The pastors at Plymouth Congregational United Church of Christ, the church the RicheBurgers attend in Des Moines, this summer are during a series of sermons they’ve named “Vibe Shifts” — about our changing society, including our changing religious life. Chuck Offenburger, a lifelong baseball fan, was particularly impressed by Pastor John Tyson’s July 6 sermon, “Good Vibes: Baseball.” It is scripturally-based on Philippians 4:4 – 9. He has allowed us to publish here.
By Rev. John Tyson
DES MOINES, Iowa, July 6, 2025 — As both a parent and a pastor, I’m called upon to wear many different hats – and I’m wearing a new one during these dog days of summer: little league baseball coach. To be clear, I’m just helping a friend coach our children’s tee-ball team, but nevertheless, for one night a week, I’m known as “Coach John” – and I kind of like it.
It is so fun to watch littles play tee-ball. The joy that lights up their faces when they realize it’s their turn to enter the batter’s box. They swing that bat with as much power as their little bodies can muster, and when they finally hit the ball into the field, they inevitably freeze up while watching the scrum of infielders race to the ball…before remembering that they need to run down the baseline, and then they’re off…it’s a mad dash to the base, turning as they run to see their parents and family members cheering for them in the bleachers. And when they finally arrive at first base, I greet them with a fist bump – and without hesitation they say, “Coach John…can I go over to the playground now?”
The funny thing is that when I run onto the field with our team of four- and five-yearolds, I don’t feel like a coach. I feel like a kid again. The same kid whose favorite thing ever was playing catch in the backyard with Dad; and the teenager who spent many summer nights standing on the pitcher’s mound, desperately praying that my next fast ball would grace the strike zone. I am not a nostalgic person by nature, but I become one when I’m on the baseball diamond these days.
“Coach John” showing 4-year-old Asher how tee-ball works. (Family photos)
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And so, it wasn’t surprising when a game of whiffle ball broke out in the backyard before the fireworks on Friday night, July 4. Baseball is considered this nation’s pastime for a reason. The sport emerged fully in the wake of the Civil War, evolving from the English game of cricket. The guiding thesis of Ken Burn’s magnificent PBS documentary Baseball is that the sport mirrors the development of American life and is fundamental to our history.
The earliest organized baseball leagues formed and expanded in New York City. Only a few miles from Ellis Island, the busiest immigration harbor in the United States at the time. Odds are good that the Brooklyn Dodgers were in the seventh inning stretch when the Statue of Liberty arrived on Ellis Island in 1886. And likewise, again, in 1903, when a plaque engraved with these poetic words was added to the statue: “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
Like American life itself, baseball has always been embraced and revitalized by players whose country of origin is not the United States. This remains true today. Currently, one-third of major league baseball players were not born here. In 2023, the MVP of the National League and the American league were from Venezuela and Japan, respectively; each requiring an interpreter to communicate with their teammates and coaches. Most recently, when ICE showed up to raid their stadium two weeks ago, the Los Angeles Dodgers organization refused to comply and kicked them out.
At its best, baseball has always tried to embody what Abraham Lincoln called the “better angels of our nature.” Its history is not perfect, but it is important. For example, I’m reminded that Martin Luther King Jr. attributed the rise of the Civil Rights Movement in part to Jackie Robinson, who courageously broke baseball’s color line when he started at first base for the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1947. It’s hard to overstate the size of the shockwave that this moment sent through the heart of American life.
Baseball is a game that strives to symbolize the best American virtues: democracy, pluralism, decency, and collective hope. And so, baseball has taken on an almost mystical presence within our national mythology. And like the divine, there is something about the game of baseball that lies beyond what can be captured by words alone: it is a feeling, an experience, an atmosphere…a vibe.
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The baseball field and the church were the two most formative places of my childhood.
They were deeply enmeshed. Many Sunday, I would wear parts of my uniform to church, so that I could go straight to my ballgame after the benediction. My Dad played for the church softball team, and I would tag along to all of his tournaments, watching our Sunday school teachers, deacons, and trustees swing for the fences and try very hard not to swear when they made an error in the field. The closest I’ve come to feeling “…the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding…” has taken place in close proximity to a baseball diamond. When I think of good vibes, I think of baseball.
It’s not a coincidence that I see baseball through the prism of faith and theology. So many of the qualities that draw us into a life of faith are part of the game: sacred places, seasons, and songs, faith and disbelief, blessings and sorrows, miracles and myths, failure and redemption, heartbreak and hope and coming home. These are the things that make a life of faith worth living.
The ballpark is a sanctuary. When entering the stadium, the vibe shifts, and one enters a sacred space. The sights and sounds of the ballpark – like those of a sanctuary – diverge from the ordinary world. Worship begins when the players process onto the field for the first pitch. An invitation is made to rejoice for the home team. Time is no longer calculated by minutes now, but by innings. Each inning unfolds as a series of rituals that follow a consistent structure but vary in content from game to game. It is a form of liturgy, enlisting players and spectators alike in ‘the work of the people’; conspiring to create a special kind of communal experience for all who inhabit this sacred space and time.
The liturgical structure of worship is designed to help us notice and appreciate the presence of God. The contemplatives say that appreciating God’s presence tends to require slowing down and altering our adherence to time, even if only temporary. It’s our rushed and hurried culture, the ever-increasing availability of entertaining distractions, and our addiction to scrolling screens, that makes it so hard for us to slow down enough to notice and appreciate anything, let alone God.
