Let the peoples praise you, God; let all the peoples praise you. ~Psalm 67:3
During the summer of 1989, I had the responsibility of attending a number of Major League Baseball games, probably a dozen of them.
That spring my company had published Out of the Blue, the story of Orel Hershiser, the Los Angeles pitching phenomenon. The previous fall he had almost single-handedly guided the Dodgers through the National League Championship against the Mets and the World Series, facing the mighty Oakland Athletics. With the newly released book just hitting the marketplace, I had the chore—a dirty job, but someone had to do it—of escorting Orel to television interviews and book signings around the country. Going to games before or after the interviews was all part of the duty.
One perfect June afternoon, I was sitting in a box seat at Dodger Stadium. Just before the Dodgers took the field against the Houston Astros, a man and his wife took the seats right next to me. They introduced themselves as Dave and Jan Hotchkin, good friends of the Hershisers. Dave sat next to me; Jan sat on his other side. By the time the first pitch was thrown, we knew the lineup of each other’s children, hometowns, and occupations. Dave was a likable guy, the traditional family introduction bases had been covered, and we were both ready for baseball.
Orel’s first pitch was a slider that nipped the outside corner. Strike one.
By the time we got to the bottom of the sixth inning, there was no score. The game was turning out to be a classic pitcher’s battle: a boring kind of baseball game to some but not if the guy on the mound is your friend. A remarkably successful batter—for a pitcher—Orel stepped to the plate. The first pitch was high and tight, a little telegram from the opposing hurler. Orel leaned back ever so slightly to avoid being grazed. Ball one.
The next pitch was the one he was looking for, a belt-high fastball. Wasting no time, Orel turned on the pitch, sending a screaming line-drive to dead center field. The loyal Dodgers fans erupted as the ball rocketed over the center fielder’s head. Moments later Orel slid into third base. Safe!
In that moment something strange happened. Dave Hotchkin, whom I had known for approximately ninety minutes, became my closest friend. We embraced, stepped back to high-five a couple of times, and then embraced again. All of this was followed by a solid thirty seconds of dancing, screaming, hooting, and obnoxious racket. Our friend had tripled into center field, and we were instant comrades. Jan shrugged, rolled her eyes, and excused herself to get some nachos.
Today’s psalm challenges “all the peoples” to praise God, recognizing His work in the world: “The earth has produced its harvest; God, our God, blesses us” (vv. 5–6).
That afternoon at Dodger Stadium if, after the sixth inning, someone had given Dave and me a task to do together, our level of cooperation would have been flawless. The “harvest” would have been plentiful because we had joined each other in mutual celebration.
This is a snapshot of God’s people. And when you and I realize how worthy He is of our adoration, our relationships with each other will be sealed, and the work He asks us to do on His behalf will be accomplished.
Worship Him enthusiastically, and you’ll find someone to high-five in the process. Don’t you just love baseball?