Grace: The Baseball Card Locker

In 1969, life was all about collecting Topps baseball cards, and not just collecting, but how many you could collect. In our fifth grade classroom, you were only a serious collector when you reached 1,000 cards and owned every player on the starting lineups of the Braves, Cardinals and Tigers.

There was no E-Bay, where you could buy sets of cards for the cheap. There were no multiple card brands – just Topps - and not every store sold baseball cards. And, there was always the agonizing problem of buying packs of cards – with the hard piece of bubble gum – that contained doubles (cards you already owned). On the road to your 1,000-card goal, doubles did not count. Recess on the playground was all about the trading, and trading could get very serious.

The summer of 1969 was one of the greatest summers of my life.

• A friend loaned me the inaugural album of Grand Funk Railroad. Things were never the same after that. No more Richard and Karen Carpenter for me.
• My dad surprised us one afternoon with tickets to see the newly established Montreal Expos play our beloved Atlanta Braves, and I was interested to see what Canadians looked like. (I didn’t understand that most of these Expos were Americans, simply playing ball in Montreal.)
• For my 10th birthday, my parents surprised me with a “case of baseball cards” – not a pack or two or three – but an entire case of cards. A case of cards contained 25 individual packs. This easily threw me over the 1,000 card milestone and that moved me into the upper echelon of card collectors.

And then, just as my life reached a high-water mark, my friend Richard Webb burst my bubble. Through mail order, he had acquired – from the Lakeside Toys Company – a Baseball Card Locker. Now, rather than using a shoe box with post card team dividers, there was a cool, formal and hard plastic way to organize cards by team. The ante had been raised. I had to have a Baseball Card Locker. And, if you know me and my obsession over databases and organizing groups, well, the card locker ignited in me a frenzy. I had to have a card locker.

Richard provided the ordering information, and my heart sank. The card locker was $20. My birthday had passed. I had no money. My parents would not give me money nor would they order the locker for me until Christmas. So, I did the only reasonable thing I could. I went to see my granddaddy and we struck a deal. I would work Saturdays in his retail meat packing plant from 7 a.m. to 5 p.m. and he would pay me $20 per Saturday.

Yes, 20 samollians.

So Saturday came, and I staggered out of bed, ate a Pop Tart, rode my green bicycle down Brookwood Road to the "meat house", and met Papa R.C. as he opened the doors. Inside, he explained my duties. As customers came to the counter to request bacon, sausage, pork chops, pork loins, etc., my job was to run into the massive refrigerators and bring the products to the counter. When there were no customers, my job was to clean.

At 7 a.m., my intentions were good. I wanted to be all that I could be. I was a faithful employee through the morning. At lunch, my grandmother called me to the house for a sandwich, and I was more than eager to go see her. Back and forth trips to the big walk-in refrigerator had become monotonous for a 10-year old boy. And, let’s face it: I was only in this for the $20. And, as I figured it, showing up was the most important thing to do. He was my granddaddy – he was going to give me the $20 regardless of my work ethic.

After lunch, I slowly made my way back to the store . . . the long way. And, that afternoon, business was slow. I really didn’t want to clean and honestly thought it was a little beneath me to clean. So, I amused myself by hitting rocks with a dowel rod in the parking lot. I also tapped the Coca-Cola machine and drank the cycle . . . Coke, Sprite, Fanta Grape, and Fanta Orange. I drank the cycle three times. One customer showed up with a cute girl about my age, and being a confident flirt, I chased her around the parking lot for a while.  I was also watching the clock . . . 5 p.m. . . . $20 . . . Baseball Card Locker.

At the end of the day, my grandfather asked me empty the garbage cans. I did that, and when I returned to the store, I realized he had closed up and gone home. Where was my $20? This was awkward.

So, I went to his house, where he and my Granny were preparing to sit down to supper. I went inside, got a slow drink of water, giving him ample time to pay me. It didn’t happen.

Then, I was struck by a feeling. Had I really earned that $20? I had been a good employee at the start of my day, but after lunch I had not earned any money. In fact, I had drank a couple of bucks worth of soft drinks.

