Being Unthankful on Thanksgiving

God tells us in His word to be thankful always. But, honestly, it’s too tough. So, I’m going to be unthankful this Thanksgiving. Here’s all the stuff for which I’m not thankful:

1.     Wars – Movies about wars are cool. So is reading about wars. I even enjoy visiting a battlefield. Give me a little Saving Private Ryan or Band of Brothers and some popcorn and I’m good to go. Throw in some Louis Zamperini too. I’d rather go to Gettysburg than to Disneyland. But going to war, not so much. Living through three wars, fearing the constant threat of war, seeing the death and destruction caused by war are things for which I am not thankful. However, I am incredibly thankful that I grew up and turned 18 in a time of peace. I’m also extremely thankful for the men and women who have served our country, liberated oppressed peoples, and sacrificed their lives for our freedoms.

2.     Natural Disasters – Katrina, Sandy, and Haiyan could be names from the next Miss Universe pageant. But instead we know them as a trio of devastation. Superstorms, typhoons, hurricanes, earthquakes, tsunamis, fires, floods, and tornados all stink and I’m not thankful for them. They kill thousands, uproot even more, wreck families, and destroy millions in property. Despite the fault lines running beneath Los Angeles like arteries under my skin, I’ve managed to survive unscathed. For that I am thankful. I’m thankful for the big bucks that people donate toward disaster relief, the folks who rescue the stranded, the organizations that clean up and rebuild, and the high-schoolers that go on mission trips to hug orphans in Haiti. Firefighters and all first-responders are my heroes. So I’m thankful for them too.

3.     Cancer. Hate it more than anything. So not thankful for it. And I might as well lump in all other random, debilitating, terminal, and ugly diseases. But, there are lots of people who have survived these diseases. And lots of others who devote days of their lives to raise money and awareness for good medical causes. And don’t forget the doctors and nurses who are knee-deep in disease everyday. Thankful, thankful, thankful. And yes, at 45, my number hasn’t come up on the cancer roulette wheel. Thankful.

4.     Mass shootings/bombings. It’s a crazy, scary world out there and these things are horrible. They’re unexplainable and really, really sad. I feel like I live on a roller coaster of amnesia. Something happens in Newtown or Boston and I’m shocked. My awareness is heightened. But then I forget until I go to a ballpark, a theater, or a fund-raising walk in downtown Los Angeles and see the security or the police force and the memories are brought back. Fear sets in. Questions arise. Could it happen here? I go to school and each day I’m reminded that my campus is now closed to parents and visitors. The gates are open just long enough to let the students in and out. But I don’t dwell on Sandy Hook every day. I’m thankful that I don’t live in daily fear that my school could be next.

I’m sure this list could easily be doubled: crime, poverty, homelessness, slavery, trafficking, etc. Perhaps, this amnesia is the biggest reason to be thankful in light of the evil around us. I think the absence of fear is what we need to cherish. The fear of being “next” would be paralyzing. We’d be unable to love, support, and help those in need. The amnesia takes the focus off of ourselves and allows us to care for the sick, to be a courageous first-responder, to send aid or serve in a war-torn or a typhoon-ravaged country.

It truly is a scary, evil world out there. But Christians believe that God is in control. The amnesia is a gift of his grace. Living without fear of evil requires a gripping trust in God’s plan for this planet. Many people find the problem of evil a hindrance to believing in God or trusting Him with their lives. I understand that. They ask, how could a good God allow all the pain and suffering in our world? It’s a legitimate question that takes pages and pages to answer.

But in a nutshell, He created a world with free will and with it the possibility of evil. “God created the fact of freedom and humans perform the acts of freedom.” He didn’t make robots. “Evil is inherent in the risky gift of free will.” We are living in a fallen and broken world that “is subject to disasters in the natural world that would not have happened had man not rebelled against God.” He sent Jesus to restore and redeem the world. Jesus understood evil. He prayed “deliver us from evil.” God could pick a time in the near future and decree that all evil is now banished. But then who of us would still be here? Not I.

Presently, this world is not the best of all possible worlds. Tomorrow’s earthquake, mass-shooting, suicide bomb, rumored war, and cancer patient make me feel like I’m living in the third quarter of Ohio State’s upcoming blowout win over Michigan.

But “it’s the best route to the best of all possible worlds.” I wonder how many people who reject God because of the presence of evil have read the ending to his book. It’s a good ending. He wins. The best possible world arrives. It’ll be a world without pain, suffering, and tears. Love will blow with hurricane force winds. Gratitude and laughter will be as thick as the bullets on D-Day. Cancer won’t be invited. “Freedom will be preserved and evil will be defeated.”

And that’s something for which I am deeply thankful.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Quotes taken from “Who Made God and Answers to Over 100 Other Tough Questions of Faith,” by Ravi Zacharias and Normal Geisler.

