Around the World

For God so loved the world…” (John 3:16, KJV)

I love the Olympics! As I watched the action night and day for two weeks, I discovered I am not as patriotic an American as I thought.

Gold medalist Xander Schauffele’s hat said “USA,” but his father is German and his mother is Chinese but grew up in Japan. If you pull for Xander, that means you are rooting for Germany, Chinese Taipei, Japan, and the USA, all in one.

Then Rory shoots 61 to grab silver. No, not that Rory. You know, the Slovakian guy (smile). That wily veteran Rory Sabbatini had no chance to make his South African team, so he found a Slovakian bride and bingo, he has a silver medal. And don’t forget the epic playoff for third place among seven countries.

Then the women! Nelly Korda wins for USA, but you know the story. Her parents were tennis stars for Czechoslovakia. Japan celebrated silver with a wonderful young woman, Mone Inami, named for a French painter. Lydia Ko won bronze for both New Zealand and her Korean family.

And even though China is America’s main political rival, I find myself pulling for Shanshan Feng every time. Her smile makes me smile.

My new favorite golfer is Aditi Ashok from Bangalore, India, ranked No. 200 in the world. She missed the medal podium by one inch, despite being dead last in driving distance. Or even better: her teammate Diksha Dagar, who is hearing impaired, finished T50. I love those ladies.

Beyond the golf, two Indonesian women made me want to buy a badminton set after they won the gold. An amazing woman from Brazil swam six miles in the open sea, and I was so exhausted watching her that I nearly drowned sitting on my couch. I was all-in with all the Africans, especially the Nigerian table tennis player.

And I was always pulling for Japan, the host nation. I loved it when the Japanese hit a walk-off homer against the USA in baseball and beat the softball Americans for gold. I almost cried watching an intense Tokyo girl lose the gold in kata, a sport I had never even heard of until five minutes before she lost. I hated watching Matsuyama miss those putts at the end.

So why this love affair with the ‘world’? I think it goes back to my days in vacation Bible school. This song we sang there makes me old-fashioned, I know, but do you remember this tune?

Jesus loves the little children
All the children of the world…
Jesus loves the little children of the world.

Are you humming along?  If you have never heard the song, google it. The little tune will stick in your head like butter on a hot roll.

The Olympics reminds us that Jesus loves everyone in this world. No one is forgotten.

Jesus loves those Indonesian badminton girls just like the American stars wearing crosses.

And don’t forget, Jesus came mostly for the losers, the quitters, the injured, the brokenhearted. He really loves the people who dreamed of making it to the Olympics but came up a little short, like my javelin-throwing friend Dana Pounds, who once missed her Olympic dream by half an inch. The stories of the winners in Tokyo are amazing, but even better are the stories of all the losers, mostly unknown.

Jesus loves them all. All the children of the world. Click here to see one of my young friends from India with her amen to this message.

The Name

Therefore, God elevated him to the place of highest honor and gave him the name above all names, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue declare that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. (Philippians 2:9-11, NLT)

Recently a dear friend called to chat. It did not take long to get to the point of his call. He tried to be humble, but pride was oozing from the phone. He had received an invitation to play Augusta National Golf Club.

He will fly on a private jet to Augusta for an overnight and 36 holes. He expected me to be happy for him. I tried. I really did.

Naturally, I responded with, “How did you get on?”

The answer was simple. He spoke the name of a member.

I was reminded of a trip to New Jersey many years ago. I wanted to just quickly visit Pine Valley, perhaps buy something from the pro shop. I drove up to the gate. The gate attendant politely asked, “Are you here with a member?”

“No, sir. I just wanted to look around.”

“I am sorry, sir. Members and guests only,” he said with a smile. I needed a name.

Shortly thereafter, I arrived at Muirfield Village in Ohio. At the gate, I simply said, “I am here with Ivor Young.” The gates swung wide open without a blink. I had the right name. Ivor was a founding member and a dear friend of Jack Nicklaus.

So, what is the point of these stories? I hope you understand that you will need a name at the gates of heaven. That name, of course, is Jesus Christ.

Sadly, many golfers mention his name only after a chunked wedge or another sliced drive.

And just as sad, many people arrive at the gates of heaven with a useless speech about how good they have been on their earthly journey. They mistakenly believe that eternal life is determined by some balancing act of good deeds and bad deeds.

