“And you’re okay with that?”

As soon as I threw out the question, a smug grin spread across the man’s face as he nodded in agreement.

Being turned away didn’t sit well with me. I hate when someone is excluded for another person’s (or organization’s) gain—maybe because I saw so much of it in high school as classmates were not invited to sleepovers and other weekend activities because they posed a threat to another person's popularity. Watching people get ahead by holding others back gave me such a heart for the ostracized and marginalized that I resolved to counteract it. Instead of “no man left behind,” my motto became “no person left out” whenever I planned a group activity.

This approach caused me to call some pretty unconventional plays over the years—like tracking down classmates who moved away before our senior year to say that, although they graduated from a different high school, we would love to see them at our twenty-year reunion. And inviting, not just Hollie’s friends, but their entire families to attend her fourth birthday party because the movie theatre we rented was large enough for everyone to watch the show. With these successes, the last thing I wanted to hear was that tickets to America’s pastime came with a buyer beware clause.

Although nobody likes it when a technicality keeps someone from achieving a desirable outcome, it’s been happening since biblical times when the Pharisees ruled the New Testament school. Like the people in charge of ticket sales, the religious leaders profited from self-made decrees that made people feel unworthy of a seat in God’s kingdom.

Maybe that explains why I was so irritated at the game when I walked back to where my family was standing to deliver the bad news. I thought Bill would be as outraged as I was. Instead, he seemed to take what the man said in stride when he offered this suggestion: “Let’s walk around and see if we can find a place to stand.”

“Why would we stand when we paid $160 to sit?” I ranted.

“What else can we do?” He asked.

Had Dr. Laura Schlessinger been at the game—and crazy enough to watch it from the bleachers section—she would have supported Bill’s optimism with this quote from page 67 of her book Stop Whining, Start Living:

When people ask me “how to cope,” they generally mean, “How do I live with this when my feelings are so negative?” My answer is always the same: accept or stop fighting what is and wrap your emotional world around the aspects of the person or the situation about which you are pleased and/or grateful.

It was hard to “edit out the bad”[i] as we struggled to find a place to watch the game from the overcrowded walkway. In frustration, I turned my attention to the people standing on the rooftops across the street from the ballpark. They seemed to be having such a good time that, for a split-second, I wished I was with them. This thought led to another one as I wondered: Is this how people on the outskirts of Christianity feel when we make them so uncomfortable in our pious presence that they give up their ticket and go, instead, to hang out with less judgmental non-Christians?

Rules should never be used to separate us from the people God has called us to serve. Jesus made this clear in chapter two of the book of Mark when the Pharisees chastised him for allowing his disciples to pick some heads of grain while walking through a field.

“Look, why are they doing what is unlawful on the Sabbath?” the religious leaders complained in verse 24.

Jesus replied with a base hit for believers when he said: “The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath”,[ii]

I could have used a little of the rule-bending that Jesus was talking about when we stopped on several occasions to watch the game and were prompted to keep moving because loitering was not allowed.

“The girls are getting tired,” I said to Bill. “Do you think someone would mind if they sat on one of those folding chairs?”

They were propped against a wall in the section reserved for people with disabilities. I thought it would be ok since no one else was using them, but once again stadium rules prevailed when the person in charge of the section refused to allow us to use them. Although we finally found a spot near right field where we could stand and watch the game, the girls were anything but grateful as they fed off my negativity to add a few grievances of their own.

“I need to sit,” Katie complained.

 “I’m hot,” Hollie added.

“We can use these for shade,” I suggested as I unrolled the posters I received earlier and held them up to block the sun.

Despite my best efforts to keep the girls happy, Hollie made it clear that she was ready to go home when she began to sing:

Don’t take me out to the ball game.

Just take me back to the van.

Don’t buy me some peanuts or Cracker Jack.

I don’t care if I ever come back.

While Bill was sympathetic to my youngest’s assessment of the situation, he remained optimistic as he said: “Let’s stay for a few more innings.”

His positive outlook reminded me of a rhyme I created to teach my daughters about the futility of arguing over the inevitable: “If it is what it is, why complain. It makes you unhappy and your parents insane.”

As logical as my lecture sounded, the words rarely made a difference. Once, when Hollie was grumbling about having to go to church, I challenged her with this question: “Why do you waste your time complaining about commitments you know you can’t get out of?”

“Because I want you to be as miserable as I am,” Hollie confessed.

I’ve known for a long time that hurting people hurt people. What I didn’t realize was that sometimes they do it, not to improve their mood, but to ruin some else's. The saying is true: Misery loves company. I guess that’s why I complained that day at the ballpark … because I wanted Bill to be as upset as I was.

The problem with dragging people down into an emotional pit is that no one is left to lift you up when you’re ready to climb out of it. Laura Schlessinger agreed in Stop Whining, Start Living when on page two she said: “You cannot in the long run eat your cake and have it too. The longer … you behave in certain ways, the more it comes to define you, not only to others, but also to yourself.”

I don’t want to be thought of as a whiner or a complainer. What I want is to be known for seeing the best and forgiving the rest in every person and place I encounter. The problem with what we want is that it doesn't always show up in what we do; and two years after that sweltering day at the ballpark, I still had nothing good to say about the experience. I guess that explains why I was so reluctant when Bill e-mailed me to say that he was thinking about bidding on four Cubs tickets at an upcoming charity auction. The package was being advertised as a Dream Day at Wrigley Field, complete with seats behind home plate, our name on the stadium marquee, and access to the field before the game to have our picture taken near the Cubs on-deck circle.

“Is it okay if I bid on these?” Bill asked in his e-mail.

“Does this mean we can finally go to a game in style?” I typed back.

“And give up the bleachers?” He joked.

Bill knew that I was still a little miffed about our last Cubs experience. He also must have known that I would agree: It was time to give the organization another chance.

The sun was sweltering overhead as we entered the stadium. Unlike the last time, our seats were in the shade with a great view of the infield. The girls were so comfortable sitting in them that, not once did they ask to leave early. We did, however, move a few aisles over to sit near a family we knew, who also had tickets to the game. To my relief, no one seemed to care when we slid into the empty row in front of them.

I had such a good time at that the game that it was almost over before I noticed the people gathered on the rooftops across the street from right field. This time, their seats didn't seem as inviting. In fact, they were so far away that  it was hard to imagine why anyone would want them.

My change of heart confirms the importance of making outsiders feel welcome. People have to know that you care, before they will care about what you know so let's send a hands-on message that Christianity is not a clique; it's our commitment to showing the seatless and the churchless that God has enough room for all of us in His stadium.

A Verse to Heed:

“Be shepherds of God's flock that is under your care, serving as overseers—not because you must, but because you are willing, as God wants you to be; not greedy for money, but eager to serve;”
 

1 Peter 5:2

Quotes To Grow On:

“The people and circumstances around me do not make me what I am, they reveal who I am.”

Dr. Laura Schlessinger, Stop Whining, Start Living, p. 14

“Every person or situation generally has good and bad going for it. Unless the bad is dangerous or destructive, edit it out and embrace the good.”

Dr. Laura Schlessinger,Stop Whining, Start Living, p. 69

“Look at every human being as an opportunity to advance humanity and add something positive to the resume of your life.”

Dr. Laura Schlessinger,Stop Whining, Start Living, p. 4