In his book “Baseball as a Road to God,” John Sexton, the former president of New York University, suggests that baseball may in fact be a road to God because it seemingly exists outside of time.
Baseball, Sexton writes, “…can demonstrate the benefits of living a little slower, of noticing a little more, and of embracing life’s ineffable beauties.” Like faith and worship, baseball cultivates these spiritual practices among the faithful. They are spiritual practices that allow us to notice and appreciate the divine, the sacred, the ineffable, that which we might call God.
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I associate a good vibe with an atmosphere of welcome, generosity, teamwork, and celebration. When I reflect on experiences that I’ve had where the vibe felt good, they have another thing in common, too: the tyranny of time is diminished; the moment matters more than what’s next; and a good vibe makes it easy and enjoyable to be present. In our passage from Philippians, Paul also envisions the vibe of the early church being one of low anxiety and a place where people are gentle and kind to each other. And then, in verse 8, he goes on to say, “…if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.” So, with Paul’s permission here, I’m going to spend more time thinking about baseball.
On Tuesday night, one of our tee-ball players hit a scorching drive up in the middle, and he proceeded to run as fast as he could toward…third base. So, there I am standing by first base, trying to call him to retrace his steps and run to first base. And, instead of doing that, he ran from third to second and then finally to first. He ran the bases backwards. It was hilarious, and something dawned on me at that moment for the first time: he didn’t run backwards – he ran clockwise.
He wasn’t the first kid to hit the ball and run to third, either. Perhaps, it’s a telling sign of how deeply immersed all of us are in the tyranny of time’s onward march, even as little ones.
The great spiritual gift of baseball is its sacred reversal of time itself. Nothing symbolizes this subversion, quite like the fact that we run the bases counterclockwise. It is a symbolic reminder that this game doesn’t operate according to the logic of ordinary time. By doing so, baseball carves out space for the faithful to notice and appreciate what’s good.
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Now, for the last decade or two, sports commentators have been heralding the declining popularity of baseball in America. They point out statistics that suggest that fewer people are attending games, and even fewer still are watching on television. They say the game is too long, too boring; there aren’t enough flashy stars to grab headlines. Baseball, they say, unlike football and basketball, just hasn’t adapted to the speed of our fast-paced digital world. The most dramatic doomsayers claim that, in a generation or two, the game will be obsolete and irrelevant to American culture. In time, they say, the game will be left behind.
And you know what, this sounds awfully familiar to me. These same dire predictions have also been made about the church. Ever since I became interested in church leadership two decades ago, I have heard nothing but anxiety and alarm about the future of the church. I have been told by countless pastors, professors, experts, consultants, and strategists of every stripe that everything about the church is trending in the wrong direction – and they always point to declining attendance among younger people. This narrative of decline, which mirrors baseball’s own narrative of decline, has been a defining feature of ministry for me. In time, they say, the church will be left behind.
But sometimes when you’re anticipating a fastball, you get a change-up. The reality is that these narratives of decline have never actually materialized within my lived experience. I simply do not see a church in decline. I have seen and led churches that evolved without compromising their essence – like baseball has – but the reports of the church’s death…have been greatly exaggerated. A few weeks ago, nearly 50 people from this congregation – most of them teenagers – boarded a bus for a week-long tour to sing, celebrate, and spread joy. Kids are signing up for Confirmation as we speak. Creative arts camp will be packed in a few weeks. I could go on. If you build it, and the vibes are good, they will come.
What I know is that whenever and wherever, the God of love, justice, and peace is proclaimed and embodied with action in the church, hope and new life will prevail.
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My hope for the church’s future is mirrored by my hope for baseball. Doomsayers maintain that baseball is on the decline, but that hasn’t been my experience either. It surely wasn’t a couple of Fridays ago, when my son and I went to the Iowa Cubs game. Traffic picked up as we neared downtown. The parking lots were full, and likewise, the stands. It was Pride night at the ballpark, underneath a perfectly clear summer sky. Nothing beats the sound of a bat colliding with the ball and the roar of the crowd as the runner circles the bases than when you’re watching in-person. I happily lost track of time.
Dad John with 9-year-old Levi at the Iowa Cubs game.
The good vibes grew as the Cubs took the lead and went on to a resounding 15 – 6 victory. The crowd – as diverse a crowd as you could possibly gather – cheered as one body when the post-game fireworks lit up the night after the ninth. The scene of fireworks soaring and crackling above downtown, with the capitol looming in the distance, felt poetic from my seat in the ballpark. It was like a shot of hope when I needed it most – that maybe the “better angels of our nature” will prevail in the end.
I felt the same vibe last summer, on the way to a weekend in the Driftless, Amy and I made a stop in Dyersville to step foot on the famous Field of Dreams. Like Wrigley, Fenway, and Yankee Stadium, the Field of Dreams is a baseball sanctuary. I never imagined being in Iowa and running those bases when I watched the movie as a kid. It was a kind of spiritual experience.
After soaking up the sun on the field, I walked into the gift shop to cool off and mill around for a few minutes before moving on for the day. Over on the wall hung a plaque with my favorite quote from the film. I walked closer to contemplate it for a moment. You might remember it…the words spoken on the field by James Earl Jones’ character, Terence Mann, as he inspires Ray, played by Kevin Costner, to pursue his dream: “The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It has been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game: it’s a part of our past, Ray. It reminds us of all that once was good and it could be again.”
May it be so. Amen.
You can write the author Pastor John Tyson at this email address: jtyson@plymouthchurch.com.
