Just as one of my favorite “s” seasons comes to an end, another favorite “s” season begins.

And no… I am not talking about spring and summer.

I am referring here to singing season (the one just concluding) and softball season… the one just now cranking up. 

You may or may not know this about me, but I absolutely LOVE to sing. I’m not saying I am a great singer. But I’ve been generously described as “not bad” by one independent reviewer. 

[OK. Not “independent” at all. It was my wife, Joan. She’s the one who said that. OK?]

In the winter and spring seasons I sing with three different groups. The Loveland Choral Society, also with our church’s seasonal choir, and finally with the Lutheran Men of Song. There is something incredibly soul-satisfying about the act of singing… especially in a group. It vibrates the heart strings. It is a community effort that bonds me with the singers around me. Each new piece of music is a challenge presented, a challenge accepted, and – if all goes well – a challenge MET! Not to mention the amazing feedback you receive from an appreciative audience when you perform the music you’ve been working on.

As you can tell, singing is a thing I HIGHLY recommend. Whether you read music or not.

Then there is softball. Softball, believe it or not, offers similar payoffs to singing. I play on – and manage – a team here in Fort Collins, CO called the Battitudes. Clever, eh? 

We are a team made up mostly of old folks like me with a few young whippersnappers thrown in for good measure. We play in the local Parks and Rec league against teams of 20- and 30-year-olds and regularly get our butts whipped. BUT we have a lot of fun in the process. Like singing, softball involves practice and person-to-person bonding and community building. Also, like singing, there is great joy regularly mingled with great sadness. 

All that pretext leads to the posing of this deep, philosophical question: is life more of a metaphor for SINGING? Or is it more accurate to liken life to SOFTBALL? 

Life – just like singing and softball – offers us challenges. Life also is enhanced when shared with others in community. And even though I absolutely SWOON for the harmonic blending of voices in a disciplined, well-rehearsed choir, I sincerely hope that life is a whole lot more like SOFTBALL than singing.

Why, you ask, in your relentless pursuit of truth.

Because (I answer) singing demands PRECISION. An eighth note is EXACTLY a half beat. Not ¾ of a beat or ¼. An E minor note is exactly that. An E minor. Stray even a teeny, weeny bit up or down the scale from that precise spot and you have spoiled the whole thing. 

Singing is beautiful because of that precision. That blend of voices tickles the ears of the angels when done exactly, precisely as the composer intended.

SOFTBALL (or its cousin baseball, for that matter) allows for mistakes. A hitter who fails to get a hit two out of three times is considered a PHENOM! Drop a routine pop-up, throw to the wrong base, slip and fall on your way to score, and it’s, “HEY! Don’t worry! We’ve got you! You’ll get it next time. And if not, we’ll go out for some adult beverages after the game and enjoy a good laugh.”

Forgiveness abounds in softball. It’s where we win as a TEAM or lose as a TEAM. But hit ONE WRONG NOTE in a four-minute aria and that will be the only thing people remember. Might as well fold up your tux jacket and hit the showers. 

I will be eternally grateful that I have landed on God’s softball team and not in God’s choir. I have screwed up enough times in this life to fill an entire blooper reel on my own. And yet, every time I do… every time I mis-speak, every time I pratfall, every time I lash out angrily and hurt a friend or make a stupid decision… I hear God’s voice speaking through the author of the 65^th Psalm, reminding me that, “… When deeds of iniquity overwhelm us, you forgive our transgressions.” (Psalm 65:3, NRSVU). 

Do I always deserve forgiveness? Absolutely not. But I can rest assured as a child of the God of Abundant Grace and Mercy that it is extended to me without condition or reservation… 

Every

Single

Time

… Even when I start singing a half beat before anyone else in the choir.

Abundant blessings;