Josh Hamilton: Just a man

One year ago I wrote a post about the herculean hero of the 2008 All-Star Game, Josh Hamilton. Okay, he was the hero of the Home Run Derby the day before, but his monstrous 28 homers in the first round alone proved the story of all the festivities.

What made Hamilton's story extraordinary was how he frittered away first-round draft pick status on drugs, alcohol, and women only to have his life and his baseball career resurrected by his relationship with Jesus Christ. During his phenomenal success during All-Star Week 2008, Josh Hamilton repeatedly deflected the accolades heaped upon him toward his Lord and Savior Jesus Chris. None could deny that the breath of life his life and career received came from none other than God Almighty.

The quiet, humble Hamilton became a national hero.

On a January evening in Phoenix, Arizona, his humanity reared its ugly head.

For whatever reason the man who went with him whenever he went out on the town to keep him from alcohol and drugs either a) didn't do his job or b) was not with Josh. One drink. Just one drink. But one led to two and then to three. Pretty soon the married and inebriated Hamilton was being photographed with women doing things that would jeopardize any marriage and that would tarnish any hero status.

The photos didn't surface until this week. Hamilton pulled no punches and laid no blame. He accepted full responsibility for his inappropriate behavior explaining that right after the incident he confessed to his wife and confessed to the Rangers.

What's the point? Really, there are lots. Every sports venue is weighing in some comparing the contrition of Hamilton with the "I'm-sorry-I-got-busted" attitude of steroid users (like Big Papi). I've heard nary a peep about the devastating, far-reaching consequences of sin.

A known alcoholic cannot touch alcohol. Can't. Josh knew that. His wife knew that--and trusted him not to touch it. Josh broke that trust.

Let's toss some napalm on the fire. Let's bring a few bar vixens into the mix. And a dude with a camera. Now your wife gets to see you in living color, not jacking homers deep into the Arlington evening, but letting a trio of tarts clinging to the triceps she thought were hers alone. Love? Honor?

What about his kids (does he have kids?)? Want that poster of your dad on your bedroom wall?

And what about Christ? The Bible says Christians are ambassadors for their risen Lord. How's that reflect on Christ? Now, Christians understand that they are not immune to sin, but the world only sees hypocrites.

What else? Who else? Fans young and old? Teammates? Endorsements? Mom and Dad?

One night. One drink. One indiscretion.

Can a man take fire to his bosom,
And his clothes not be burned?
Can one walk on hot coals,
And his feet not be seared?

Now here's the kicker. Josh is high visibility. I am not. The malignant consequences for my sin extend no less far for me than they do for an All-Star Texas Ranger.

Oh, that I would see the fetid nature of my sin as God sees it. To then repent and confess and to receive the cleansing from sin that only the triune God through the blood of Christ can offer.
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(This morning, my pastor delivered a searing sermon on the consequences of the hidden sin of one man and our willingness to fondle sin. Listen to it here. It'll run you 35 minutes. It's downloadable, too, if you'd prefer.)