What Value on the Everyday?

Those who had the privilege of seeing Sandy Koufax pitch describe him as a Picasso on the mound, and in 1967 he was at his best. He won 25 games, hurled 13 shutouts, led the league in strikeouts, and then retired at the age of 31. When asked about the potential income he lost by retiring and avoiding further arm trouble, he said, "If there were a man who did not have use of one of his arms, and you told him it would cost a lot of money, and he could buy back that use, he'd give every dime he had."

Koufax's perspective may be even more rare than his curveball was. We ordinarily fail to see the immense value in what we already have and what we use every day. When we tell ourselves we really want just one thing, sings penetrating Christian lyricist Rich Mullins in "My One Thing," what we really mean is that we want just one thing more. We recognize this greed and ingratitude when a child asks for one piece of candy, and then another, and then another, but we don't automatically outgrow that tendency as adults or suddenly have to fight it if we happen to possess immense athletic gifts. In Screwtape Letters, C.S. Lewis says that even the proper lady who complained that the restaurant has served her TOO MUCH and who asks for just this or that and nothing more is simply giving in to another variety of gluttony.

Given the first pervasiveness of the discontent in our hearts and the rarity of Koufax-like discipline to say no to it, circumstances that suddenly separate us from our overly familiar comforts can be a gift. I went in this week for the simplest of surgeries, but even this was cause enough for pause. I had no control over what time I went in for surgery, so as I waited for several hours past the appointed time, I got to realize just how limited my control is in everyday life. Next week at work when I get to decide which relatively ordinary task I get to tackle first, perhaps I will be a little more grateful. Having gone under anesthesia which suspends all but the most basic of life functions, to emerge healthy and pain-free with the use of both arms, and as many of my bodily functions and that went into surgery with, as Koufax says, is a gift more expensive than I could ever buy. Should I, then, grouse at the hands at the end of my arms move more slowly as they go about performing the tasks associated with my current roles in life? Or can I, as G.K. Chesterton writes in Orthodoxy, be as grateful for feet as children are for the content of their Christmas stockings?

Koufax also challenges us with the relative brevity of the identities we take on for a season, just as he was closing out his chapter as an active, and outstanding, pitcher? If he can walk away from a particular role that brought him so much acclaim confident that he has an identity apart from it, perhaps we can develop a healthier, more long-term perspective on the job title we now hold and even the family responsibilities we are privileged to have. John Piper rightly reminds us in his Momentary Marriage that even these important priorities will change. Are we making the most of them, as even in early and voluntary retirement from baseball Koufax said that he did not regret one minute of his time in the game? Are we cultivating a sense of self that will last through the decades and find other ways to flower when we must walk away from what has been familiar to us?