HERO BROTHERS

At breakfast this morning I began to ponder two hero brothers of mine.  They just occurred to me and I wasn't trying to match them or compare them against one another.  I was simply reminiscing how I so love both of them....still.

The first was Curt Flood.  Curt, an African-American, was a sensational center fielder of my beloved St. Louis Cardinals.  At age 11 I began imitating him...to the best of my ability (which was always lacking).  Through my baseball ministry, Curt and I became exceptionally close friends. 

His mother already had six children and she "honorarily" adopted me.  Our phone conversations always began by her saying in that smoky voice, Oh....my baby boy; for I was now the youngest of her seven children!

I flew to Oakland to meet her.  I rang the bell and the door opened.  There she stood.  She looked me over from head to toe and studied me a bit before she spoke.  Suddenly she threw her arms opened and declared for neighbors to hear, Oh....my baby boy!  I always WANTED a little white boy!

When Laura Flood died, one of my new sisters called from Oakland and said, Terry, momma passed.  Can you come?  I did.....spoke at her funeral and rode in the funeral home's family car with my six African-American brothers and sisters.  I had been adopted.

Last year I learned the whereabouts of one of Curt's daughters.  I called her home in LA.  When she answered, I told her my name.  There was a very long pause then with great excitement Shelley blurted, Uncle Terry? 

I will never reach the skill level of Curt; but it means so much to me that he claimed me as his little brother. 

The second of my hero brothers is Jesus.  I find myself thinking about him as I do Curt; often in the same thought framework.  I dream of interacting with society after his pattern.  Jesus was sensational on the streets where people hurt and in the quiet of gardens where he dealt with his own agony.  I mostly love trying to imitate how it was he would notice the slightest drop of hope within every down-and-out person.  No one could move in on the heart of the unsuspecting like Jesus.

While his family was already pretty good sized, his father adopted me.  In this case, it wasn't honorary but truly authentic.  As hard as I try to emulate this hero-brother I never get close to being of the same talent.  He remains to me the epitome of wonder and grace.  Oh, if I could become half as non-judgmental and non-condemning to the sinners as he.  I will forever strive from my child-heart to reach to the level of his relationship artistry.  I'll never get there; yet he will openly claim me as little brother.

As I was contemplating these two special hero-brothers, it dawned on me that one of the things lacking in the church may be that Jesus simply isn't regarded as heroic.  Is he more legal or official or expected to be named?  We love heroes.  We don't necessarily love names associated with rules and regulations....but we adoringly love heroes.

Elvis?  John F?  Oprah?  Madonna?  Michael J?  Oh, how these and others are worshipped along the way...for they remain heroes to some.  But Jesus?  I think it time we evaluate whether he is a hero to our hearts or merely legal representation to escape punishment after death.

Curt Flood and Jesus---Curt would never have guessed one was so like the other---both have so much in common.  They will always be my brother heroes.