Wanted

From his slightly elevated mound of dirt at Tiger Stadium, Jack Morris stared down the slugger for the Yankees. Jack nodded through the catcher’s signs and settled in for the pitch. As the ball crossed the plate, the batter swung and connected on a long, fly ball to right-center. The crack of the bat on the ball shocked the team into action, but it was only the center fielder who had a chance to catch it. Covering half of the outfield in a couple seconds, everyone in the ballpark held their breath to see if he would make the play. 

Full sprint. Glove extended. Ball descending. Last chance. Would he… ?

Growing up on the western side of Michigan, I followed the Detroit Tigers. We made it to a game maybe once a year, but summers for me included falling asleep with the window open listening to the Tigers on the radio. It became a rhythm that now drips in nostalgia as I recall those golden years of youth. 

While following the Tigers today is more of a habit than a happiness, I’ll still wear my hat with the old English D. It represents deep story for me on many levels.  

I wore that Tigers hat to a Brotherhood weekend led by Restoration Project. It had been months since I sat around a table with close friends and had a chance to slow down and find a space worthy of being aware, curious and kind with each other. But finally, intentionally, we honored each man’s stories. 

And the question I offered to my brothers was essentially... “Do I have what it takes?” In moments of striving and insecurity, I will push through and force things to happen. I will covet the stage, the spotlight, the center. I look for ways to win, to shine, to make the play. Because, I’ve learned that in those “prime” places and in those “pinnacle” positions, I feel satisfied. I hear the applause, and it says “YES, YOU DO. YOU MADE IT.” 

But the applause fades. And the question returns. 

Several days later, another close friend shared a few words and verse that had recently meant a lot to him. He talked about our desire as men to be the Hero. I resonated. I wanted to be a hero, because heroes get honored. I wanted to be used by Jesus to “make the play.” But my friend also talked about the people who surrounded the story of Jesus. Most were not called to be heroes. They weren’t called for usefulness. They were called for something else. 

Jesus went up on a mountainside and called to him those he wanted, and they came to him. (Mark 3:13)

Back to baseball and the outfielder on the run… that outfielder was me.  

Full sprint. Glove extended. Ball descending. Last chance…And...I made the play. I felt the weight of the ball strike my mitt as the 40 or so parents behind both dugouts cheered. It was heady stuff for that 11 year old. Making the play equals getting applause. 

As I told that story to my brothers, they listened. They were curious rather than controlling. And they offered kindness. 

“What if you don’t need to be the one to make the play? Rather… what if it’s enough just to be on the field?” And… “Jesus didn’t call people to be used. He called people He wanted.” 

I have sat with those words for days and days. If you know me well, you are aware that I gravitate to center stage. I have stories of applause--and criticism--that have conditioned me to seek those “prime” places and “pinnacle” positions in order to answer this nagging question… “Jesus, was that enough? Are you satisfied with me?”

And Jesus has responded so gently, so generously… “I did not call you for you to prove yourself to me. I called you, simply because... I want you. I want you on the team, on the field. You were not called to be useful, you were called because you are loved.” 

Maybe you carry the same question, the same weight. Maybe you are looking for the same answers every time you make the sales pitch or take the promotion, lead the group discussion or guide the weekend retreat? Maybe it’s hinged on your new proposal, contribution or idea? Maybe? 

Jesus calls those He WANTS. I am finding joy in merely being a center fielder. Yes, occasionally, I’ll get a chance to “make the play,” but it’s only after I’m wanted. 

You and I are on the field. How do you think Jesus responds?

Bart Lillie 
Restoration Project Chief Catalyst