Applying for Manager of the Tigers

Dave Dombrowski

President, CEO, and General Manager

Detroit Tigers Baseball Team

Comerica Park

2100 Woodward Ave.

Detroit, MI 48201

November 2, 2013

Dear Mr. Dombrowski,

I would like to apply for the managerial opening of the Detroit Tigers. With nearly 40 years of baseball (watching) experience, I truly feel that I am the man to lead the Tigers to a World Series championship.

I’m sure it is tempting to hire someone who has a wee bit more experience at managing a professional baseball team than I do, somebody like Dusty Baker, but I believe you need a fresh face and some new blood to guide the Tigers through the rigors of the 2014 season.

If there’s anything to be learned from the Redsox and the recent success of the Giants (I’m sure you remember getting swept by San Francisco in 2012) it’s that team chemistry counts. That and growing long, ugly, face-devouring beards. So my first order of business as manager would be to levy heavy fines on any player who shaves after opening day. Chemistry counts. The Giants, A’s, Pirates, and Rays and have shown that the team with the highest payroll doesn’t always reach the playoffs (See: Anaheim Angels of Los Angeles). You have built a team that has the talent to go all the way. So I pledge to hold enough team-building exercises and mountain retreats to ensure that the 2014 Tigers are a united, Kum-Ba-Yah singing, loveable (and bearded) bunch of gritty, hard-nosed ball players.

Boston and San Francisco also proved that it’s helpful to have some damn good starting pitching. Which you have in spades! Now, your job is to get some bullpen help. Your current bullpen is crap. Sure, they can weather the regular season, but I wouldn’t let that crew come within a country mile of the pitcher’s mound in October. Verlander, Scherzer, Fister, and Sanchez can all toss a complete game or two (or 11. Whatever it takes to survive October). Maybe if Jim Leyland had not turned into Captain Hook during the ALCS, the Tigers would have beaten Boston and you’d be having a parade down Woodward right now. Forget about pitch counts. You think Drysdale, Feller, Ford, and Gibson gave a rat’s behind about pitch counts? Well, I don’t either. What’s a little Tommy John surgery?

I know you’re wondering about my experience. Well, I did manage a Little League baseball team about 20 years ago. I was all set to win a championship. I had the best player in the league as my starting pitcher. He could also play short when my shortstop was pitching and he could catch when my catcher was pitching. But then he went down with a broken wrist. The point is that I didn’t try to have him play through his injury like Leyland did with Miguel Cabrerra. As manager, I’d have no problem sitting the best player on the planet. I liked how Leyland dropped strikeout-king and leadoff-hitter Austin Jackson in the lineup. I’d like to drop him to Toledo if you’d dish out the cash for Jacoby Elsbury, but that’s your call there, Dave. My team also had the fattest kid in the league so I know what it’s like to manage Prince Fielder.

I know you’ve interviewed the Padre’s bench coach, but c’mon. I’m sure his resume is impressive. He coached alongside Bud Black, who learned under Mike Scioscia, who played for Tommy Lasorda, who worked with Vin Scully, who knew Abner Doubleday.  Well, my coaching pedigree is almost as stellar. I had my dad as a baseball tutor and as a little league coach. He basically invented the defensive shift. One time in the second grade he moved me from second base to left field when the opponent’s best right-handed hitter was up. Plus, I grew up watching Sparky Anderson. Nobody managed more “by the book” than Sparky. God rest his soul, Sparky never met a percentage play that he didn’t like. In fact, managing a baseball team has become nothing but playing the percentages. It’s not that hard to make sure there’s a lefty ready to face the opponent’s best left-handed batter. Also, I’ve spent the last 12 years watching Scioscia. By doing so, I’ve become an expert in the contact play with a runner at third and the five-man infield.

Nowadays managers have every bit of information at their fingertips. Spray charts, batting tendencies, pitching stats, fielder placement studies. I can use a computer. If I want to know what Mike Trout is hitting against sliders from a righty on Fridays, at night, when it’s a full moon, after having chicken for dinner I can look it up in an instant. So how hard can managing be? You want to know what’s hard? Getting three dozen 10-year-olds to focus for more than five minutes on dividing decimals, that’s what’s hard. I think this more than qualifies me to manage 25 over-paid primadonnas.

Lastly, and maybe most importantly, I can save you a ton of cash. You don’t have to pay me the millions you gave Leyland. I’m good if you double my current teacher’s salary and provide all the postgame Buddy’s Pizza I want (just don’t tell Mike Ilitch. Sorry, I don’t eat Little Caesars). That should free you up to sign Elsbury.

I understand that hiring me would be a risk. But I’m certain you won’t regret it. So let’s make a deal. I’ll let you pick my bench coach. I’m okay with Dusty Baker or even that guy from the Padres.

Sincerely,

Tony Gervase

P.S. I’m pretty sure I’d have the where-with-all to remind my pitcher not to throw a meatball to David Ortiz with the bases loaded and a four-run lead.