I love baseball. I love the crack of the bat, the crunching of statistics, and the occasional day when the Kansas City Royals beat the New York Yankees as they did this week. And, despite my loyalties, I love watching Alex Rodriguez hit three home runs on three pitches as my son and I watched at the stadium last year, and Derek Jeter collecting four hits in this most recent game. To see the leading active home run hitter and the premier active hitter on their best days is memorable! I want my son, Ryan, to savor the moments.

Much of the time, I’m out of the country. Daily, I check my laptop during baseball to update what’s going on with my local team. I type in www.cbssports.com, choose my sport, select my drop-down panel on scores, study the statistics, and then opt for the “gametracker” service, which gives me a virtual picture every 30 seconds of what is happening. I see an artificial batter’s box that shows where every pitch passes the plate---strikes, balls, fouls, and hits.

I’m not really watching the game; I’m watching a simulated representation of the game. Sometimes, the data gets all fouled up. Sometimes, it comes piecemeal, with a bunch of delayed actions piled on to each other. Sometimes, the connection breaks down altogether, and I disengage frustrated, in suspended anxiety.

When I’m in the car, I listen to the local transmission of the game. It is contemporary; it is exciting. But much is left to my limited imagination. Should that have been an error or a hit? Did the pitch really cross the plate or did the umpire “blow” the call?

When I get home, I turn on the television. Now that is more satisfying! I get commentary and see the action. Simultaneously, I can check emails, grab something from the fridge, answer a phone call or two. But generally, it is a comfortable way of enjoying or bemoaning the game.

Ah, but there is nothing like being in the stadium, feeling the rush of the crowd, batting the balloons that bounce overhead, following the entertainment between innings, and participating in the “Wave.” The pungent smell of the hot dogs and the barbeque and the yells of the hawkers only adds sensory luster to the whole experience. And then that moment, when the Yankees are one run down and have the bases loaded in the 9th inning, two out, and dominant relief pitcher Joachim Soria strikes out Posada on three successive pitches., the crowd hoots and hollers in a frenzy of ecstasy, and then en masse, heads to the exits, relieved that, for once, Goliath has been slain.

There’s another way of seeing the game, that is, actually playing it: dressing up in uniform, walking over to the batter’s circle, swinging the bat through the air, and imagining the hit that you are tantalized to make. Of course, if you are a decent batter, you’ll fail 75% of the time, but the 25% justifies your name on the roster.

So what does this have to do with urban ministry?

Perhaps, you are a “gametracker” fan, experiencing the occasional “virtual” experience of urban ministry---an update report here, a statistic there. You follow it imprecisely. Sometimes, the information is wrong, delayed, or non-existent. It is far removed from the actual game itself, only a parody of what urban ministry really is.

Or you can listen to it and vicariously experience it. Or even see the picture, the visual images, the reruns that keep you fascinated.

Or you might even go to the game, and watch others play, with their fumbles, their errors, their grand slams, their exquisite moments of heroism. And that’s very exciting! But it doesn’t tell you what goes on in the practice field, in the lockers, in the tedious years of minor league play, or in the pained muscles and wearied reflexes.

Or, you can actually play the game, engage urban ministry at some meaningful level. In baseball there are many roles, some in the field, some in the dressing room, some at the coaches’ strategic meetings. But don’t ever think that you fully understand baseball, until you join the team! Yes, their rooting and their prayers are worth much. Just stay away! But unlike the Royals, our eternal mission is headed for ultimate victory whether you are part of the team or not.

Of course, there are many people I don’t want on the team. Nehemiah (Neh. 11:1) in his wisdom called out only 10% of all of the Israelites to return to build the wall of Jerusalem. He was wise, perhaps recognizing that many are sufficiently paralyzed in their parochial worlds, that they are like bulls in a crystal palace, where every twitch and move shatters glass. They are well-meaning but incompetent to deal with the complexities of strange urban cultures.

But my greater worry is that we live simulated ministries, often diagnosing from detached positions, and believing that we have the answers when we’ve really never walked in a player’s shoes. Though it is risky to move from “Gametracker” to “Game player,” the rewards of participation are many!

We may not be the Royals, but we are part of a “royal priesthood,” chosen by God to get in the game wherever He has called us!