Hitting Singles in a Home Run World

Everyone wants to hit home runs, very few have the talent to do it.

I have an ongoing debate with a friend about Tony Gwynn. Gwynn played baseball for the San Diego Padres in the 80s and 90s, including the handful of years my family lived in San Diego as a kid. He lived in the same town as we did, where we’d sometimes see his car at stoplights. In Major League Baseball, the player with the highest batting average wins the “batting title.” Gwynn won it eight times. In baseball, a Hall of Fame batter hits .300 or gets a base hit 30% of the time. Gwynn averaged .338 for his career, meaning he got a base hit 33.8% of the time. Gwynn, though, didn’t hit very many home runs. A strong home run hitter will hit 30-40 home runs a year, but Gwynn averaged only 9 home runs per season. So this friend of mine says, “Yawn, nice singles.”

Contrast Gwynn with Barry Bonds. Bonds was my other home town favorite, from age 12 after moving from San Diego to the San Francisco Bay Area. Bonds hit more home runs than any other player in history. He has the record for most home runs in a single season (73) and for a career (762).

Obviously, if you have to choose between a home run and a single, you will choose a home run. It’s a single multiplied by four. If you have to build a team from the best players in baseball’s history, you would choose Bonds over Gwynn. Slugging homers surpasses slapping singles, if you have to choose. Most everyone, understandably, wants to crush the ball. But for every Bonds, there have been a zillion dudes who have swung for the fences and missed. Everyone wants to hit home runs, very few have the talent to do it. That said, even fewer have been able to do what Tony Gwynn did. Comparatively, sluggers with 30 bombs are a dime a dozen compared to hitters over .300. What Tony did took tons of talent, too. Tony was gifted.

Great Things for God?

Now I live with a consistent case of what my fellow pastor, brother-in-law calls “preacher brain.” So, obviously, the point here isn’t going to be about baseball. Instead, I look at two childhood baseball heroes, Tony and Barry (yes we’re actually on a first name basis in my mind). I see them, wondering whether I should “swing for the fences” like Barry or content myself with consistently smacking singles like Tony.

For my adult life, I’ve thought, “Barry.” Swing for the fences, make moves, do big stuff, stuff that matters. Envision a “God-sized” future and get after it. I’ve had drilled into my head that we should listen to the great missionary to India, William Carey, who famously preached a two point sermon in the late 1700s. Point 1: “Expect great things from God.” Point 2: “Attempt Great Things for God.” Swing for the fence. Do what it takes to do the big things.

But too often that mindset means you can cut a corner or two to get an edge. It means someone will risk their health with steroids (allegedly). That’s a recurring story of the home run hitting preachers and leaders lately. Expect great things? Check. Attempt great things? Check. Accomplish great things? Check. A cloud of suspicion around something not quite right? Also—too often—check. Now, I don’t think that making bold moves for God is wrong—just the opposite. If you’re got the skills (God-given talent) and the situation (God-provided opportunity). If you’re got the power and the right pitch, swing away. The problem is that too many of us don’t have the talent or the situation. We’re trying to pull an outside fastball into the bleachers instead of slashing it to the opposite field for a solid base hit.

A Quiet Life for God?

All of this to say, recently, I’ve become more content to view my life and calling as more like Tony Gwynn than Barry Bonds. Not that I’m a world-class hitter (so to speak) like Tony was. But that I’m becoming more content to make contact with the ball. A truism in hitting is “take what the pitcher gives you.” A truth in life is, “Take what God gives you.” I want to do the things God has given me, even if they’re not going to make a Top 10 plays list.

That’s exactly what the Bible tells us: “do your own things” (1 Thessalonians 4:11) as you “make it your ambition to live a quiet life.” At first, you would think that “ambition” and “quietism” would look like a linebacker in a leotard. It sounds almost like saying, “Be ambitious to be less ambitious.” And maybe that paradox hits the ball on the sweet spot. The word for “quiet” can mean “peace” or “rest,” often related to trusting the will of God. Such a posture allows your “to mind your own business,” or “do your own things” and “work with your hands.” In other words, the point here is contentment. Not many of us are wise or noble or powerful (1 Corinthians 1:26), and not many of us will “hit home runs for Jesus.”

If God has called you to hit singles, then hit ‘em and hit ‘em a lot. Aspire to simple, faithful living. And if you content yourself with being good at making contact, you might end up becoming one of God’s greatest players of all time. Or maybe not. Maybe that’s not God’s plan for you, or me. If so, that’s ok, too.