Dejected, I said "good-bye" in the awkward silence of their kitchen and left for the bike ride home. I walked outside under their carport and did the only thing I could do . . . I sat down on the steps and cried quietly to myself.

I had blown it. No $20. No Baseball Card Locker.

Finally, I stood, went to my bicycle, and prepared to ride home. And, that’s when the door opened. Papa R.C. walked out with my Granny standing in the door. She was crying, too.

He walked up to me and said, “I forgot to pay you” and he gave me $25 (more than our original deal). I looked at him, tears in my eyes and said, “Papa, I don’t deserve it.” Then, I just broke down crying.

“Well, you come back next Saturday,” he said. My Granny could not stand it any longer – that big woman almost jumped from the stairs to embrace me. She reminded me how much they both loved me, and I knew that they did. 

I went back the next Saturday, and the next, and many more Saturdays over the next three years. My grandfather never had a better Saturday employee than me. And, I was able to purchase my Baseball Card Locker. I own it to this day. It is a reminder about Grace.

This is not really about the Baseball Card Locker.

The Gospel writer Mark writes, in Mark 14:66-72, the story of Peter’s epic failure. Jesus has been arrested, and Peter is spotted by those in the crowd. He is accused of being a follower of Jesus – this revolutionary – and Peter denies that he is a follower. He denies it three times. The last sentence in the passage of Scripture is so very important and I don't want you to miss it: (v. 71) "Peter swore, 'A curse on me if I'm lying - I don't know this man you're talking about." (v. 72) And, immediately the rooster crowed the second time (as Jesus said it would). Suddenly, Jesus' words flashed through Peter's mind: 'Before the rooster crows twice, you will deny three times that you even know me.' And, Peter broke down and wept."

You see that Jesus' prediction of Peter's denial has come through, but I want you to really focus on Peter's brokenness at the reality of failing Jesus - His Lord and Savior. Peter is crushed at failing Jesus.

Then, we read in John 21:15-17 when Jesus returns to the disciples after His resurrection. Jesus asks Peter three times (once for each denial) if he (Peter) loves Him. Each time, Peter says, "Yes, Lord, I love you." Finally, Peter says, "Lord, you know everything. You know that I love you." And, Peter then feels the whitewash of Grace, of forgiveness for his denial, as Jesus says, "Then, feed my sheep." 

Grace is receiving the gift when we don’t deserve it. None of us deserve to live in peace; none of us deserve eternal life with Jesus. You and I can do absolutely nothing to deserve the sacrifice that Jesus made for each of us.

And, there is no easy way to come to Grace. The approach to Grace begins with the pain of knowing you don’t deserve it; the approach to Grace begins with a broken heart. Grace is available to but only belongs to those who approach it broken, ashamed, undeserving, and often lonely in despair.

And, because God loves us, He reaches out through the death of His son and the whisper of the Holy Spirit, and says, “I forgive you. Get up, and follow me.” That is Grace. It is beautiful, cleansing, and motivating. And, that's why there is no getting over it. People who are wishy-washy about faith don't have Jesus no matter what they say or do. Why? Because to recognize personal failure before the Lord and then to experience the Lord's Grace is life-changing. Like a little boy becoming the best Saturday employee ever, the touch of Grace is life-changing.

Have you done that? Are you living each day in Grace, knowing you don’t deserve it, and accepting it anyway.  And, how are you living in Grace undeserved? Are you passionate about loving and serving our Lord, and loving and serving others? Do you praise Jesus daily for His Grace on you? Are people coming to know Jesus through your life? If not, I beg you, in Jesus' name, to come fully to Him, broken, and experience only the Grace that He can extend.

 

Lucy's Story - A Parable

In September 2008, our German Shepherd, Queen, died after being bitten by a snake. Normally, a single snake bite would not kill a 100 pound, healthy German Shepherd, but it was the right bite in the right place, and she could not recover from it.

Matthew had never known a day of his life without Queen. And, it was his first encounter with the death of anything beloved. So, he was heartbroken. When I went to pay the veterinarian’s final bill, I took Matthew with me so that the veterinarian could console him – helping him understand what had happened and why death was a relief to Queen’s agony.

