February 8, 2009
Grace Church
Rev. Robert E. Hensley

Isaiah 40:21-23; Psalm 147:1-12, 21c; 1 Corinthians 9:16-23; Mark 1:29-39

      Let us pray.  Keep us in your image, O God, that we may be givers of life in the midst of death; that we may be lovers where there is no love; that we may be creators of new dreams where there is no vision.  All this we ask so that your name may be glorified and your love made known through us; in Christ’s name we pray.  Amen. 
 

      Picture the setting as a great cathedral, with rays of late afternoon sun that gild the hushed sanctuary, filled with hundreds of expectant worshipers, world leaders among them. From high up in the vaulted ceiling, a camera pans the scene. 
 

      Holding their breath as one, the congregation watches the mitered celebrant walk down the aisle and slowly approach the chancel, his brightly colored vestments adding to the joyful setting. There is neither a cough nor a whisper as he kneels on the lush carpet, seeking divine blessing for the offering. Several moments of prayerful waiting follow. 
 

      The bishop stands and grips his crosier. All eyes in the assemblage fasten themselves on this man exuding a holy calm; all ears are tuned to hear the awaited announcement. 
 

      Finally, the tap of his staff of authority is followed by a deeper silence. The flock in unison gazes at the pure chalice. Then a grand oratorio of praise explodes, reaching the celestial realm. He raises his crosier and approaches the altar. 
 

      One voice, then another, and another exult in awe, "That's his third birdie today." (Jean Lersch, "Worship,"The Door, January-February 1998, 29.) 
 

      Golf-course spirituality is nothing to snicker at, since, believe it or not, life on the links can keep our souls in balance and bring us closer to God.

      In our Gospel this morning, could it be that Jesus was getting stressed just a bit stressed out?  Having a Maalox moment?   To continue the golfing imagery, perhaps even a mulligan moment?

      Consider what is happening: In one day, Jesus is teaching in the synagogue, healing Peter's mother-in-law, healing the sick, and casting out demons. Pushing through the crowds; more healing, more casting out of demons.  There are the huge crowds. The city, the smells, the demands and the unrelenting noise of it all.

      So, the next morning, while it is still dark, Jesus tries to quietly slip out of the city to find some solitude in a "deserted place."  It was what he needed to do. And it is what thousands of people do, more often than not, on a Sunday morning when they go out with a bag of clubs and play a round of golf.

      When Jesus went to a "deserted place,” he prayed. That's not what most golfers do when they set up on the first tee, unless it is a prayer concerning their slice. And there is no way the experience of golf can be equated with a deeply spiritual, mystical experience.   I don’t care what a golfer will tell you, there just isn’t.  But there are some lessons for our spiritual lives to be learned from both Jesus' escape to a quiet place, and a golfer's drive to the green.

      These are lessons which have already been noted by a number of people, Lee Trevino, for starters. He may be known more for his swing than for his spirituality, but he grasps something significant that Christians everywhere ought to consider: "There are two things you can do with your head down,” he said, “play golf and pray."  (The Golfer's Tee Time Devotional [Tulsa, Okla.: Honor Books, 1997], 79).

      Let the golfers among us say, "Amen!"  Certainly the faithful on the fairways this morning would like their putting to count as prayer. But before we scoff at their spiritualized slicing and chuckle at their Christianized chip shots, consider this radical proposal: Golf can be spiritually therapeutic, and as a game, it can offer some significant insights into how God wants us to live.

      The hackers hitting the links on a Sunday morning could be doing the very same. Millions of Americans suit up for golf every Sunday morning, while millions more are suiting up for church, and apparently they find three hours on the golf course to be more satisfying and intriguing than one hour in the pew. What's the draw here? Perhaps this weekly ritual is its own kind of "sanctuary."  Golfers may be savoring a form of spiritual growth that we pew-sitters struggle to attain in the course of our standard Sunday service.

      No, this is not a joke, nor is it a setup for a sarcastic slam against "golf-course spirituality"? Nothing of the sort. Golf can teach us a great deal about life – in fact, psychiatrist M. Scott Peck argues that golf is "life condensed," a game that contains many spiritual and emotional challenges in a small amount of time and space. People persistently line up to shell out big dollars for the raging golf phenomenon because, quite frankly, it's good for their souls. Not great for their wallets ... or even their moods ... but for their souls.

      In his book Golf and the Spirit: Lessons for the Journey (New York: Harmony Books, 1999), Scott Peck asserts that golf – next to marriage and parenthood – can be one of the greatest of life's learning opportunities. As a psychiatrist and a Christian, he knows firsthand that we are willful creatures living in a world that doesn't often behave the way we WANT it to – much like a golf swing. He also senses that how we deal with the hazards of life is quite similar to how a golfer deals with the hazards of a golf course (61).

