I played high school baseball on a field located in a bowl. I’m thankful for the field I played on because home plate and the infield used to be in right field. There’s a reason we wanted the old field to be in right field – we wanted as few balls hit there as possible (imagine a baseball moving along the ground at 70+ mph taking a sudden 45 degree right turn and you get the picture). Our team put in a lot of work on that field to take out the bumps and make it look nice. Even so, at my 3rd base position far away from right field, I was still liable to take a ground ball to the throat.
This is not a problem on today’s major league fields. They are meticulously manicured and, man, are they green (except for the dirt – still brown). But thanks to this article, I learned this wasn’t always the case. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud reading, “Groundskeepers at Cleveland’s Municipal Stadium (former home of Major Leagues Baseball’s Cleveland Indians) didn’t even bother with grass – for many years they painted the dirt green.”
How badly do we long for those green pastures? You know, the ones like Thomas Kinkade painted for us (also available as a religious throw blanket – you can’t make this stuff up!). Enough to spray paint the dirt. Enough to spray paint the lawn in a drought.
I want life to be easy. I want it to be all green pastures and quiet waters. In Jesus, I have all the water I could ever need to produce green pastures in my soul and here I am still climbing over the bodies of my fellow man for the last green spray paint on the shelf. I guess I figure as long as I have money for green spray paint, I lack nothing.