The broadside is titled Know The Score,” and when we distribute it, it is seldom refused. People of all ages take it with glee, proud that they know how to use it. “Know the Score” is a baseball score card, but there is more to it than that. Wrapped around the scorecard is a short gospel message that challenges the readers to check their spiritual inventory and discover their need for the Savior.

“Score card,” I barked out, as the crowds pressed in on me. It was opening day for baseball in our nation’s capital and a day of firsts for the Jews for Jesus Washington, D.C. branch. It was the first time we had been given the green light for distributing broadsides at RFK Stadium, and the first time the Baltimore Orioles (or any baseball team) had played there.

Though my Jews for Jesus shirt clearly identified me, most of the fans were only concerned to grab the score card, the one free item being offered at the stadium. Most of them were too excited to question the source of the free cards, and as a result I had the joyful dilemma of trying to move my hands fast enough to accommodate the crowd.

That is, most did not question the source, except for a young Jewish family of five. The crowd was thin at that point, so they got a good look at my shirt. “Would you like a scorecard?” I asked. The oldest of the three children reached out his little hand, but as is our policy I was holding the tract out toward the parents. My first indication that the family was Jewish was the look the father gave me. If looks could kill, my wife would be collecting life insurance.

“David, no!” the father said sharply. A Jewish star dangled proudly from the mother’s neck as she held the hand of her youngest child. She slowed her gait to give impact to her words. “You’re disgusting!” The father also slowed down to say, “We’re real Jews!”

“I didn’t know somebody was making clones,” I replied.

The oldest child was not sure what to make of this, but he had come to a full stop. Perhaps he was still waiting for his free score card. “The issue is not who we are, it’s who Jesus is”, I added calmly. The father spoke as the mother drew her brood away from me, especially the oldest child.

“You’re no Jew,” he uttered. “Drop dead.”

By talking to them I had missed giving the cards to a few bewildered fans who passed by, but it was worth it to see the eldest son sneak a “score card” from the pavement where someone had dropped it and put it into his back pocket.

It is sad to think that many will miss out on the love of Messiah because the truth does not agree with them. As for knowing the score, I hope and pray that this particular family, and especially their eldest son who grabbed the tract, will settle their score with God before they go into a Christless eternity.


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