Homerun

I was only five, but I had watched the big boys play baseball and dreamed about playing with them. I had been at the ball field every day that summer, watching and dreaming. On this particular day, a day that I’ll never forget, one of the coaches noticed me and asked if I would like to have a try at bat. I MUST have been dreaming!

Scared out of my wits, but more eager than I'd ever been in my life, I slipped through the space in the fence and made my way to the batter’s box. He handed me a small, wooden bat and guided me up to the plate. I knocked the dust off my shoes, as I had see the big boys do, took my stance, such as it was, and waited for the first pitch.

Whoosh, pop!

The pitch was perfect, but I just stood there as it whizzed by. “Strike one!” growled the umpire.

Whoosh, pop! The second pitch flew by.

“Ball one” shouted the ump. "Whew!" I sighed. I wasn't sure that I could lift the bat off my shoulder. I was so paralyzed by my excitement that I just stood there like a stone statue and watched the balls zoom by.

Whoosh, pop! This time, I managed to swing, but I missed the ball by a mile!

“Stri-eek!” yelled the ump in an almost mocking tone.

Yikes! Two strikes already, but before I could react another ball whizzed by.

Whoosh, pop!

“Ball two!” said the ump.

"Get a grip!" I said to myself, fearing the humiliation that I knew I would receive if I struck out in front of all the league players.

Whoosh, pop! "AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!" No time to think, just swing.

“Ball three!” said the ump.

“You can do it!" I said to myself. I knew that I had to hit the next pitch.

The pitcher wound up. I stepped back, planted my foot, and lifted the bat off my shoulder. He let the ball fly. I closed my eyes, stepped into the pitch, and swung for all I was worth.

Swoosh, crack!

I actually HIT THE BALL! I couldn't believe it. I just stood there with a bewildered look on my face as the ball disappeared into the outfield grass. I hit a grounder between first and second base, but with enough speed that it kept rolling and rolling. When I stepped up to bat, the outfielders had come almost into the infield, thinking I couldn't possibly hit the ball any farther than that. The ball rolled past them. I stood there with a goofy grin on my face, basking in the moment. Then reality struck!

“Run, boy, run!” the coach screamed.

I took off running toward first base with the bat still in my hand. “Drop the bat, boy, drop the bat!” yelled the first base coach! So I dropped it, right on the first baseman's foot.

“Go on to second, go, go!” the first base coach shouted, so I took off toward second base. The centerfielder had collided with the right fielder while the ball rolled past both of them and down the slope toward the river. As they untangled themselves and began chasing the ball down the embankment, I rounded second and headed toward third.

“Come on, come on!” motioned the third base coach. I sprinted toward third as the centerfielder fished the ball out of the shallow edge of the river.

“Go on home, go on home!” yelled the coach as I rounded third and headed for home plate. I couldn't believe that I actually was about to score. My heart was pounding even faster than my feet.

The ball came flying in from the centerfielder, but only reached second base. The second baseman relayed it toward home just as I was approaching the plate. “Slide, slide!” screamed the coach. I threw my feet in front of me and hit the dirt. Clouds of dust formed all around me. I couldn’t see through the cloud of dust, but after sliding for what seemed like a mile, I felt my feet hitting the edge of home plate with a thud. Pop went the ball into the catcher’s mitt. “SAAAFE!” shouted the ump.

I laid there in the dust for a minute, catching my breath and then it hit me. I had just hit a homerun! Not a grand slam, mind you, but a homerun, nonetheless! Wow! I couldn’t believe it. Me, a little five-year old baseball wannabe, hit a home run off a peewee league pitcher.

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You're probably asking yourself what this story has to do with anything, right? Well, then let me cut right to the chase. I still remember that experience as vividly as the day it actually happened, even though no one has ever been able to verify that it actually did happen. Maybe it was just a dream I had, but either way, the impact it has had on me is very real. I still remember the feelings I had as I stood there, petrified, waiting for that first pitch. I also remember how it felt to run the bases and the heart-pounding sensation of racing to beat the ball to home plate. But the BEST feeling was when I first realized that I had hit a homer and saw and heard all the other players and coaches cheering for me. Sometimes when I'm feeling down, I think about that experience and it makes me believe that I can do almost anything.

It doesn't much matter whether or not this story is true. What matters is that I never forget those feelings. Why? Because even though I'm all grown up now, I still experience paralyzing fear and discouragement. Remembering that experience helps me to view negative circumstances in a more positive light. If all those positive and wonderful feelings can be stirred in me from the mere remembrance of a perceived experience, imagine what could happen if I actually believed the truth about me? It's mind boggling.

The fact that my memory of this childhood story elicits such positive feelings in me tells me that these feelings are likely more the product of my will than of my intellect. In other words, what matters most is not whether or not I actually hit the homerun, but that I believe that I did or could. My emotions respond to my perception of an event or circumstance, regardless of whether or not it actually is real. Do you understand the true significance of this?

Dr. Maxwell Maltz wrote several books in the 60s on the subject of "Psycho Cybernetics." As I recall, the basic premise of this principle was that the human nervous system cannot discern the difference between real and imagined experiences. For example, if you're walking in the woods and hear or see something that you believe is a bear, your central nervous system responds to your perception, even if what you saw or heard turns out to be merely a squirrel or another hiker. If this principle is true, and I happen to believe that it is, then imagine the power it gives us over our worst feelings.

Upon closer examination, the theory of Psycho Cybernetics sounds very much like one of my favorite verses from the Bible. "For as he thinks in his heart, so is he." (Psalm 23:7a) Even though truth is not relative, our perception of it may be. That's why it's so important that we accept and believe what God says. That, to me, is the ultimate, undisputable truth. Dr. Maltz just helped me to understand that I have the power to overrule my negative feelings by replacing negative thoughts with positive ones. If I think I'm a loser, you can bet I'm going to live up (or down?) to my own expectations and act like a loser. If, on the other hand, I believe what God says about me, I will ultimately act accordingly. The only real effort I had to put into my homerun experience was to keep running until I reached home plate. I had to believe that I could make it or I would have stopped short.

Simply believing something doesn't immediately change how we feel about it, but if we act in faith on the facts of God's Word, our feelings will inevitably follow.

Remember this principle the next time you're at bat!