How to Interpret God's Direction in Your Life
So, God Told You, Eh? Prove it.
“I have some friends who played in Boston.”
He said it in a manner I might have used about eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches as a child. I mean, who didn’t, right? But while he was matter of fact about the relationships he’d developed while playing professional baseball, my inner fanboy was pounding at the bars of my ribcage, begging for more information.
It was early spring, 2022. I’d created a podcast to help myself and listeners get more acquainted with people living in my community. I was also using the endeavor to work on my writing and storytelling ability. I’d recently decided to pursue the art of writing on a more serious level, believing it was the closest thing I had to a God-given skill.
When the baseball team at Salisbury University won the NCAA Division III National Championship, I was intrigued. Once upon a time, I played D3 college ball for a team which didn’t quite [← sarcasm] reach those heights. I wanted to meet the coach who had done it and hear about the experience. It seemed the perfect subject for an episode of the Delmarva’s Own podcast.
This is how I found myself sitting shoulder to shoulder with my close friend and podcast co-host, Randy, who is also the co-host of a top-rated morning radio show in Salisbury, MD. He’s also a professional voice-over talent. There is a strong chance you’ve heard his voice on a commercial or two.
Also with me was a new friend, Will, the Assistant Director of Sports Communications at Salisbury University. Will had set up the time for the interview with Coach Troy Brohawn.
Seasoned interviewers who know what they’re doing are well prepared. I was not seasoned. As such, I’d only begun to research Coach Brohawn that morning, just hours before our meeting. This is when I’d learned he was once a relief pitcher on the 2001 Arizona Diamondbacks, the team won the 2001 World Series and thus ended the reign of the New York Yankees dynasty of the late 1990s and early 2000s.
I admit I was somewhat star-struck. Perhaps if I’d prepared a bit earlier, I’d have had time to decompress. But circumstances being they were, it took some effort to focus on the conversation. I was sitting across a desk from someone who literally lived a boyhood dream of mine, and dare I say millions of kids who grew up as Red Sox fans.
He’d been on a team that beat the New York Yankees to win the World Series.1
Randy, Will and I enjoyed the conversation. After I turned the microphones off, we continued to talk a bit.
“So, you’re from Boston?” Coach Brohawn asked.
“Yep. I lived in the area for 33 years.” I explained.
This is when he dropped his “friends who played in Boston” comment in a matter-of-fact, pragmatic tone. I’d learned in our conversation that Brohawn doesn’t think he’s anything particularly special. There’s some pride in his accomplishments, for sure, but he takes them in stride. There’s nothing big-headed about him. He was simply a good athlete and worked at it. It led where it led, which is was a championship at the high school, college, and professional level. Brohawn is the only person, ever, to do this.
His comment about friends who played in Boston triggered my dopamine receptors. I need more…! I wanted to know which friends had played in Boston. So, I asked him.
“Well, I’m close friends with Keith Foulke.” He told me.
“Keith Foulke?!? Seriously?”
In 2003, the year I caught a home run ball hit by Doug Mirabelli, the Red Sox were missing a couple pieces which might get them over the hump to win a World Series. One of those pieces was a world-class closer; a late-inning pitcher who would slam the door shut at the end of the game.
Keith Foulke was that closer. He was the pitcher on the mound when the ‘Sox won the series in 2004.
My giddiness continued to boil within me.
Throwing a straightjacket at my 14-year-old inner self, I simply nodded, smiled and asked a follow-up question. “How did you become friends with Keith?”
“We came up to the big-leagues together and were roommates for a while in San Francisco.” He answered. “We were best friends.” Brohawn sat back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling, going through his mental rolodex of friends who had played in Boston.
“Oh, and Doug Mirabelli is a friend of mine too.”
I couldn’t have heard that right.
“Who?” I asked, double-checking to be sure my hearing wasn’t off.
“Doug Mirabelli. A Catcher.”
With that, I dropped all pretense. I quickly processed the fact that I was sitting across the desk from someone who was friends with Doug Mirabelli, the player who hit the home run I’d experienced as a message from God. In the moment, over 18 years later, I felt a bit like I was back in my seat on the Green Monster at Fenway.
“I know who he is! I caught a home run ball he hit!” I blurted out the words before I remembered I was trying to act professional. Collecting myself, I began to explain how important my “interaction” with Mirabelli was.
“It was more than a home run ball to me …” I paused, concerned he might think I was a religious fanatic or something. Thinking better of trying to convince the World Series Champion of how awesome that day in 2003 was for me, I truncated my story. “Well … it was just an important day for me for reasons that are hard to explain. They’re personal. I’ve always wanted to meet Doug. I want to get the ball signed.”
I stopped, hoping my hint was more effective than it was inappropriate.
“We could probably make that happen.”