But imagine trying to get onto one of these private courses just because you are “good.” Would you drive down Magnolia Lane and expect to play Augusta National because you are a scratch golfer? They would laugh at you for such absurdity. Likewise, the key to heaven will not be your goodness. It will be a name. The only name. Jesus Christ.

Peter said it clearly. “For Jesus is the one referred to in the Scriptures, where it says, ‘The stone that you builders rejected has now become the cornerstone.’ There is salvation in no one else! God has given no other name under heaven by which we must be saved” (Acts 4:12). All the power of the universe stands behind that name. Our eternal destiny depends upon that name.

Jesus Christ has the “key of David,” which opens the door of heaven. So, “what he opens, no one can close; and what he closes, no one can open” (Revelation 3:7). He holds the key. Don’t forget it.

Living Hope

In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead. (1 Peter 1:3, NIV)

I currently live in three worlds.

First, in my imagination, I live on a mythical island in the Orkneys. I go there every day in my mind as I write a golf novel about the greatest golf course in the world.

Second, my real world is being retired, living at a golf course community in Alabama. My biggest personal challenge some days might be “coming over the top,” or “can’t make a putt,” or “the grooves on my wedges are gone.” I quit golf at least once a week.

This golf world includes hanging with some very lost souls at times. I met such a soul recently on the course. He was drinking Bloody Marys before 9 a.m. while discussing his hangover with great pride. Jesus Christ was mentioned only to describe a chunked wedge on a short par-4.

And then, waiting on a tee, he told me about one of his golf buddies who lost tens of thousands at a Mississippi casino. He delivered the story in such a way that surely this other guy must be what we all aspire to be. After all, he sold his company for millions at age 41 and was rich enough to lose six figures in one night without missing a beat. How great would that be, right?

But as I was hearing his casino story, my third world came crashing into my mind through a text message asking for urgent prayer. It was about the devastation of COVID in India. The text was quite personal, because a ministry partner, age 41, was sick in the hospital with the virus. I first met Joel when he was nine years old. Now a sold-out 24/7 missionary, he was giving himself every day to help destitute and desperate people.

The contrast was so vivid. Joel has no company to sell for millions. Only millions of souls to be saved. And now he was just one of the multitudes of people sick and suffering in this third world of mine. Our weekly Zoom prayer meetings for India were starting to feel like a futile cause.

So, back to the casino story, I had to say something. With a smile on my face to hide my inner aggravation, I just told my new friend, “What a shame to throw away so much money at a casino when it could do so much good,” and then I mentioned the overwhelming humanitarian needs in India. He stared at me with wonderment, speechless.

I immediately knew this man was more lost in his riches than the poorest of the poor will ever be in their poverty.

Jesus has a bold message in red letters for our country club set: “You say, ‘I am rich. I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing’. But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked” (Revelation 3:17, NLT). And I would add, clueless.

But hopeless? No. God himself has sent some of us as missionaries to these golf environments to speak hope and truth. “Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have” (1 Peter 3:16, NLT).

Sadly, Joel died last week. His wife and kids and fellow workers at Living Hope School for orphans and destitute children are mourning his loss, but it is with living hope, not despair.

God the Threesome

…Jesus took Peter, James and John and led them up a high mountain… (Mark 9:2, NLT)

Many golf interviews include this question: “What three players would you invite to join you for one last round?” Pause for a moment and think about that one before moving on.

I am writing a futuristic golf novel that includes a mountain at the far end of a mythical links course. It is called the Mountain of Threesomes, in homage to the idea that golf is really perfect in many ways in a threesome. The pattern for professional tournaments, college events, and most major amateur tournaments, three seems to be the perfect number to keep play moving.

Indeed, we saw last month that “two are better than one…”, but in golf, a two-ball will often be looking for a third, instinctively knowing that “three are even better than two, for a triple-braided cord is not easily broken” (Ecclesiastes 4:12).

In life situations, three is better than two for many reasons. For one, communication seems easier when three people are in the conversation. It is the basis for most marriage counseling—the simple fact that two people often need a third person to be in the mix. Mediation in court is based on the same principle. Two people in conflict often just need a third party in the room to see the possibilities of agreement.

