Why? because not only didn’t I get to play, but I also recognized that if I had been a stellar player, he would’ve never forgotten me.
We’ve all experienced times of eager anticipation, only to have our expectations dashed. But why not come out or tune in (via livestream) this Sunday morning to learn about our one anticipation that will never be dashed in the sermon I’ve entitled, “Great Expectation”.
