Coaching the Little League Church

Last summer, I stopped by a baseball field to visit a friend who coaches a Little League team. What I saw that afternoon was a living parable about the pastoral role.

One coach was humiliating his 8-year-olds. “Hey, what are you,” he groused, “a bunch of pansies? Get off your lazy butts, and let’s see some hustle out there.” When he kicked dirt at an umpire following a call he didn’t like, I recognized which major league coach he was trying to imitate.

My friend, in contrast, cheered his kids at every opportunity. “Good job, Kevin,” he said. “Way to keep your eyes on the ball. You almost clobbered it.” When talking to his players, he would get on his knees: “Missie, there’s no reason to cry. He tagged you out, but you ran as hard as you could. I’m proud of you.”

The scoreboard said his team had lost, but the celebration my friend put on after the game proved otherwise. While the kids drank sodas and relived their highlights, I walked away with a lot of questions about my own “coaching” style.

EXPANSION TEAM

It’s always been hard for me to relate to the biblical metaphor of the pastor as a shepherd. I’d like to think that if Jesus had begun his public ministry in our time, he might have said, “I am the good coach. The good coach lays down his life for his kids. … My players listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me.”

With that image in mind, I’ve been rethinking small-church ministry.

In seminary, I was asked to help plant a church in an affluent bedroom community. Unlike many church starts, we began with a sizable budget and almost fifty mature, capable leaders from the sponsoring church. Naturally, we grew like crazy, and many of those who joined our fellowship were already committed believers with impressive stats.

The majority of our members had years of ministry under their belts. In many cases they knew their jobs better than I did. Unfortunately, I didn’t recognize it at the time. I wish I had better understood the pastoral imperative of vision casting. What that church needed was a strong, visionary coach who could focus the energies of many gifted individuals in a specific direction.

For example, one grind of new church work is setting up chairs in a rented facility, only to put them away a few hours later. I spent a lot of time cheerleading the setup crew to keep them from resigning en masse. I wish I had spent more of that time leading people to dream of a facility of our own and laying out plans. Ultimately, the people needed a strategizer, not a legitimizer.

My internship ended about the time the church became autonomous. One of their steps toward independence involved selecting their own pastor. Though I desperately wanted to stay, the search committee wisely saw the need for stronger leadership, so we left quietly. I just wasn’t ready to coach in the big leagues.

IN THE LITTLE LEAGUE

My next ministry opportunity took us across the country to another church plant, but this time our core group was the remnant of a brutal church split. The people were badly shaken, lacking confidence and in many cases, basic fundamentals. Most of the people we reached had no church background, so we constantly lacked leadership. We were coaching a Little League church.

You can’t identify a Little League church by appearance; they come in all sizes, ages, and denominations. Primarily, they are characterized by the depth and maturity of the starting players (leaders).

Major league churches are often full of new believers, too, but those churches are not forced to put them in the starting rotation. The Little League church, on the other hand, must put rookies in the lineup just to field a team.

Other characteristics of the Little League church:

* Focuses on the fundamentals of the game.

* Has difficulty recruiting talented, mature players.

* Struggles with low self-esteem.

* Allows for mistakes stemming from immaturity.

* Bases success on effort, not results.

* Isn’t interested in statistics; players play for the joy of the game.

* Encourages equal playing time for all team members.

* Celebrates even following apparent losses or setbacks.

No Little League coach would expect 8-year-olds to play like the All-Star team. But I was constantly comparing my inexperienced, ragtag group to my previous church, and every time they came up short. It was like comparing the Bad News Bears to members of the Hall of Fame.

I remember correcting a preschool Sunday school teacher for taking her class to the playground every Sunday instead of teaching a lesson. “We’re here to teach these little children about Jesus,” I lectured.

“That may be so,” she countered, “but no one has ever showed me how to teach little kids. I just know how to watch them play.”

My unrealistic expectations had caused a lot of hurt for people–and a great deal of disappointment for me. We went back to the basics, assumed nothing, and things began to improve.

Not long after, a children’s musical turned to utter chaos when the director lost control. Kids ran off the stage, screaming and laughing, until we finally pulled the plug on the whole thing. I felt embarrassed and angry, and I worried that this would reflect negatively on me as the coach.

Fortunately, before I vocalized my feelings, it dawned on me that the people in charge of the musical had no frame of reference for dealing with rowdy kids, most of whom had no church background and painful home situations.

A good Little League coach rewards anything that comes close to the intended result. Kids get praised for simply paying attention to the batter instead of picking dandelions in the outfield. Instead of focusing on losses and failures, I began finding any reason to celebrate and praise my team.

I thanked the children’s choir workers for all their time and effort, and got on the phone the next day to find someone who could train us in this challenging area.

Another Little League pastor passed on the cliche, “They don’t care what you know till they know you care.” It proved true. Once I started putting relationships ahead of performance, it was amazing to watch the attitude of my team members soar. I began to cheer on our little choir, thanking them for their smiles when I couldn’t honestly thank them for their music.

HURTING PLAYERS

Little League coaches often become trusted confidants for their ballplayers, especially with today’s high percentage of single parents. Sometimes a kid will tell his or her coach things that will never be told to Mom or Dad.

Similarly, Little League churches seem to attract people with lots of problems. These hurting folks instinctively know they don’t belong in the big leagues. I’ll admit to days when I’ve wondered, Are there any healthy families left out there? One adult after another pours out stories of hurtful, abusive childhoods or struggles with pornography and other addictions. In many cases, though, the people have never felt safe telling anyone. It’s a great affirmation when that happens. They are simply responding to your demonstrations of love and concern, knowing that you care for them.

The flip side is much harder. It’s not uncommon for mature, growing players to want to move into a more challenging league. We ache when we see those we have groomed for leadership take their gifts elsewhere. Sometimes they leave because the coach knows too much about who they used to be. Other times they recognize needs in their life that the Little League church simply can’t meet. Little League pastors have to focus on building the entire league, though our individual teams may never show significant numerical growth.

Little League coaches are never fired for having a losing record. They focus on building confidence and skills, getting everybody plenty of playing time and having fun. But if they ever stop treating kids with respect and patience, parents will find a way to get rid of them.

Conversely, major league coaches are expected to be successful–or else. If a coach is winning ball games, he will be respected, even if he is not well-liked. He’s expected to make tough decisions for the good of the team.

I still enjoy going to clinics led by the major league pastors. I always learn something, but it’s rarely possible for me to transfer major league strategies into a Little League setting without major adaptation.

The depth and talent in the major league churches is nowhere to be found on my team. I no longer believe that if I follow their advice to the letter, my team will automatically advance to the playoffs.

Today, I’m in a Little League church. God hasn’t called me up to the majors. And if I stay in Little League for the rest of my coaching career, I know that satisfaction can be found–as long as I recognize where I am and whom I am coaching. The rewards are different but just as significant.

A Little League coach won’t ever know the thrill of being in the World Series. But a major league coach will never receive a dandelion bouquet hand-picked from center field.

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Ed Rowell is pastor of First Baptist Church in Snowflake, Arizona.WHAT matters in ministry

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