Let the heavens rejoice, and let the earth be glad; let the sea roar and the fulness thereof. Let the field be joyful and all that is therein. (Psalm 96:11-12, KJV)
I am sad today because I am supposed to be on a plane headed to Scotland. Tomorrow, I should be on the first tee at Royal Dornoch for my 7:42 AM tee time.
Like a boy in middle school love, I was smitten by links golf almost 40 years ago. Admittedly, she doesn’t love me back the way I love her, but still, I keep going back. Every year.
The focal point of the village of Dornoch is a famous cathedral, built in the 13th Century. Inside, a plaque recites Psalm 96:11-12, acknowledgement that God loves links golf even more than I do. I was inspired recently to write a poem to describe the spiritual experience of walking the links. God is there. But you must look for him. Look Up to the Heavens, Look Down to the Earth, Look Out to the Sea, and Look In to your Soul.
“Let the heavens be glad” (Look Up)
The views of the firth are so glorious
The clouds always moving in a beautiful disorder The direction of wind always different
The portraits so awesomely changing
The shadows mean the sun is still there
The moon shines so bright on the back nine
“Let the earth rejoice” (Look Down)
The colors of green seem endless
The ground that we walk brings energy
The bounce of the ball lasts forever
The putts that we hole bring such joy
The balls that we lose seem so happy
The earth is the judge of a shot’s real worth
“Let the sea roar, and all that fills it” (Look Out)
The smell of the sea invigorates the soul
The sounds of the sea are a symphony
The beach wants the ball when the wind is just right The seagulls fly low like old vultures
The senses are all tuned to water’s beauty
The scenes of the sea paint a picture
The straight ball is not to be seen
The distance means nothing to clubbing The score only matters in match play The bunkers eat balls like they’re hungry The rain suit is baggy but perfect
The ghosts of the past ever present
Indeed God himself judges the earth called links golf. And he says, “It is good.” Since the land was not suitable for crops or food or production or buildings, it is only suitable for play. Or rabbits perhaps or dogs on a walk. Or golf—a game where the ball must bounce and a rabbit hole is the proper home for that ball.
There’s more. In golf, pure righteousness and truth can be found. The player himself does not decide the outcome. The results are resolved by the earth itself, by the field of play, by the wind and the bounces, and the eyes of a caddie who finds a ball that should have been lost. Ultimate truth is not a number on a scorecard. It is the exhilaration of a six-mile walk interrupted by a few swings, a few strokes, and the fresh air through the nostrils and lungs creating joy all the way to the feet walking the firm ground.
This land was not made for crops. It was made for joy. So, look up, look down, look out, look in. Look for him. Look for joy.