Short Stories

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The Ultimate Submission
© Joseph Perrello (Josprel)
[email protected]
1915 words

Based on an actual event in the ministry of the author.

NOTE: The names of all characters have been changed to ensure privacy.

Chris' temper caused him constant problems. It took an ultimate submission for him to control it.

The Ultimate Submission
by
Josprel

Chris had a temper. It flared up only when he felt he was wronged. When that happened - look out; he lost it! He tried to control it; that wasn't it. He just inherited this terrible temper that his mother claimed came from his paternal grandfather. Nevertheless, Chris didn't like it; it caused problems for him.

Like the last softball season for instance. Chris was a star player on the high school team. During the second game, he whacked out a triple. It was a close one, and Chris slid toward third base, arm stretched toward the pad. He knew his fingers touched base before he was tagged, but the umpire called him out anyway.

Then Chris lost it. Wow, did he loose it; one of the worst times in his entire sixteen years!


"You blind old bat! Anyone could see I was safe! Why don't you get glasses?" he bellowed, loud enough for those in the bleachers to hear. It took three players to pull Chris off the terrified umpire, who finally recovered and then barred Chris from the team for the remainder of the season. Only Chris' "First Honors" standing saved him, from also being expelled from school.

There were other times too, though none as bad as that one. Chris' temper impacted on his relationship with almost everyone. He constantly was cautioned to "control that temper," as though he wasn't trying to do so.

"Yeah, sure, that's easy for all of you to say, but I'm the one that lives with it," he would respond.

Worst yet was how his temper impacted on his relationship with René. She and her family had moved into town early last year, and they attended church regularly. At first, she often dated Chris, but no longer. He never had vented his temper on her, but she had seen it in action more than once. The final straw for her was the incident with the umpire. She told Chris, "I enjoy your company, so we'll talk, but there'll be no more dates until your temper is submitted to God. I'll pray for you."

Though René's decision devastated him, Chris answered, "I really don't blame you, René. I don't like being with myself because of this temper of mine, but I can't do anything about it. You know I try. The assistant principle made an appointment for me to talk with the student counselor tomorrow morning. I hope he can do something to help."
**** ****

Chris was sitting before to Mr. Marantano's desk. The student counselor glanced up from a manila folder. "Mr. Spulner asked that I get together with you, Chris."

"Yes, I know."

'Do you also know why?"

"Because of my temper."

"That's right. He told me that you make everyone feel as though they're walking on eggs when they're around you. Why's that Chris?"

Chris didn't answer that one.

"Perhaps it's something in your background causing the problem. Maybe it's how your parents treat you that causes you to blowup. I'll set up an appointment for you to see the psychiatrist our school district uses."

That was too much for Chris. Reigning in his temper, he coldly responded, "Look, you can make all the appointments you want, but I'm not going to any shrink, just because you think I'm a nut case. Well, I'm not! There's nothing in my background that causes my temper, except my grandfather's genes. At least that's what my mom told me. She said I inherited my grandfather's temper, so no shrink's gonna help me. And you can't make me go to one if I refuse to."

The counselor was rendered speechless, but Chris plowed on. "And don't go insulting my parents. They didn't do anything wrong. They're great people. My brothers and sister don't have any blowups and we have the same parents. My parents treat us all the same, so that proves it's not my upbringing. They can't help it, and neither can I, if I inherited my grandfather's genes. My mom said that they chose me instead of my bothers and sisters. That makes my genes responsible for my temper, not my parents."

The flabbergasted counselor dismissed Chris.
***** *****
Softball season soon would begin and Chris was worried. A repeat of last season was unthinkable; he had to talk to somebody. That Friday night, after youth meeting, René advised him to speak to Jim, the youth pastor.

"He's helped other kids. Let's ask him," she prompted.

"I don't think so. He told me he wants to talk to me before I can join the church team."

"Are you going to?"

"Nope, I know what he wants; he thinks I'll cause problems."

"Can you blame him? Our church team plays other churches. Even people who don't go to church come to see the games. What would they think of our church, seeing you yelling and fighting during a game? Pastor Jim has to think of that."

Chris studied his feet. "You're not telling me anything I haven't told myself. I'm not blaming him. If I were him, I wouldn't let me play either."

"Then talk to him."

"I don't know what to say."

"Do it anyway, blockhead! Jesus will help you say what you should."

Chris was quiet, struggling deeply to convince himself to do something he didn't want to do. Finally, he stood and said, "Okay, let's do it."

René's face brightened into a wide smile. "Great! Let's go!"
***** *****
Pastor Jim already was waiting at Burger Heaven when Chris arrived. They ordered and sat down and asked the blessing. At first, as they ate, their topic was small talk. Then Jim asked, "How may I help you Chris?"

Studying his burger, Chris remained silent. Scolded so often for his temper, he found it difficult to speak of it.

Jim waited, patiently.