And even better, when a man and woman love each other, the twosome often becomes a threesome. Their love means a baby comes into the world, making the perfect three-ball.

This was evident two Sundays ago when Rory McIlroy won his 19th PGA tournament. His victory seemed more special because he was actually “three” for the first time. His wife and baby girl were there on Mother’s Day to celebrate with him. He was not alone. Surely the happiest wins on the PGA tour are the ones with a wife and a baby to join the celebration.

But back to my Mountain of Threesomes. They are a diverse mix of golf and Bible history.

Francis Ouimet is joined by Harry Vardon and Ted Ray, forever linked by the US Open at Brookline in 1913. Hogan, Nelson, and Snead are linked by all having been born in 1912. Of course, the modern big three of Palmer, Player, and Nicklaus make an appearance.

Biblical threesomes are even more interesting.

Genesis 18:2-3 recalls a threesome that showed up at Abraham’s tent: “He looked up and noticed three men standing nearby. When he saw them, he ran to meet them and welcomed them, bowing low to the ground.” Many theologians believe this was Jesus making an Old Testament appearance with two unnamed angels. What a threesome!

Ezekiel 14:14 seems to say that Daniel, Noah, and Job was the most righteous threesome of all time.

And of course, it was Peter, James, and John (three special disciples) who were invited to join the threesome of Jesus, Moses, and Elijah on top of a mountain.

There are so many lessons, but for today, just one final thought. Have you comprehended that God himself is a threesome?

Father. Son. Holy Spirit.

And best of all, this Eternal Threesome is calling you into personal relationship.

Imagine the phone call from a heavenly secretary.

“Good morning, Tim. The Holy Trinity—you know, Father, Son and Holy Spirit—are looking for a fourth this evening. Would you like to join them for a quick nine? You can walk and talk with them. And don’t worry, they don’t keep score.”

Who could say no to that invitation?

All Alone

here was a man all alone… (Ecclesiastes 4:7, NIV)

Golf started for me at age 10 when the Little League baseball season ended around July 1 and my mother needed me out of the house. She dropped me off at a par-3 course, where I would play upwards of 100 holes a day with my baseball grip and rental clubs. As I recall, two dollars got me a putter, 9-iron, 7-iron, 5-iron and 3-iron, plus a play-all-day pass. On most days, I played alone.

I can still feel the pencil in my hand, marking down scores for each hole. I fell in love with numbers and the scorecard.

If no one was behind me, I would play a friendly match between two balls. Spalding Dot vs. Titleist in the opening semifinals. Hogan vs. Wilson Staff in the nightcap. No one ever knew the high drama of these matches. The finals became an instant classic in my ten-year-old brain as I lay in bed at night going over the ups and downs of the day.

I loved golf for many reasons. The sweet smell of the spring mowed grass. The feeling in the hands of a well-struck iron. The beauty of a putt evaporating into the hole. Even the possibility of a hole-in-one.

One fine day I smoked a 3-iron to the longest hole, 120 yards, and when the ball disappeared on the green for a hole-in-one, the angels in heaven rejoiced. Or did they?

I was all alone. Did it really happen? Ten-year-old little boys can be notorious liars.

However, by the end of that first summer, the joy of playing golf alone disappeared. It became meaningless with no one to share the experience.

King Solomon knew well that life alone can be meaningless as well:

I saw something meaningless under the sun. There was a man all alone; he had neither son nor brother. There was no end to his toil, yet his eyes were not content with his wealth. “For whom am I toiling,” he asked, “and why am I depriving myself of enjoyment?” This too is meaningless—a miserable business! (Ecclesiastes 4:7-8, NIV)

Even kings know that no matter how much wealth or power we possess, it is misery if we are all alone. Even life’s hole-in-one successes can be depressing when no one is there to share the good times.

But there is a solution. “Two are better than one, for they can help each other succeed” (Ecclesiastes 4:9-10, NLT), Solomon wrote. The idea gets bigger in one of his most well-known proverbs: “As iron sharpens iron, so a friend sharpens a friend” (Proverbs 27:17, NLT).

Golf is the perfect game to build the true friendships we all need. Eighteen holes is only five minutes of actually hitting the golf ball. The four hours is filled with walking (or riding) and talking. All with potential friends, who provide friendly competition or, even better, true companionship. On and off the golf course.