Once again composed, I didn’t press the issue. While I was hopeful that I’d finally get to meet Doug, I also still didn’t want to play the part of the fanboy. I was grateful Coach Brohawn had given me his time.
“That would be great.” I said.
I thanked him for the interview, and told him I’d reach out in the future, so perhaps I could explain a bit more.
Make no mistake, the meeting with Coach Brohawn seemed like a divine appointment. I mean, the first former MLB player I meet is friends with the guy who hit the home run ball I caught the day I decided I believed in God?
Or, maybe it wasn’t a god, but some other force working out moments behind the scenes in ways I’d find meaningful and helpful. Catching the home run ball had more apparent value than just a moment in time for me. Meeting Coach Brohawn, friend of Mirabelli, seemed to fit a pattern in my mind. The moment at least had serendipitous value for me.
There is every chance it was nothing more than a coincidence.
A caveat: consider this story which happened to me just yesterday -
I was outside - all alone - examining the siding on my house. I was pleased the pressure washing job we paid for last year has lasted longer than I expected. Then, I noticed a little sapling growing in the rain gutter at the edge of the roof. It occurred to me I should invest in some gutter guards to keep debris out of them. It was just a thought in my head. I didn’t say anything to anyone and just went on with my day.
Later that evening as the day was winding down, I began to scroll through Facebook when, wouldn’t you know it, there was an ad for gutter guards. Weird, right? Was Facebook reading my friggin mind?
No. Of course not. But my mind didn't want it to be a coincidence. It needed to understand why I got an ad for something I had just - and only - thought about. Scientists would state it’s nothing more than illusory pattern perception. They’d explain that our tendency to find patterns in our life experiences is normal, but for other reasons. That “[t]he desire to make sense of the world is of particular importance to people when they lack control […] or when they are uncertain […].”2 They might also point out mid-late august is a perfect time to install gutter guards on your gutters to prevent the soon-to-be-falling leaves from getting in them, hence the ad.
Was my baseball experience simply a case of illusory pattern perception? After all, I was sitting in prime home run ball territory.
I mean, I’d been uncertain about my faith and then, wouldn’t you know it, Mirabelli hits one of his rare home runs.
To me.
When it comes to my experiences with the home run ball, I’d even confess to holding cognitive bias towards them. I don’t just need for these things to be connected, I want them to be. And I like the idea that there’s some higher power out there looking out for me, manipulating things so I can find meaning in life and the way it plays out.
When I can’t explain things … then … it … must be God, right? Pointing me in a certain direction? Right?
If you’re detecting some doubt here, then you’re catching what I’m slinging.
So what to do? How are we to act in response to what we experience as God’s direction, or the serendipity, or the pattern recognition in our brain for the purpose of evolutionary advantage?
I think the most obvious thing we can do is get to work.
This is what I did or, probably better stated, what I’m doing.
I left Coach Brohawn’s office and began working on my first memoir almost immediately. I began writing about my life, the way I was raised in the church, how I loved baseball growing up, how I lost my faith … sorta found it … enter Mirabelli, and so on…
I’ve faced imposter syndrome and self-doubt the whole way I mean, who am I to write this? Who cares?
Then I remembered one more experience I’d had, and wondered if it might be included in the series of serendipitous hints coming my way.
In the fall of 2021, a few months before my meeting with Coach Brohawn, I was on my way home from dropping my son off for his first year at college. I had pulled into a Burger King parking lot. The sign in the parking lot caught my attention because it was having some electrical issues and the fluorescent bulbs were flashing. As I looked over, I caught the message left on it.
“NOW HIRING CLOSERS.”
This immediately brought Keith Foulke to mind.
Some time after his World Series heroics, Foulke made an unfortunate, off-hand comment about Burger King. It wasn’t the best judgement and I’m sure he’d like to have it back. We’ve all made comments like this. But given his place in society, he was hit pretty hard for it. As I looked at the Burger King sign flashing “NOW HIRING CLOSERS” years after Foulke’s baseball career ended, I couldn’t help but see humor in it. So, I snapped a picture and posted it to Instagram, tagging Foulke.
Not long after, I saw he’d left a comment. “That’s funny and perfect for me.” He replied to my little gag.
Months later, after meeting Coach Brohawn, I tagged Foulke in a comment on the thread, and he confirmed they came up through the minors together.
More divine intervention?
I don’t know. But the interaction was enough to help me continue to work on my book. I think it’s what I’m supposed to do. At least do the work, even if the book doesn’t end up happening.
Back in the day when I thought God called me to be a college president I went around spouting about it, claiming it as truth, expecting everyone to praise me for hearing God’s direction in my life. To a large degree, they did.
Very supportive, those friends in my Christian community.
But you know who was the most reserved about the call?
