the kingdom of God is like . . .

A reading from Revelation 23:

Then I saw a new game on a new day, for yesterday's game was over, relegated to the stat books forever.  And I heard a loud voice from the press box announcing, "See, the place of God is among the fans. God will wipe away the tears when the team loses, regrets and recrimination will be no more, all time has ceased in this place, for the past season has passed away. "

The one of the four umpires, who had the bags containing the game balls came and said to me, "Come, I will show you the line-up cards for this game." And he carried me to the dugouts, showing me the holy city the Ballpark, coming down out of heaven from God.

It has the glory of blue skies, with bright sun shining down upon the players and fans, with a radiance like a very rare jewel, an emerald clear as crystal. It has high walls around the outfield, with lower walls where the tribes of the teams sit to watch the game.  The walls are inscribed with the jerseys of former players who have gone through the great ordeal of playoffs, emerging with clean uniforms.

The angel who talked to me had a measuring rod of gold to measure the dimensions of the field: left field is 328', with the power alley stretching 379'; dead center is 404' from home plate, with the right field power alley is 370' and the right field wall is 325'. The ballpark has entrance gates which allow the fans to enter from all directions. Then the angel showed me the sweet nectar of heaven being dispensed from the taps at the concession stands, with manna from heaven (red hots with sauerkraut, pizza, popcorn and cracker jack) available to all the fans.

And the one who was seated behind home plate said, 'See, I am making all games new. Write this, for these words are trustworthy and true. When you strike out swinging, you get another chance in your next at bat; when you are charged with an error, you have an opportunity the next time the ball is hit to you; if you lose every game in every season, I will still be your God and you will be my team."

Then, with a bite of the bratwurst slathered with mustard and topped with kraut and a sip of his cold brew, God settled back in the seat, hollering at the ump, "you call that a strike!?  Are you serious, or just delirious?"

(c) 2010 Thom M. Shuman