Conversations that start on the course often finish in the clubhouse or in late night phone calls when someone has a crisis. Indeed, friendship is not just to share joy, but also to share sorrow.

Solomon again: “If one person falls, the other can reach out and help. But someone who falls alone is in real trouble” (Ecclesiastes 4:10 NLT).

Friends are for the good times but even more needed in the tough times.

Solomon was right. Two are better than one.

Heart of Wisdom

Seventy years are given to us! Some even live to eighty!… Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. (Psalm 90:10 NLT & 90:12 NKJV)

Psalm 90 tells us that we have 70 years on earth and we should “number our days” if we want a “heart of wisdom.”

I took this literally in 1996. I numbered my days and had 9,108 days left to my 70th birthday. 

That day is today! If Psalm 90 is correct, I have reached the eighteenth green. My scorecard has a lot of bogeys and worse. A few birdies and pars.

By this age, I should have a “heart of wisdom.” But how? 

The Gospel writer says Jesus, at age 12, was in the temple “asking questions” (Luke 2:46). The story finishes by telling us that Jesus “grew in wisdom.” (Luke 2:52). It would be 18 more years before Jesus considered himself ready for mission.

My own experience was that my 20s were a nervous time, not sure what would happen. Then the 30s was a time of busyness, trying to “make it.” The 40s were peak years, with plenty of energy, combined with some limited experience. At halftime of 45, I tried full-time ministry for six years, thinking I should move from success to significance. It didn’t last.

The 50s are interesting because you can feel “old” around the corner. For pro golfers, time to move to the Champions Tour. For amateur golfers, time to move up a tee or two. For me personally, time to go to regular shafts. In real life, the 50s are when we have figured out who we are and what we can do—and it is either a time of great satisfaction or deep disappointment. I found a wonderful purpose in adjudicating family court, helping families in crisis.

Then came the 60s, for me an awesome decade of discovering the love of God in a new and profound way. All leading up to the big 7-0. I can already tell that I am going to love these 70s.

George Heard from Alabama was 70 when we met 30 years ago. I was surprised when I saw this holy Sunday school teacher smoking a cigar. He only did so on the golf course. He told me when you get to be 70, you can do whatever you want on the course—improve your lie in the rough, take mulligans, smoke cigars…whatever!

I loved that and vowed to be like George if I made it to 70. On Saturday, my friend Paul Bell brought me a birthday present, a fancy $30 cigar which I gladly smoked (five days early) while cruising around the course.

I discovered that I am a 22-handicap cigar smoker. After choking and smoking for 18 holes, the smoke helped me remember George and many other older and wiser men in my life. They all had a “heart of wisdom.” They are all gone. They all finished well.

They passed the test, the test of time.

The most essential element of wisdom is time. Time to grow old. Time for sorrow and troubles. Time to learn from sages of the past. Time to heal. Time to remember. 

So, want some advice from someone who is officially old? 

Locate someone at least 20 years older than you to be your mentor. Eat together, play golf together, and listen. Read books and devotionals from people long gone. Lettie Cowman, Oswald Chambers, and E. Stanley Jones are my personal favorites; find yours.

And if you are, like me, one of those older guys, find a younger person who is smart enough to ask a lot of questions. Your 70-plus years have given you a heart of wisdom.

666

Wisdom is needed here. Let the one with understanding solve the meaning of the number of the beast, for it is the number of a man. His number is 666. (Revelation 13:18, NLT)

I loved Henry Longhurst. He was golf correspondent for the London Sunday Times for 45 years. When he died, one writer said that “the old purple-faced whisperer has gone but, joyfully, his old purple prose will live for as long as literate men love games.”

Although Henry was a writer, most of us remember him as a TV commentator. The lovely British accent behind the words from the sixteenth tower at Augusta was Henry’s. He showed reverence for people like Jack Nicklaus, who make 40-foot putts on Sunday. He also was the voice of anguish when Doug Sanders missed the putt on the eighteenth at St. Andrews in 1970. He kept whiskey in the TV tower for such occasions.

My personal favorite Henry moment was when the BBC pulled up a picture of a winner’s scorecard which had seven or so consecutive threes. Henry was breathlessly in love with what his eyes beheld and whispered through the whiskey, “There’s nothing quite so lovely as threes on a card.”

