When Ministry Feels Like Baseball
In our AI-driven, quick-solution world, we often expect success at every turn. Every answer is only a tap away. As a devoted Tennessee Vols football fan, I can easily fall into the habit of expecting a win in every game. When a loss eventually comes, I’m often unprepared to handle it.
One of my persistent criticisms of the current American political system is the growing concentration of power in the presidency. The White House has become the center of lawmaking, where each presidential proposal is seen as the source of government action. A negative result of this reality is the diminishing, bridge-building work of Congress.
The founders designed the American system to require slow, collaborative work between rival parties to pass legislation. Congress was meant to be the primary arena for that work. Each new initiative was to climb several levels of approval before reaching the president’s desk. (The Schoolhouse Rock song should be ringing in your ears right now.) As a result of this long road to lawmaking, failure happens far more often than success.
Conservative columnist George Will once compared American democracy to the game of baseball. He noted that both are built around failure. Democracy depends on persuasion—it requires patience and compromise. It is slow and deliberate.
Baseball is the game of the long season, where small, incremental differences determine who wins games, series, and championships. When you go to the ballpark, you know you might win or you might lose. Nothing is certain. Baseball isn’t a game for those who demand victory every time. The best team will lose a third of its games, and the worst team will win a third. The difference lies in the middle third. The best hitters succeed only 25 to 30 percent of the time. Failure happens far more often than success.
In ministry, we often hear pastors speak of urgency—“Win souls today to keep them from hell tomorrow.” Every second matters. Growth must always be increasing. Always be closing. (As much as I enjoy Glengarry Glen Ross, the Saturday Night Live Christmas parody might be even better.)
But like baseball and the slow work of democracy, ministry life is mostly about failure. Sermons are preached and few respond. Evangelism conversations often end quietly. Events are organized with modest turnout and minimal response. Counseling sessions may bring help but little visible change.
If we treat ministry life like a football season—where every game is life or death—failure will crush us. But if we see our service to Christ like a baseball season, full of ground balls, strikeouts, and the occasional solid double, we begin to recognize that success is measured over the long haul. Ministry is a marathon, not a sprint, and its true victories often seem negligible in the moment. Faithful time in God’s Word, prayer with colleagues, a text of encouragement from a church member, or a quiet coffee conversation with a seeker—these may seem inconsequential. Yet in a calling where failure is common, these are the true victories.
God promises to save those He has called. He promises to sanctify those He has saved, conforming them to the image of Christ Jesus. God will win every battle; He remains undefeated. Our success or failure is not the lynchpin of His will. As Jesus told the seventy-two disciples after their successful mission in Luke 10:20: “Nevertheless, do not rejoice in this, that the spirits are subject to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.” Our greatest victory is not our wins in ministry but the triumph of Christ on the cross for our salvation. That championship moment is ours in Him. As a result, God uses all the circumstances of life—the good and the bad—to sanctify us by His Spirit through His Word.
The theologian Carl Henry once coined the phrase sober optimism to describe pastoral ministry. We are neither hopeless nor naïvely hopeful about this age. Paul expressed it beautifully in 2 Corinthians 6:10: “As sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, yet possessing everything.”
This captures the paradox of the Christian life. Christ has won, and united to Him we share in His victory. Yet God’s Kingdom is not yet complete. The war is over, but battles and sufferings continue.
Therefore, we live with sober optimism. We may fail more than we succeed, but we remember the truth: Christ has already won. We share in His victory as His saints, and our calling remains to endure faithfully with Him until the end.