      For example, golf is the finest possible training ground for humility. No, I take that back: It's the best training ground for humiliation.  If you've ever picked up a club, you know that this is the Truth with a capital T – it's not for nothing that golf is called "the weekly humiliation."  Golf is a game that pushes players to attain perfection in driving, pitching and putting – a goal that is clearly unattainable for human beings. Even Tiger Woods has been known to hit some ugly, awful, embarrassing and just plain bad shots.

      And the hole that lures every golfer across hundreds of yards of grass is properly named, insists "While I don't enjoy being humiliated,” he confesses, "I do need it.” It's a part of spiritual growth. He links this daily dying experience to the Christian discipline of kenosis, which means "self-emptying."   In kenosis, we are challenged to get out of our own way and empty ourselves of anger, self-centeredness and false hopes. To be specific, Peck preaches:

• Be attentive to the hazards ahead of you, but empty yourself of your fear of them.
• Strive to do your best, but empty yourself of your concern with your score.
• Learn from every mistake, but empty yourself of any shred of self-hatred for your imperfections.
• Compete, but empty yourself of shame that you are not measuring up.
• Play to win, but if you fail to do so, empty yourself of any remorse (283-284).
• Use your mulligan.
• Take an unplayable lie.
• Play one hole at a time.

      These are some very helpful tips for the game of life, as well as for the game of golf. We are healthiest in spirit when we are as humble as Jesus, the one who emptied himself for the sake of all humankind.

      Golf also convinces us of the inescapable necessity of teachers. Whether we admit it or not, we all need help with our game and we should welcome the friends, mentors and teaching pros that God sends our way when we need them. Mentoring is an especially fruitful form of guidance because it carries with it a form of unconditional love – when a mentor reaches out to us, we are accepted as we are and are empowered rather than simply instructed (24).

      Getting away to a "deserted place" can keep our lives in balance and bring us closer to God. In such a place, whether it is on the golf course, the lake or the backyard patio, we can be reminded to live in the tension of life – the tension between our yearning for perfection on the one hand and our tendency toward imperfection on the other (61). But golf especially can help us to empty ourselves, remembering that the point of self-emptying is not to diminish ourselves, but to make room within ourselves for something new and unexpected and life-enhancing and divine. This, by the way, is a good thought to consider as we approach our observance of Lent in less than three weeks’ time.

      Scott Peck admits that he used to be enraged at himself for failing to be perfect, on the golf course and everywhere else. But one day he had an experience on the golf course that opened his mind to new possibilities. "I was paired as a twosome with a man my own age," he recalls. "He was a top-ranking executive of a golf products corporation and, befitting his profession, a superb golfer with a single-digit handicap. He was also a gentleman, literally as well as metaphorically. He was a gentle person, and therefore one I was unusually open to learn from. He taught me several worthwhile things about golf that day, but the most valuable was on the 15th hole, when he noticed that I was depressed after a triple bogey on the previous hole and, as a result, continuing to play poorly. 'You know,' he commented mildly, 'we have an expression in golf: "One hole at a time"'"(225).

      At that moment a light bulb went on for Peck. Of course! Just like the famed Alcoholics Anonymous slogan, "One day at a time,” it had to be true that the way to approach golf was "one hole at a time."  In other words, don't become obsessed with the past. Don't become paralyzed by concerns about perfection or imperfection. Forgive yourself. Unburden yourself. Love your imperfect self in the same way that God loves your imperfect self. Play the game of life one hole at a time.

      If we would only do this, we will soon discover that golf and life together are a spiritual journey, an adventure that involves emotional turmoil, deep learning, inner change and the emptying of old patterns so that new ones can be added. Golf breaks us down like a prayer of confession and builds us up like an assurance of forgiveness. Well-hit shots can send our spirits soaring like a song of praise, and a successful putt can give us the deep satisfaction of a silent prayer. A difficult lie of the ball can challenge us like a provocative sermon, and the compliment of a golfing partner can cheer us like the passing of the peace.  Most of all, the game reveals our weaknesses along with our strengths, and reminds us of our rightful place in the world that God has created. "Golf is like God," suggests Peck. "It's bigger than you"(81).

      If this message inspires you to play golf – wonderful. The game can be a soul-stretching spiritual discipline, bringing you sometimes closer to heaven, and sometimes to your knees. But when golf is doing the job God wants it to, it shouldn't consume your every Sunday morning.  Instead, it should train you to keep your head down for praying as well as for playing, and lead you back to church for the public worship of God.

      Let us pray:

Now I lay me down to sleep  
Beneath the setting sun;  
I pray the Lord that He will  
Let me get a hole in one.  
And if I die before I wake  
I pray my clubs He'll let me take!  Amen. 
 

Sources:

Prayers of our Hearts, in Word and Action, Vienna Cobb Anderson, Crossroads Publishing, New York, 1991.

Jean Lersch, "Worship," The Door, January-February 1998.

The Golfer's Tee Time Devotional, Tulsa, Okla.: Honor Books, 1997.

Golf and the Spirit: Lessons for the Journey, F. Scott Peck New York: Harmony Books, 1999.