The tone of his voice was what one hears as a beautiful bride walks down the aisle, so I am sure Henry would agree with the flip side of that coin: There’s nothing quite so ugly as sixes on a card. I know because last month I went 6-6-6 to finish the front nine.

I joked to my playing companions, “Don’t touch me. I might be the Antichrist.” Indeed. it makes perfect sense that such an evil man would play golf and make a bevy of sixes. If you are looking for the Antichrist, start with the 36 handicappers at your club.

The term antichrist is a common term for a futuristic personage found in Revelation 13 who may someday rule the world. But this actual name is not found in Revelation. It is only used by John the apostle in his letters.

“You have heard that the Antichrist is coming, and already many such antichrists have appeared” (1 John 2:18). John goes on to explain that “anyone who denies the Father and the Son is an antichrist” (1 John 2:22).

So, instead of a future evil man, let me suggest that the spirit of antichrist is here now.

John agreed with that idea when he went on to clarify that any person who “does not acknowledge the truth about Jesus, that person is not from God. Such a person has the spirit of the Antichrist, which you heard is coming into the world and indeed is already here” (1 John 4:3).

Did John say, “Already here”? Where did he get such an idea? Maybe Jesus himself.

John walked with Jesus for three years. He heard him say, “Anyone who isn’t with me opposes me, and anyone who isn’t working with me is actually working against me” (Matthew 12:30).

Ouch! The Antichrist is not just some scary character in the future. If I am not with Jesus, I am against him. An antichrist can be me.

We should be pro-Jesus. Anything less is anti-Christ. There is no middle ground. Being in the so-called middle may work in some political situations, but not when it comes to Jesus.

Jesus finished his sobering message with this, “The words you say will either acquit you or condemn you” (Matthew 12:37).

Words matter. I often wear a fishhook on my suit lapel. People ask, “Are you a fisherman?” I smile and say, “Jesus said, ‘Follow me and I will make you fishers of men.’” The fishhook gives me a small opportunity to be pro-Jesus, to speak his powerful name. Anything less is 666.

It Is Written

In the beginning was the Word… (John 1:1)

I recently watched the 1968 Masters (I love YouTube).

Though 45 years old, Roberto De Vicenzo shot a wonderful 65. However, a 65 is not a 65 until it is written—signed and attested on a real paper scorecard with a real pencil.

Playing partner Tommy Aaron (who ironically won the Masters five years later) wrote down four on the seventeenth hole, instead of a birdie three, which poor De Vicenzo never noticed. The fictional four turned the round into a 66.

Who could have known that math would be on the final exam at the Masters? Before the tournament, De Vicenzo was no doubt busy working on his short game when he should have been working on fourth grade basics. In his non-native English, Roberto famously said, “What a stupid I am.”

This whole story reminded me of one of Jesus’ favorite phrases: “It is written.”

He fought off the temptations of Satan with “it is written.” He gave his endorsement of John the Baptist with “it is written.” He cleared the temple with “it is written.”

Indeed, on the afternoon of resurrection Sunday, Jesus was on a seven-mile walk (about the same as 18 holes) with two confused disciples. For several hours, he opened their eyes with, “Thus it is written, [for the] Christ to suffer, and to rise from the dead the third day…” (Luke 24:45-46, KJV).

Gospel writers Matthew, Mark, and Luke all started with reference to the idea that what is written really matters. And of course, John takes it even deeper, declaring with a capital ‘W’ that “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God, and the Word was God… and the Word was made flesh” (John 1:1,14, KJV).

Paul’s gospel of Jesus Christ included, “For it is written in the Scriptures, ‘Cursed is everyone who is hung on a tree’” (Galatians 3:13, NLT).

All that these New Testament writers wrote was founded on what others had written. They were readers and writers both. Their reading of the Old Testament undergirded their Holy Spirit-inspired writing of the New Testament.

But what does this mean for you and me? Are we expected to be writers, too? Perhaps you are thinking, I am not a writer. Or even more, I am not a reader. Two minutes of a daily devotional is your limit. Well, the truth is that we are all “writing a letter” of a certain kind. Paul’s words to his friends in Corinth explained it well.

