I wish I'd missed a recent phone call.

"You've got to listen to this radio broadcast tonight," the church member urged. "It's the story of a 'miracle man.' It's fantastic! He died, saw a glimpse of heaven, and then came back to life-all because faithful friends were praying. Isn't that tremendous!"

"Yes," I acknowledged, with less enthusiasm than he. "Tremendous." What was I to make of such a call? Was this to help me believe for more of the miraculous? Why did I feel subtly accused, painfully reminded of the shortage of spectacular answers to prayer in my ministry? I wondered if my caller wished I would join the spiritual elite and begin raising the dead.

Time has not erased my disappointment from a spring day more than twenty years ago. Our high school baseball team trailed by a run with two out in the bottom of the ninth, and my coach sent me to the plate to pinch hit. With the pressure on, I swung at a curve ball and ...