I knocked the dust off my cleats, prepared to make a stand.
I dug deep with my back foot, rested lightly on my front,
And considered if I should swing away, or lay down a perfect bunt.
I glared in at the pitcher, swung the bat in practice style.
I felt a lump in my throat. The pitcher looked so vile.
I felt a sudden tremble. Satan rubbed the ball,
And smile to show his slimy teeth. I was drained of all my gall.
I glanced to the coach’s box. My Savior gave me a nod.
“You can do this trouper, just trust the power of God.”
How could I explain to Jesus that I have lost my nerve.
As if He knew, he shouted, “He only throws a curve.”
The first pitch looked in my wheelhouse. I gave a might swing,
To see the ball drop low and out. I didn’t hit a thing.
The second pitch looked well outside, but bent across the zone.
I was down to one last swing, I felt so all alone.
“He just throws curves,” I heard a shout. “It’s not where it appears.”
“Don’t swing with just your insight, nor swing with all your fears.”
“If the ball bends in”, I reasoned, “it won’t be where it looks.”
“If Satan throws only deception, I’ll swings after it hooks.”
Satan kicked up high in windup, and feigned a powerful throw.
”Another lie”, I told myself. “This pitch is coming in slow.”
The pitch was sailing for my head. I thought to fall away.
Instead I stood and watch the sphere, approaching with delay,
Change its course to towards the zone. I dipped to start my swing.
With power I had never known, I hit the curving thing.
The ball sailed far and deep that day, further than I deserved.
And I learn my lesson for sure. Satan only throws a curve.