“Your [life] is a letter written in our hearts; everyone can read it and recognize [your] good work among [us]. Clearly, you are a letter from Christ… this letter is written not with pen and ink, but with the Spirit of the living God. It is carved not on tablets of stone, but on human hearts.” (2 Corinthians 3:3, NLT)

Let it be so for all of us reading these words today—a letter written with the Spirit of the living God, a letter written to show that the ancient work of God is still going on in the hearts of men and women today.

Sons of the Most Holy Redeemer

Sirs, what must I do to be saved?” (Acts 16:30, ESV)

In September, Sue and I ferried off for three days to the remote Orkney Islands north of Scotland. We saw all the truly breathtaking sights one should see on a short trip, but by far the most memorable moment was 10 minutes that only God himself could orchestrate.

We wandered one day after lunch to the pier in Kirkwall where ferries depart. We saw no signs of life except two young men dressed in black monk’s garb, having a meager lunch of hummus and crackers.

Conversation was easy when I showed interest in their destination. “We are on the way to Papa Stronsay, an island which our Order bought a few years ago,” one said. “We live there at the Golgotha Monastery. What brings you here?”

“Oh, we’re just tourists, although I am researching for a novel about a golf course on a mythical island in the Orkneys.” They showed me a map of their small island, which is only 180 acres. “Perfect for my golf course,” I offered, which seemed to worry them.

Turns out we were speaking to Father Martin Mary, from Oxford, England, and Brother Edmund Maria, from Kansas City, USA. I wondered to myself if the madness of golf had perhaps driven “Marty and Eddie” to this holy secluded life where double bogeys are long gone.

“So, what is the name of your Order?” Father Martin quickly answered, “Sons of the Most Holy Redeemer.” Without even thinking, I responded, “Me too. I am a son of the Most Holy Redeemer.”

Father Martin seemed puzzled. “Are you Catholic?”

“No, but I did meet Mother Teresa twice on mission trips to India.” He seemed impressed and the door opened for me to share my 1995 story of Mother Teresa’s gospel. Just outside her bedroom in Calcutta, she had told me, “I’m not good.” She then turned her eyes to heaven and softly said, “Jesus.” It was her short version of the gospel. Both padres smiled. Even saints need Jesus.

The conversation with the monks led me to later google the Order. I found out that their day starts with prayer at 3:15 a.m. I also discovered a mission statement that grabbed me:

Remember O Christian soul that time passes quickly and you too must soon die, be judged and enter into your eternity of heaven or hell. You have only one soul to save; that is your chief, nay your only work. For what does it profit you if, by your work, you gain the whole world which must soon end, and lose your immortal soul in an eternity of sufferings that will never end? What exchange can you give for your soul? There is none. At all cost then, save your soul.

I am still pondering the magnitude and directness of this message. It surely must underlie all human thought. It explains religion of all kinds, both true and false. It is a dormant voice in any human who has ever pondered the universe and God and eternity.

I confess, I am not sure how living in a monastery in the Orkneys accomplishes that goal, but I must say, their statement has refocused me on what matters most.

As John Wesley once famously said after his failures in Georgia as a missionary, “I went to America to convert Indians, but oh, who shall convert me?”

So, I have a feeling that Father Martin and Brother Edmund have added Sue and me to their long list of people to pray for at 3:15 a.m., and that is perfectly fine with me.

But I also hear the voice of Mother Teresa when she gave the answer to John Wesley’s question in one simple word, “Jesus.” He alone can save my soul.

Lost Ball in High Weeds

“Rejoice with me because I have found my lost sheep.” (Luke 15:6-7)

One of golf’s great joys is finding a nice golf ball on the course. The flip side of that joy is the extraordinary pain of losing a brand new Pro V1.

It is so unbearable that I never play golf with a new ball. Opening a box of new balls and sailing the perfect white ProV1 off the first tee into the weeds or worse is unthinkable for me. I play only with balls given to me by college players who played nine holes or so with the nugget. Or good balls I have found.

Last Friday, I started with a beautifully used Titleist 4 with a UK logo. Sure enough, a bad swing on the fourth hole sent the ball straight into the jungle guarding the right side. I bid farewell to my lost friend, made a six and moved on. Just another lost ball in the high weeds.