In the few days after Queen’s death, I thought it best to get another dog pretty quickly. But, none of us wanted another German Shepherd. It would be impossible for us to replace Queen, and another Shepherd would keep reminding us of her. So, I asked the veterinarian to recommend a good dog for a boy of nine, and she recommended that we get a beagle. Yes, I know, a howling, digging, and overly-playful beagle. “Every boy needs a beagle,” she said.

Not knowing anything about beagles, I asked her where Mathew and I might go see one and learn more about them. She directed us to an area breeder who raised beagles, taught them to rabbit hunt, and sold them across the country. I called him, and Matthew and I, on a Monday evening, went for a beagle visit.

It was a first-class operation. I learned more about the personality and temperament of beagles in 30 minutes than I suppose most beagles owners really understand. As we received an education worthy of The Discovery Channel, he pointed to female and said, "If you want one, I can let you have her for $100. She's a year old and completely up to date on shots. I can give you her health history.” And, he only wanted $100.

We became beagle owners.

Perhaps I was the victim of shrewd salesmanship because I believe he intentionally talked of the sale with Matthew’s ears on full alert. But, Matthew was happy, and our family is very comfortable with dogs. And, so we left with a one-year-old, full-blooded beagle that we named Lucy. When I completed the ownership transfer with the American Kennel Club, I learned that Lucy’s sire was paid royally for his stud services.This further added legitimacy to the man’s rabbit-hunting operation and to Lucy’s pedigree.

Let me add a bit of disclaimer. We love dogs. We are not indoor dog people. Vicki and I have had beloved dogs all of our lives. My family even raised full-blooded Cocker Spaniels. But, we are a family that understands dogs are dogs and people are people. We don't ever get that confused.

Lucy, just like Queen, was going to be an outdoor dog. Well, sort of.

As soon as we got home with Lucy, we noticed something was wrong with her. Though the September temperatures were warm, she was noticeably shivering – her heart racing out of control. As the boys moved in to love her, she retreated. I understood that all the noise was probably overwhelming to a dog with very limited human contact, and so we wrote it off to first-day jitters. I put her in Queen's extra large kennel box that night so she could stay indoors with us. I didn't want to put this terrified dog in our back yard for the night.

Over the next several days, the fear did not go away. In the back yard, Lucy went behind the shed, cowered in the underbrush, and stayed there all day. Where was the playful beagle? Where was the diggingest dog? Where was the howler?

We decided to continue bringing her in the house at night, if for no other reason but the human contact. So, at night, I went out to get her. I would approach her and she would run from me. She would not let us get near her. She did not threaten to bite me. She never snarled or growled. She didn't whimper. She just ran and hid - and hid well. And, she trembled. We tried everything.

Hoping to connect with Lucy, we tried everything to approach her in the yard and point her, at night, to the light and warmth of the house. But, she would not respond. Finally, I took a lesson from my childhood around the hog farm. We developed a system of corrals, forcing Lucy into smaller and smaller spaces until we could pick her up and bring her into the house.

When we brought her in, one of us would sit in the floor, holding her, consoling her as she trembled. We noticed that she never once soiled the kennel box, and so one night we left her out of the box. The next morning, she was in the exact same place we had left her the night before – a comfortable pet bed on the floor. She had not moved, or explored. And, no accidents. I opened the back door and she ran outside, and hid. In fact, let me interject here: In five years of coming in - or being brought in - at night, Lucy has never explored another part of our home. Once inside, she goes to her bed, curls and rests . . . and never moves until the next morning.

Days, weeks and months passed. We watched Lucy get more comfortable with the back yard, playing by herself. She took an old tennis ball, nudged it forward and then chased it down. We had a big oak tree cut down and she would perch on the stump like the ruler of the back yard. She owned the back yard, and we would spy on her through the window blinds. But, if we ever opened the back door or she saw us in the window, she would run behind the shed and hide.

And, at night, even on rainy and cold nights, she would not come inside. We physically had to bring her inside. Some nights, I can walk to the far corner of the yard, leave the back door open, and she will run inside on her own. But, she will not run inside if any of us are near the door.

Once inside, she curls up on the floor. One of us will often sit by her, love on her, and offer her a dog treat. She doesn't love back. She just rests.

