Second Base
Last week, after finishing a conference with some colleagues, a friend of mine and I went to see a baseball game in Detroit, Michigan. I am a huge fan of baseball, and any chance I get to see a game is a treat. My friend is not as committed to the sport as I am, but he also enjoys a Major League game and was willing to accompany me to see the Tigers host the Mariners.
The game moved pretty quickly, and we enjoyed a nice night at Tiger Stadium. The home team trailed for most of the game, but they managed to score two runs in the bottom of the eighth inning to tie the game and make things interesting. Since neither of us was a fan of either team, however, we groaned a little bit when the game went into extra innings, not sure how long it would take for the game to end.
The top of the tenth came and went with no score, and the Tigers came up to bat with the opportunity to win in walk-off fashion. As the first batter approached the plate, my friend asked, “How did that runner get to second base? Did I miss something?” He had not missed anything in that night’s game, but apparently he had missed the rule changes that MLB instituted during the pandemic.
If you have not watched much baseball in the last few seasons, you may not know that, when a game goes into extra innings, both teams now begin their at-bat with a runner already on second base. In baseball, it is much easier to score a run and win the game with a runner on second than it is starting from scratch.
Old-timers and traditionalists like me decry the change as having robbed the sport of the subtle and strange complexities of a game that lasts into the sixteenth, seventeenth, or even eighteenth inning, but the effect has been to shorten extra-inning games considerably. Sure enough, with one out, a pinch hitter drove the ball over the center fielder’s head, and the runner on second made it home to win the game for the Tigers. My friend and I were able to celebrate the win and make it back to the hotel in a timely fashion.
Imagine being on a team that starts an inning with a runner already on second base but that refuses to acknowledge the opportunity that extra runner provides. Imagine being that player, who crossed the plate to win the game, and then going to the press conference and taking credit for the victory as if you had gotten yourself in scoring position.
Last Sunday in worship, we heard the story of Solomon ascending to the throne of his father David and praying that God would give him wisdom (1 Kings 2:10-12; 3:3-14). After offering sacrifices, the new king had a vision of the Lord, who said to him, “Ask what I should give you.” But, instead of asking God for wealth or power or a long life, Solomon prayed, “I am only a little child; I do not know how to go out or come in…Give your servant therefore an understanding mind to govern your people, able to discern between good and evil; for who can govern this your great people?” As a result, because this pleased God, God not only gave Solomon wisdom but also the things for which he did not ask, including riches and honor.
This is the only story about King Solomon that I remember from my childhood. I suspect that my Sunday school teachers hammered it home because they wanted me to learn that it is better to ask God for wisdom than for money, but the only thing it taught me was that, if I wanted to be rich, I needed to ask God for wisdom instead. Of course, God does not work like that. God is no more likely to give wealth to someone who prays for wisdom than someone who prays to win the lottery. But I do believe that asking for wisdom changes the way we understand God’s riches.
Solomon inherited a kingship that was not supposed to be his. He had several older brothers, including Amnon, Kileab, Absalom, and Adonijah, but a series of plot twists, which involved rape, vengeance, rebellion, mystery, and considerable political wrangling, led to Solomon’s ascendency. In his prayer before God, the new king acknowledged that God had blessed his father richly and that part of that blessing included his own kingship. Now, faced with leading the nation on his own, Solomon acknowledged that he did not know what to do. He admitted his weakness, and asked God for help.
What remarkable humility and faithfulness from someone who had been handed a great fortune and, with it, a great responsibility! Faced with that kind of pressure, many would fake it until they figured it out, pretending to be wise and strong and up for the task, but Solomon did not act as if he had become king because of his own accomplishments. He had been born on second base, and he was willing to admit it.
As the psalmist declares, “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom,” by which I understand the psalmist to mean, “Respect for God is the first step toward enlightenment.” Remembering that God is the giver of all good gifts—that we are not responsible for all we have attained or achieved—is how we recognize that God has placed us upon life’s path and that God will be with us every step of the way.
That sort of faithfulness is not the same thing as fatalism. Solomon must still offer his best to God and seek to be faithful to the gifts God has given him. As God explained, “If you will walk in my ways, keeping my statutes and my commandments, as your father David walked, then I will lengthen your life,” but, as the Bible recalls, things did not always go well for the king. In his old age, his faithfulness became neglect, and, through some unholy marriages and the unstable alliances that resulted from them, he set the nation up for civil war and foreign conquest, yet Solomon’s legacy remains one of wisdom born of humility.
God invites us to pursue a life of faithfulness, and our humility is how we accept that invitation anew every day. When we pretend that we are in charge of our lives, we not only forget what God has done for us, but we also set ourselves up for despair when the wind begins to blow in another direction. Sometimes bad things happen to good people for no reason at all, and the mistaken impression that we are solely responsible for life’s ups and downs makes it hard to remember that God is as close to us when things are difficult as when things are easy. In fact, if the cross tells us anything about God’s abiding love, it teaches us that God is even closer in the hardest moments of our lives.
When you pray, ask God for the wisdom of Solomon. Ask God to remind you every day that your life is a wonderful gift—that, in many ways, you, too, have been born on second base. Like Solomon, ask God to help you know how to go out and to come in and to always know that God is with you wherever you go. Pray that God will give you the wisdom to be grateful for your accomplishments, the strength to give God your very best, and the insight to recognize that both your successes and failures belong to God.
To ask God for wisdom is to ask God to ground you in a life of humility and faithfulness. To seek God’s wisdom is to offer yourself more fully into the service of God. To name wisdom as God’s most precious gift is to follow a path that leads to riches and honor regardless of what you have.
Yours faithfully,
Evan D. Garner