"Well . . . Well . . . Well . . . Well, it's about my temper!!

"What about it?"

"Sometimes I really loose it. Like last year, when I was kicked off the team and almost expelled from school."

"I remember."

"Well, I'm playing again. Coach is already on me about my temper. I just know I'll blow it!"

"What can you do about it?"

"René told me to submit it to the Lord."

"Have you done so?"

"I've prayed."

"Did you submit your temper to the Lord, when you prayed?"

"I try to control it."

"But did you submit your temper to the Lord?"

Chris was growing agitated. He felt trapped. Anger tinged his tone. "Pastor Jim, I told you, I try to control it!!"

"Does that work, Chris?"

Chris looked sheepish; he knew it didn't!

"Why do you avoid my question, Chris?"

Deep in thought, Chris nibbled at his food. Suddenly, as though struck by a bolt of realization, he exclaimed, "You know what, Pastor Jim? I think I've been fighting this all alone!"

"What makes you think so?"

Well, I never really submitted my temper to the Lord. I thought I had to deal with it on my own!"

"And what do you think now?"

"I think I should let God deal with it. Will you pray with me?"

"I sure will!"

The two met several times after that, usually after Chris' softball practice. One session especially impressed Chris: Pastor Jim recalled an illustration the senior pastor once used of an alcoholic who had turned his life over to God, but just couldn't kick his habit. Returning home from work required his passing the bar he frequented each Friday, where he drank away most of his pay.

The Friday after he surrendered to God, he tried walking past, but failed. He entered the bar. After sobering up, he was devastated. Wasn't God supposed to deliver him from his habit? The next Friday was a repeat performance. Only, that day, he crossed to the opposite side of the street and tried praying his way past the bar.

Again, he failed!

After the third Friday's failure, he knew drastic action was needed. He felt he must prove to himself and to the devil that he meant business about not entering the bar.

The following Friday, as he approached the bar, he dropped to his knees. Clasping his hands as though in prayer, he lifted his eyes heavenward and crawled on his knees past the bar, praying.

And he went home sober.

The next Friday several of his former drinking buddies were waiting outside the bar. Now he faced a tremendous battle. Would it be his pride, or would it be his Lord?

Again, he fell to his knees. Despite the jeers of his old cronies, he repeated his desperate crawling, with the same result. Never again did that man touch another drop of liquor.

"You see, Chris," Pastor Jim concluded, "He gave God his ultimate submission. He refused to let pride defeat his commitment to the Lord. Loss of temper is rooted in pride. Our pride is wounded, so we retaliate."

Chris understood, but he didn't think he could ever go public like that guy did.
***** *****
The school team was doing great. It was playing its final game before the play-offs. Chris' sessions with Jim had paid off; his temper was under control. He and René were dating again. As far as Chris was concerned, everything was fabulous.

The opposing team was good, the game close, fast moving. By second inning Chris got the bat. After winding up, the pitcher burned in a precise sizzler. Whack, went the catcher's mitt.

"Strike!" bellowed the home plate umpire.

The second pitch went wide.

"Ball!" yelled the umpire.

With a jarring thud, the bat connected with the third pitch. The ball arched high. If not caught, it was a sure triple or a possible homer!

It wasn't caught, but as Chris rounded toward third, the outfielder scooped it, and sent it to the baseman. Chris went to ground. He bellied in and touched third base with no time to spare. It was close!

Chris was tagged, but even the baseman apparently thought he was safe; tight-lipped, he just tossed the ball to the pitcher. As Chris prepared to take his base, to his chagrin, he heard, "You're out!! You're out!!"

Turning toward the voice, Chris recognized the same infield umpire he had called a "blind old bat." The man also recognized Chris and backed away, motioning with his thumb for Chris to vacate the base.

Seeing Chris' face flush, the third baseman also backed off. Chris' explosions of temper were infamous throughout the league. The baseman wanted no part of this one.

"You're out! Vacate the base!" the umpire again bar.

Chris' rage mounted. Fists clenched, he was seeing red! "This umpire has it in for me," he told the baseman.

Then, deep within him flashed the words, "ultimate submission." Chris knew they were intended for such a time as this. The spectators, especially the infield umpire and the baseman, were bewildered as Chris slowly sank to his knees, hands held high, eyes lifted towards heaven, as though in prayer. As he knelt, a hush descended over the field, continuing after he rose to his feet.

With his right hand extended, Chris moved closer to the umpire, who nervously took a backward step. Clasping the man's hand, Chris shook it.

"O.K. Ump, you said I'm out, so I'll leave the base."

The players, the umpires and the spectators stared in slack-jawed surprise at Chris' returned to the bench. However, Chris was at peace, his temper subjected to God through an ultimate submission.

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For more stories and articles by Josprel, log on to:

http://www.worthfinding.com/columns/perrello.html
FaithWriters.com
ChristianWriters.com
AuthorZone.com
http://www.geocities.com/josprel

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