Last year, Matthew and I built a small patio and fire bit. We are out there a lot, and I thought surely she would come up to the patio and sit with us. Nope. As we sit around the patio, she is hiding over behind the shed or under the shed. I even went to her one evening, and brought her to the fire pit. As soon as I let her go, she ran away.

This past winter, on a particularly cold, wet and miserable day, I looked outside to see Lucy cowering under the shed. I went to get her. I opened the door to our home and moved far from it, but she would not run inside. I went to the shed, and lay down on the ground, looking at her. I began talking to her.

“Lucy, why won’t you come inside?” I asked her. “Inside, it’s bright and warm, and we all love you. Out here, you are all alone, it’s dark, and it’s cold, and it’s lonely. Why are you so content to stay out here? Why has this gotten so comfortable for you?”

She just looked at me.

“Lucy, we aren’t trying to clean you up before we bring you in. Not one time in five years have we tried to give you a bath as a requisite to coming inside the house,” I said. “It doesn’t matter to us." (We do bathe her,  obviously, but as therapy it's always in the tub with warm water.)

She just looked at me.

“Inside there are people who genuinely love you. Even big Richard loves you though he doesn’t show it like Matthew shows it,” I said.

Finally, I got far enough under the shed that she let me get a foot, and then I inched her to me until I carried this mentally wounded, dirty, wet dog into the comfort of our house.

As I hope you understand . . . this is not a dog story.

I look around Lexington. I see hundreds if not thousands of people who would have gotten comfortable in the dark, cold, and lonely world that we live in. They have gotten comfortable with the lie that being a follower of Jesus is limited to an hour of dress-up on Sunday morning. Nothing about this world loves you and me – not one thing of this world loves us. Only in faith with Jesus, can we experience love that can't be defined. John 15:19: “The world would love you as one of its own if you belonged to it, but you are no longer part of the world. I chose you to come out of the world, so it hates you.”

I don’t understand why these good people won’t come inside of faith, where the pressure and pain of this world is made joyful and peaceful and hopeful. I don’t understand why people value this world more than they value Jesus, and, yes, they do, we do – all the time. I know people inside of faith are noisy, imperfect, and do stupid things – but it’s still a better place than living in the dark.  John 3:19: “ And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil.” (Any deed grounded in self-fulfillment is evil).

God doesn't expect any of us to come to Him in perfection. He doesn't ask us to get squeaky clean before we come to Him. He sent His son to us just as we are, and Jesus just says "follow me." Jesus never says, "take a shower, and then follow me." As the old hymn reminds us, "Just As I Am, I Come." You and I cannot get clean enough for a Holy God, and God knows that. He judges sin, yes, but he loves us enough to send Jesus to be with us. Psalms 130.3-4 – If you, O LORD, kept a record of sins, O Lord, who could stand? But with You there is forgiveness… I don't understand why people put up barriers, preventing their own faith from taking root.

I don’t understand why people can’t see that God loves us so much that He sent His son to save us. God didn’t say, “Find me on your own or go to hell.” No, he sent his son to crawl under the shed and be with us – to find us where we are and to love us right there. John 3:16-17 “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.” Jesus is still in the business of coming to us every day and saying, "Follow me."

I don’t understand why a loving God never gives up on us. No matter how much we resist Him. No matter how much we resist His love for us, God never gives up on us. He is always opening the door and calling us inside. It breaks my heart that people can’t let God love them the way He wants to love them.  Philippians 1:6: "God is the one who began this good work in you, and I am certain that he won't stop before it is complete on the day that Christ Jesus returns."

What about you?
Are you living in the light or are you comfortable in the darkness?
Perhaps you have even experienced the light, but still find a lot of contentment in the world. You can't serve two masters.
What’s stopping you from going into the dark places and talking to people about Jesus?
What’s stopping you from running to faith, full throttle, and discovering what God needs to do through your life?
How long will you live this life, day after day, living tomorrow just like today, knowing it’s better on the inside of faith, but unable to fully commit to it? How long will you waste the precious time that God has given you on this Earth to reflect the Savior who loves you?
Today, do something. Turn to Jesus. Come inside and fear no more.