Four days later I was jogging on the same course in the early morning. I decided to wander into the abyss on the fourth hole. Sure enough, my heart leaped with joy when I saw a nice white ball. I soon realized that not only was this a Titleist, it was my Titleist 4 Pro V1.

Oh, the joy! Luke 15 came alive. The story of the lost sheep (Luke 15:3-7), the lost coin (Luke vv. 8-10), and the lost son (Luke 15:11-32) came tumbling through my mind. Rejoice! The prodigal Pro V1 that was lost was now found! And lucky for him, he was not found by some 24-handicapper who would have lost him again in a pond. He was found by his “best friend”—me. I promised him I would never hit him to the right again! I wanted to “kill the fattened calf” and celebrate since the prodigal son was home.

As I returned to my jog, I remembered that the phrase “lost ball in the high weeds” has entered the American jargon. It well describes someone who has lost their way, especially when it comes to spiritual matters.

So my question for today is this. Who in your world is a “lost ball in the high weeds”? Let me first say I hope it’s not you. Is this possible that someone could read this devotional daily but be lost? You have been a success, love golf, and love family, but somehow you’re lost? Success can actually be a barrier to finding eternal life.

Jesus said it squarely, “And what do you benefit if you gain the whole world but are yourself lost...?” (Luke 9:25, NLT).

If you indeed feel like a “lost ball in the high weeds,” do us both a favor and email me. I’d be happy to talk in person.

But even if you are not lost yourself, you surely have friends at your golf club in that category.

So here is a final picture. Jesus is in the weeds with a ball retriever around a mossy bank full of weeds. He is looking for lost balls. He knows they are not really lost. He believes they will be found. The lost coin. The lost sheep. The prodigal son. He has left the 99 other balls safely in the bag. He has gone to seek the one lost ball.

This ball has a name. Who is your “most wanted” lost ball? You probably have already thought of someone. Write his or her name on a card to keep in your wallet. Play golf with them. Rake their bunkers. Give ’em putts. Answer their questions. Pray for them. Be ready for the phone call when they need you the most. And last, be ready to rejoice with them.

“We must celebrate with a feast, for this son of mine was dead and has now returned to life. He was lost, but now he is found” (Luke 15:24).

A Good Question

...since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses...let us run the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus... (Hebrews 12:1-2, RSV)

Do friends or family who have died have any influence on this earth? Can people in heaven effect outcomes in this life? Is there indeed a “cloud of witnesses” who surround us, sort of like angels, helping us in certain times?

There are biblical stories of people appearing from the other side. Moses and Elijah appeared on the Mount of Transfiguration. Samuel returned from the dead in a bizarre story found in 1 Samuel 28. But I am left mostly confused on the question, and I have never heard a satisfactory sermon on the subject.

In 1992, several good things happened to me after my father died. Curious about the connections between heaven and earth, I asked a respected theologian (who had preached his funeral) whether it was possible that my father had anything to do with my good fortune. I expected him to tell me I was silly to think such ridiculous thoughts. Instead, he shocked me with, “I’m not sure why you’d stop being useful just because you’re in heaven.”

Those words have resounded in me as I continue to remember University of Kentucky golfer Cullan Brown, who died way too young on August 4. Many close friends have experienced extraordinary blessings since his death.

For example, Max Mehles was a senior and mentor for Cullan on the Kentucky golf team. On the day of Cullan’s death, Max’s girlfriend, Sophia Popov, received a sponsor’s exemption to play an LPGA event in Ohio. Carrying her own bag with no caddie, ranked 304th in the world, and wearing a blue ribbon in memory of Cullan, she finished tied for ninth, which qualified her for the Women’s British Open. Perhaps you know the rest of the story. Still wearing the blue ribbon for Cullan, Sophia won the Open at Royal Troon on August 23, with Max on the bag. Did Cullan help somehow? I presume not, but honestly, I don’t know.

Then just two weeks ago, Cullan’s roommate Alex Goff carried his friend’s bag in the televised Blessings Collegiate in Arkansas. And sure enough, Alex won his first college tournament. He had never come close to winning a college event. He was ranked near 750th in the amateur golf rankings. Announcers on TV kept saying things like, “Cullan is surely looking down on Alex from above.” Statements like that make me a little nervous, knowing that Golf Channel announcers are not very good theologians. But when it comes to this question, neither am I.

