The Call That Joe Made

Say what you want to about the Yankees, but you can’t deny it…last night’s come-from-behind, bottom-of-the-twelfth-inning win is the stuff dreams are made of.

 

The Yankees were down 2-1 entering the bottom of the ninth in a pivotal ALDS Game 3. Win and they go up 2-1 in the series, on the verge of moving on. Lose and they’re on the brink of post-season disaster.

 

In that moment, Joe Girardi made what history books will call one of the greatest, certainly one of the gustiest, calls any manager has made. He benched his DH (a perennial all-star, a gold glove winner, a man who’s hit 647 career homers and 1,950 career RBIs) and went with a 40-year-old useable player who “they” said should never have been on the roster in the first place.

 

But today, Girardi’s call is being praised. Now, “they” say it was genius. It was baseball wizardry. But I think it was something much deeper…and it reaffirmed some realities that apply to so much more than the baseball diamond.

It doesn’t matter what “they” think or say. 
Joe Girardi made a call based on leadership. Flat out. If that call hadn’t worked, he would have been blasted by the media, fans, everyone. But he didn’t care about what might happen. He only focused on what he knew COULD happen. There’s a massive difference. As he said in his post-game press conference, "You have to make some decisions sometimes that are tough decisions." And leaders make them, despite what the crowd thinks or says.

In the heat of battle, the most important thing is focus.
The Yankees won last night (and will hopefully go on to win it all) because their leader kept the focus and did what needed to be done to move forward. It’s something I have an opportunity to witness every day with my Pastor. And last night, it was played out on the baseball diamond in front of millions. Focus on the greater goal is more crucial than pandering to someone’s (or millions of someone's) feelings.

When you lead the right way, even the greats will follow.
When Girardi made the call to bench A-Rod, he didn’t give a dissertation. He simply said, “This is what we’re doing.” Most athletes of A-Rod’s stature would have responded differently than #13 did. But when Joe made the call, there wasn’t any pouting or yelling or temper tantrums. It was, quite literally, “You've got to do exactly what you've got to do.” And when that ball sailed over the wall to win the game, no one cheered louder than the man who had to take a back seat. Why? Because he trusts the leadership of his manager. And because Joe Girardi has crystal clear focus for where the organization needs to go.

Let me say this: I don’t know Joe Girardi. As a lifelong Yankees fan, I watched him play ball when I was a kid (I remember the perfect game he caught for Doc Gooden.) I’ve cheered through every World Series he’s won (both as a player and a manager). And I would love the chance to meet him. But I don’t know him. I don’t know what was really going on in his head. But what I do know is that we can all learn from that call and from that man…Joe.

 

Beyond the battlefield...

Over the past week, I had the honor of helping to host several families of fallen Marines, soldiers, sailors and airmen. And as cliché as it sounds, it is a week I will never forget as long as I live—I know the same is true for those who helped this week as well.

My church, Fellowship Church, and America’s Mighty Warriors teamed up to give these men, women and children a week of rest and comfort at Allaso Ranch.

“Gold Star families” is what we categorize them as. But the reality is that “Gold Star” sounds like some kind of prize. Teachers give gold stars to little children when they color inside the lines or do all their math problems without mistakes. These families didn’t win a prize. And what they have done deserves so much more than a gold star. They made a great—scratch that—THE greatest sacrifice anyone can make.

In John 15:13 Jesus says, “Greater love has no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.”

I think when we read that, we immediately picture the young man running boldly into the line of fire in order to save those he knows and loves. And that’s true. If you know me, you know my heart for those who serve in our military. There are no words to explain my love, honor, and respect for them. But the reality is that the sacrifice made on the battlefield extends far beyond the battlefield.

When that military man or woman is sacrificed in the name of something greater than themselves, when they breathe their last in defense of the freedom you and I enjoy every day, their loved ones left behind are only beginning to make their sacrifices.

They have to wake up each day missing someone they loved dearly. Sons and daughters—some so young they can’t remember mom or dad—have to go through life without those shoulders to lean or arms to hide in.  Wives go to bed and wake up, longing to hold the one man they had in their lives who gave them security and a sense of belonging. Husbands have to wonder what might have been 10, 20 years from now if she just would have made it home. So sacrifice? Yes, the families know all too well what that is like.

Cliché or not—that’s something that should never be forgotten. Wipe politics aside. Put your stance on war on the backburner. Because in the face of such a sacrifice, nothing matters but supporting these families, letting them know we appreciate what they have done (in tangible ways), and assuring them that they will never, ever be forgotten. I saw that happen this week.

One of the highlights was when Texas Governor Rick Perry made a visit to these families. It wasn’t a political move. I know that because his team didn’t actively pursue press to cover the event (they didn’t even care if there was any press). I know that because I watched him interact with them. I know that because I saw the tears in his eyes as he spoke with these families and spent time with these kids. Governor Rick Perry simply wanted to personally thank these people. And it wasn’t a quick stop either. As he sat down to breakfast, he called his aide over and said, “Clear my morning. I’m staying here.”

It’s hard to put into words what this past week meant. The people I met, the conversations I had, the hands I grasped, the smiles I saw, the stories and laughs I heard, and the hugs I had on the last day—everything pointed to the reality that God has these people firmly in His arms.

My pastors and my church have a heart not only to say we follow Jesus, but also to put that into action. This week was no different in that respect than any other day at Fellowship. We are constantly reaching, moving, doing things to show the love of Christ. This week simply provided another opportunity to shine the light and love of Christ on people who desperately need to know it is there.

So I want to say thank you. Not just to the families who allowed us to serve them, but to the people who made it all happen. Thank you, Ed and Lisa. Thank you, Fellowship Church and Allaso Ranch. Thank you Debbie Lee and America’s Mighty Warriors. Thank you Governor Perry for showing us what a true patriot is. And thank you to each volunteer who took time out of their week to serve these families.

To each of you…your heart, your passion, your drive and your love go beyond anything I could ever fathom. I am honored to know you. I’m blessed to serve with you. And I cannot wait to see what is next in the journey!

Thank You Doesn't Seem Like Enough

The Silence of the Empty Tomb

In the silence of the empty tomb the wind rushes past an opening that leads to a place where where my Savior once lay, torn and tattered, bruised and beaten—dead.

His blood clotted and pooled on the ground that He once strode boldly over, carrying a message that was born in a lowly shepherd’s village and established in a humble barnyard manger.

But that message eventually erupted in shouts of joy and praise before the crowds of Jerusalem and ultimately threatened an entire religious system by bringing a new hope, not only for the righteous but for all mankind.

He claimed they could be saved from death, healed from brokenness, freed from the pit and forgiven of the sins, the very sins that forced Him to the cross to be nailed to the beam.

The soldiers knew no better, for they were simply doing the job they were called to do. And while He called out to God, some stood by and laughed and mocked. But others of them knew...

Though this man was suspended in the air and cried out in terror and pain and would soon be dead, the story wasn't over. They knew...they believed...He would soon burst forth from the grave and then all that would be left behind would be the silence of the empty tomb...