Golfing in the Reign

A ONE Church Devotional about Learning Whenever and Wherever God Teaches

Hello, ONE Church Devo friends. I hope you are well on this mid-July day. As a break between commandments, we look today at the wild ways God finds to form our lives. Oddly enough, this quest takes us to the north coast of the Emerald Isle and the 153rd playing of the British Open golf tournament in Northern Ireland.

The photo captures Dunluce Castle and the majestic shores of the Irish Sea in one of the many vistas at Royal Portrush Golf Club. Enjoy!

Today is British Open Thursday. For me — both an anglophile and a golf-crazed sort — British Open week is an annual 4-day holiday, culminating with a full English (or this year Irish) breakfast and a usually-thrilling final round on the tele. (See what I did there?)

This latest occasion has a star next to it because the tournament is being contested on my favorite golf course in the world: the Royal Portrush Golf Club. Because of the dunes and bumps and gullies that dot the land so near the sea, this and other Open courses are known for their unpredictable bounces and fickle coastal weather. As the Scots would say, “Nae wind, nae rain — nae golf!” (Loose Translation: If there isn’t wind and there isn’t rain, it’s not really golf.)

These bad hops and big breezes play havoc with the best laid plans of the best golfers in the world, who are accustomed to more control over the process — and severely tests their patience. These Zeus-blessed men with thunder in their forearms often let sudden bursts of frustration and anger distract them from their usual sturdy resolve.

Suddenly, in other words, these demi-gods of golf look like us mortal hackers.

Here’s the brief tale of a single round I played on a links course a while back, which could describe many others of my futile attempts to master this God-blessed, God-forsaken game.

At 9 AM I hit a splendid, powerful drive down the first fairway with an ease that surprised even me. A second shot graced the green, and two putts completed an opening par. This clearly established that God was in God’s heaven, and all was right with the world. I pondered whether I might just break the course record.

The bliss broke. By 10:05 AM I was steaming mad on the 5th hole, as I watched my well-intended iron swing gash the ball into the deep fescue grass on the way to the green. (triple bogey!)

After that, a few off-center swings joined forces with killer kicks and some wicked weather to produce two more bogeys.

That’s when I lost my cool. I pounded my club into the ground, regretted it, fixed the dent, then called myself names all the way to the next tee.

All of this would have been bad enough, but then my anger distracted my attention from the task at hand and engineered its own string of very bad shots over the next four holes.

Now deep in the slew of despond (gratuitous Pilgrim’s Progress reference) and with an irreparably damaged score, I finally realized the irony of it all and rebuked myself:

“How silly are you?!” said I to me. “You’re irate at a bad 7-iron shot because it damages your round, then your anger does more damage than that one 7-iron ever could have.” In this moment of insight, the Apostle Paul’s words sprang to mind: “Be angry, but do not sin.” (Ephesians 4.26) Then leftover memories from grad school recalled for me a Seneca essay about how human decision should kick in after the unavoidable emotion of ire, but before we act on it. (“On Anger” 1.8)

Joy arrived unexpectedly later. I still hadn’t hit even one really good shot through nine holes. But suddenly, from a difficult lie on the course’s hardest hole, facing a long carry over a deep ravine, my Callaway 3-wood struck a dimpled Taylor Made TP5 ball precisely as God intended. Every single thing fell into sync with the cosmos and produced one small moment of perfection. My arms rose involuntarily upward, my voice sang out celebration, and all was exquisitely right with the world. The ball soared splendidly over the gaping hazard toward the bright yellow flag perched on a distant, manicured green. But this was actually secondary. The glee was in the raw aesthetic glory of pure impact transmitted through graphite to my hands – and how it helped resolve my earlier turmoil. “Joy comes in the morning”, sang the Psalmist (30.5); and John Keats wrote, “A thing of beauty is a joy forever.” I wondered if King David and Mr. Keats were golfers.

The Epistle of James joined this strange interior conversation on my drive home, as my memory walked me back through the downs and ups of my round. “Consider it all joy, my brothers and sisters, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance.” (James 1.2) Then to Paul in prison telling his Philippians how much he is rejoicing. (Philippians 2.17-18) Could I have seen those difficult moments as opportunities to grow? Could I have willed joy even amid that clanking badness in my swing and the bevy of bad bounces? Or is my joy conditioned on hitting brilliant three woods over perilous obstacles?

God sometimes teaches me more spiritual truth in a four-hour session on the links than in the rest of my week – about myself, about temptation, about grace, about truth. Golf exposes me, a thing that is both painful and very good.

While I have probably lost my non-golfer friends by now, I’m banking on the likelihood that you have your own microcosm – your own part-life that mirrors your whole life and helps you learn to walk the world, exposes your shortcomings, leads you to grace. Is it music well-performed? Hiking or biking through the glories of creation? Meditation? A game of chess? Or raising a child?

If we listen, God will find a way to teach us, friends. And God will probably even teach some of those frustrated pros at Portrush this weekend as they battle the elements. Our Creator and guide will reach us by whatever means we allow. As you navigate this day, consider what little encounters tell you about your God and yourself and the world you inhabit.

But here’s my hearty invitation: give Golfing in the Reign (or doing whatever your own microcosm may be in the Reign) a fair chance.

Have a thrilling British Open Thursday!

Prayer -- God of our whole lives, you reach and you teach, and sometimes we see. Help us see more often, in Jesus. Amen.

*Important Note: This devo should not be taken as license to learn golf’s valuable lessons instead of attending Sunday worship. I have learned that one can actually do both. (Smile.)