My grandfather. The guy who was an actual college president 4 times over. I don’t recall that he even smiled when I told him I thought God wanted me to walk in his footsteps. He didn’t tell me he was proud. He didn’t tell me nothing would make him happier. Instead, he simply told me to train “as if” God had called me. He told me to do the work. He told me the work was key to unlocking the truth to whether God called me to it or not.
Young, naïve and with toxic levels of privileged complacency, I did the opposite. I expected it to work itself out.
So these days, I try to keep to grandpa’s admonition in mind when I consider God’s voice in my life. I take it as a maybe. I think perhaps I’m supposed to write, and share my stories with the world.
The one book I ever wanted to write was about the day I caught a baseball at Fenway Park. When I finally got serious about learning to tell stories - you know, like by starting a podcast and blog - I met a guy that is friends with Doug Mirabelli.
A hint I’m on the right track, maybe?
And I had in exchange with that guy’s other friend, a Red Sox legend of sorts.
Perhaps another little nod to move forward?
Recently, I started a new job at a different university a couple hours from Salisbury University. As I was walking on campus I saw there was a team taking batting practice. The visiting team was wearing familiar yellow and maroon colors. Sure enough, it was Salisbury.
I decided to take a chance.
I entered the visiting dugout and found Coach Brohawn working on the lineup hanging at the opposite end.
“Hey! Coach!” I said, getting his attention and reaching towards him. “Jeff Scott … we did a podcast episode last spring.”
Coach reached out and shook my hand. “Yeah, I remember. You’re the guy with the Mirabelli ball.”
I was relieved. I told him I still wanted to fill him in on the story. I didn’t tell him I still wanted to get it signed. I didn’t want to push the issue yet.
To be honest, I’m not sure how I’ll broach the subject. The last thing I want to do is seem like a fanboy, or just someone trying to take advantage of him.
Maybe I’ll find a passive-aggressive way.
Like, say, writing a blog post or two. Then I’ll send him a short email with a link.
We’ll see.
I don’t think Troy Brohawn would say it is unfair to claim he simply rode the wave of his team’s success in the 2001 World Series. He had not pitched since the regular season, having been left off the roster until the World Series. He didn’t pitch until the 9th inning of game 6, and when he entered his team was up by 13 runs. He faced 4 batters and finished the game. Of note, however, was the third hitter he faced, Yankees 3rd baseman Scott Brosius.
Brosius popped up for the second out of the inning. After his career in MLB was over, Brosius would go on to coach his college alma mater to a NCAA Div. III World Series Championship. Until Brohawn did the same in 2021, Brosius was the only person to wear a World Series Championship ring and a College National Championship ring. And in the one inning Brohawn pitched in the World Series, they faced each other. You can’t make this stuff up.
Well here's a topic that has no business even trying to be unpacked in a blog comment section, LOL!! These synchronicities are amazing when they happen, but when there is a thread of unexpected purpose within them, it definitely acts as a call to slow WAY down, find some silence, and really feel into what is moving. The pessimist will always bring up the Vegas odds theory about these sorts of instances, and that may be true for some of these scenarios, while others will cite ideas like, "The Proximity Principle", to explain that one's chances of meeting the right people at the right time is drastically increased by concious choices one makes prior to these happenings. Sort of like, there's always a chance you might get struck by lightning, but moving to Florida to take a job as a line worker with a power company lowers those odds. :D
On the other hand, I have at least a half dozen examples of this same thing happening in my life. I also have moments of 'what?' like constantly seeing "1:11, 11:11, 2:22, etc." thoroughout my day... which may or may not mean anything, as well as a couple of interactions with former Red Sox pitcher 'Oil Can' Boyd, that may have had some underlying impact on my life, but at least to date was not as clearly significant as these other half dozen significant moments were.... how to even say it (???)... of a different cosmic fabric, altogether. One, which is similar to the Mirabelli ball because it has been an unfolding part of my journey for almost 25 years, had the quality in the first moments that there was clearly something else driving, yet in that moment if you asked me what it meant then, I would have NO clue of the fullness of how it would (or could) still impact a life that has been filled with hundreds of thousands of choices that theoretically could have changed the impact since that initial day. Some of these choices were deeply personal, and if associated with any other set of circumstances likely would have resulted in something very different. I am being coy, but again, not sure the comments section of a blog is the place to fully unpack this one, as comments should have some sort of word count cap. :)
I'll pause here, but one thing I'll say I completely agree with is the comments on 'work'. I think this is a DELICIOUS paradox (and I am far from having any of this figured out), but I have seen it is the case where both things are true - there is really nothing we need to do for these things to unfold, BUT most of the time we need to be doing something in order for revelation and/or fruition to occur. The comment doesn't capture it, but I get the sense you probably understand what I am saying!
Thanks again for sharing your journey, Jeff!