Kevin Costner completed his baseball trilogy with 1999’s For Love of the Game, an utterly forgettable and predictable story of an over-the-hill pitcher who has to choose between the game he loves and the woman he loves.

This being a Kevin Costner movie, he of course gets both and everyone is happy. The relevance here, though, is merely the choice he has to make.

Now, every Christian man who has been paying even a modicum of attention in Sunday School should be able to blurt out the right choice. I certainly can. But sometimes it isn’t as clear in the messiness and glacier-like pace of the overlooked facets of life.

I confess with no amount of relief or pride that I have sacrificed my family on the altar of a ministry-that-never-really-was. From the beginning, my wife of 28 years has competed against a mistress for whom she – or any other woman – was ill-equipped: the church. Until recently, she has never had my heart: when an idle moment or unscheduled bit of time appeared, my heart and mind raced into the arms of the church. I was in hot pursuit of a mistress both enticing and unattainable.

Worse (in my mind), I did the same thing with my daughters: the bare minimum. I was there on all the right occasions but rarely more than that. And I am sure that they felt or knew that even though I was physically present my mind was often elsewhere, daydreaming about a ministry opportunity that would never materialize or some theological study that wound up being of absolutely no value to them. I was an adequate father, but not much more.

I am amazed that my wife and daughters still speak to me; why my wife smiles at me as often as she does is some of the clearest evidence I have of the mercy and grace of God.

But this isn’t a woe-is-me, poor-Mike kind of post. This is rather a description of the next fork in the road coming up in my life.

When I bought my first motorcycle in February of this year, my wife and I discovered a concrete, tangible activity (in addition to the obvious one) that we both loved to do and that we both love to do together. Realizing that this was something that we wanted to do a lot of, and to do as safely as possible, I bought a bigger bike that is capable of lasting for as long as we are likely to want to keep riding.

But at about the same time, we found ourselves part of a church plant. Along with four other men, I was called upon to be part of a formation committee to develop the core values, mission statement, and vision for our church. You can read about all of that here and here. A few months later, three of us became the first elders in the church; additionally, I began to assume more of the teaching and preaching responsibilities.

I’m not wild about being an elder – it’s too much like coaching and not enough like being in the game – but I have always enjoyed teaching and, based on feedback and results, seem to be pretty effective. So, too, with discipleship (a part of being on the elder board at our church): I’ve done it and been used by God to change some lives. (Assume that I’ve stated all the appropriate caveats and humble declarations.)

What I’ve wondered about but not fully had a chance to discover, however, is how I am as a preacher. I’ve long suspected that I could be a good preacher, my experience and training contributing to that belief:

    I won some awards as a journalist.
    My undergrad degree is in communication theory.
    I was unofficially tabbed by my fellow seminary students to be the most likely to land a swell job (I was actually one of the last).

Preaching is, to my mind, simply a verbal form of communication; the gift has to do not with mode or medium but with the results: does it impact people’s lives and does it illuminate God’s revelation? I’ve been a communicator all my life, from my days as a creative writer in high school to my days as a journalist with a daily newspaper, up to the present time as I communicate with clients and try to facilitate growth and change.

I like preaching. It seems easy and natural. Oh, I spend a lot of time preparing sermons and work hard at making the delivery as unobtrusive as possible, seeking to be merely a conduit for God the Holy Spirit to work. It’s just that I thoroughly enjoy the time spent studying and preparing.

Last night, though, my wife said something that I didn’t want but needed to hear. She told me that she really likes my preaching but hated my preparation: “It’s like you’re not even here.”

And my motorcycle sits in the garage, along with my cleats. I need to put one or the other away for good.


2 Cor 1:13