Kerry Wood can throw a baseball 100-mph. The few pitchers who can throw the ball that fast, with control, are in high demand. A 110-mph fastball reaches the catcher four-tenths of a second after it leaves the pitcher's hand. These pitchers are usually called in towards the end of a game and throw only 10 to 20 pitches. They look different. They often have a belly because "it gives them a solid foundation when they're poised on one leg." Speaking about his pitching, Wood said, "It was a gift, without a doubt . . . . You're given it at birth. It can't be taught, or you can't lift weights to get it. But it can be taken away from you" ("The Hardest Stuff," Pat Jordan, NYT Magazine, 9/14/03). Kerry Wood has the humility to recognize that his pitching is essentially a gift. He exercises the gift, but he knows he didn't create it. He also understands that a 100-mph fastball pitcher is paid to do one thing. No one expects Wood to play first base, coach the infield, or drive the bus. He pitches 100-mph fastballs. That's his gift. The team does best when he's free to exercise that gift. And Kerry Wood has accepted his gift. At times, he may want to coach third, write a novel, or be a pastry chef. But he may lose the gift if it's not exercised. If he doesn't throw hard and throw fast, the whole team suffers. The 100-mph fastball pitcher is a picture of the Christian properly functioning as an individual part of the unified Body of Christ. The apostle Paul tell us that God gives each Christian particular gifts: For as in one body we have many members, and not all the members have the same function, so we, who are many, are one body in Christ, and individually we are members of one another. We have gifts that differ according to the grace given to us . . . (Romans 12:4 - 6). Some are preachers; some are administrators; some are parents; some are artists. And some are fastball pitchers. Today it seems that everyone is anxious to lead a "balanced" life. We want to be able to succeed at a little bit of everything. We want the individual parts of our lives to weigh precisely the same. I often strive to achieve a perfect professional, spiritual, and domestic equilibrium that will be the envy of all. This is a formula for frustration. As pastor and speaker Reggie McNeil says, "Frisbees are balanced. Not people." The Christians I observe who recognize, accept, and exercise their gifts are not the most "balanced" people I know. They seem, however, focused and content. In the exercising of their gifts, they've stopped worrying about what people think. A musician practices alone at odd hours; a father changes jobs to spend more time with his children; a would-be novelist devotes her vacation to writing. What's balanced about that?         In order to exercise our God-given gifts, we may have to be willing to appear a little unbalanced. Do you think Kerry Wood cares if you think he's got a gut? Drew Rollins