Opening Day at the Cordova Lane baseball fields should have looked like a Norman Rockwell painting. Nearly 500 kids and their families showed up. Gloves are still stiff from the store. Jerseys with fresh fold lines. Parents juggling coffee cups and folding chairs while coaches greeted families they hadn’t seen since last season.

Youth sports are at their best. At least they should be. But before the first pitch was thrown, the first challenge of the morning had already begun. Parking.

Anyone who has spent time around the Cordova Lane fields knows the routine. The facility has limited parking. On Saturdays, parents circle the blocks looking for a spot while kids hop out with bats and backpacks. Last Saturday was no different, except for one detail.

Within about one hundred yards of those fields sit three large churches. On Sundays, the goal is to have those parking lots full of worshippers. On Saturdays, they sit mostly empty. But when families tried to use them for overflow parking, they encountered something else. Chains. A parking enforcer. And in one case, an SUV positioned across an entrance like a defensive lineman protecting the goal line. Even Dinger, the River Cats mascot roaming the grounds that morning, had to make the half-mile hike like everyone else.

Walking in, you could see the three parking “policies” in real time.

Church One — Chained Off
A chain stretched across the entrance. Behind it sat a wide, empty lot.

Church Two — Personal Parking Lot Protector
A lone individual stationed like a suburban parking marshal, making sure no car crossed the invisible boundary.

Church Three — Suburban SUV Roadblock
An SUV was parked sideways across the driveway entrance like a barricade protecting the empty lot from minivans.

To be fair, churches absolutely have the legal right to control their property. This isn’t a legal debate. But it does raise a deeper question. What does community mean?

Across the street, volunteers were organizing teams, teaching kids sportsmanship, and reminding them to pick up trash because “this is our field.” Youth sports exist largely because adults donate time and energy so kids can learn teamwork, resilience, and discipline. Those values don’t stop at the foul line.

One of the most well-known stories in the Bible is the Parable of the Good Samaritan. A man is beaten and left on the road. Two religious leaders passed by. The one who stops to help is the outsider. The lesson is simple. Compassion beats convenience.

A healthy community works best when its institutions see themselves as part of the same ecosystem. Schools, churches, youth leagues, nonprofits, and families share the same quiet mission: helping the next generation grow up healthy and hopeful. Sometimes that mission is as simple as opening a gate. Imagine the message it would send if one of those churches posted a small sign on Saturdays that read: Community Parking — Welcome.

A frustrating morning suddenly becomes a moment of partnership. Parents remember it. Kids notice it. Relationships begin.

Imagine if a church were so inviting that as parents passed by, they were handed a hot cup of coffee, hot chocolate, or a bottle of cold water. Maybe even a snow cone on the way home from the ballpark.

The irony is that if the churches allowed their parking lots to be used on Saturday, they might find them fuller on Sunday. Church growth in its simplest form.

If Jesus were here today, would He be on parking patrol or passing out water to the thirsty?

Culture is rarely built in big speeches. It’s built in small decisions that say, “You belong here, even if you have yet to believe here.”

Last Saturday offered a reminder of both possibilities. Locked gates — or an open opportunity.

And if the latter is chosen, those three churches will have hit a grand slam.