The story ends, for now, with one last question from another former UK teammate. Lukas Euler called me the day after Alex won, happy to report that he just shot a 64 to Monday qualify for his first Korn Ferry tour event. We discussed Cullan and Sophia and Alex. So now Lukas, in his direct German style, asked a question I may never forget: “Do you think it’s possible that Cullan asked God to give his unused talent to his friends?”

I had no good answer for him. I don’t know.

But I do know this. Death and life are Real. These stories of “blessings” are true. Heaven is a real place with real people. And Cullan Brown is now one of the great cloud of witnesses. He is alive! Instead of the Hall of Fame, he has entered the Hall of Faith, found in Hebrews 11. Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, and Moses—and now Cullan!

In the fall of 2018, 18-year-old freshman Cullan wrote a paper for a leadership class. He was writing about a certain leader, but his words are chillingly now his own. Cullan said, “He has a clear view of what he wants to leave behind, which is the love and story of Jesus Christ.” Wow! Cullan has left behind the love and story of Jesus Christ. And a lot of friends.

Walking the Course

“They will walk with me in white, for they are worthy.” (Revelation 3:4, ESV)

The starter and a rainbow met Alexander McDonald and me on the first tee at 7:16 a.m. at Royal Dornoch. It was 55 degrees F, perfect for an early morning walk. The sun was coming up out of the North Sea on our right, creating shadows on the first green that extended across the whole putting surface. We were in no hurry. We just walked. Except for one birdie, we did not keep score. We were back in the clubhouse at 9:55. The walk was better than the golf shots.

Some would argue that there should be no golf without the walk. Scottish author Andrew Greig says in his book Preferred Lies, which I recommend, “Golf is a walking game. The walk between shots is not an interlude, non-golf. If it were, most of a round of golf would be non-golf and a great waste of time.” Like all Scots, he thinks buggies (powered carts) are a major problem.

For golfers, “the journey” is perhaps the best metaphor for the Christian experience. We hear a voice that says “Come, follow me.” And off we go.

Great literature has followed this idea that life is a journey: The Odyssey (Homer), The Wizard of Oz (Baum), The Lord of the Rings trilogy (Tolkien), Gulliver’s Travels (Swift), Pilgrim’s Progress (Bunyan).

The idea of walking with God is all over the Bible. God himself walked in the garden in the cool of the day (Genesis 3:8). Enoch, Noah, and Abraham walked with God (Genesis 5:22−24; 6:9; 17:1). Psalm 1 warns not to walk in the counsel of the wicked. Isaiah heard a voice that said, “This is the way, walk in it” (Isaiah 30:21). Micah told us to walk humbly with God (Micah 6:8).

Jesus showed up on a walk to Emmaus (Luke 24). And when Philip asked Jesus, “How can we know the way?” Jesus made it plain: “I am the way” (John 14:5-6).

Paul exhorted believers to walk in love, walk in the Spirit, walk in the light, walk worthy, walk carefully (Romans 13:13; 14:15; Galatians 5:16; Ephesians 4:1, 17; 5:2, 15; Colossians 1:10; 2:6).

Modern versions of the Bible have often eliminated the walking metaphor. The scholars who translate the Bible have tried to help us by turning walk into live. I have no right to criticize Biblical scholars since I can barely speak English, but these translators probably ride buggies. For me, I still like the idea of walking with God. Walking with God is a lot less pressure than living for God.

Playing with a golf cart, as we Americans do, may be a good picture of how many of us live—hurrying from one church or social event to the next, thinking the only thing that matters is “the shot.” We have missed the quiet and peaceful walk with Jesus. He listens to us. We walk and talk. On my smartest days, I just listen to him.

And I must say, it is also good to walk with another human being who knows you well enough to speak truth. Most people need a confessor, a teacher, a confidante, a mentor, a fellow pilgrim. For many it is your spouse.

Naturally, we hope to stay on the right path on this journey. But wandering off the path is always part of the story. Dante captures it in the opening lines of The Divine Comedy: “Midway along the journey … I woke to find myself in a dark wood, for I had wandered off the straight path…” (Dante may have been an 18-handicap  slicer).

Indeed, note that Jesus never said, “I am the Fairway.” If you follow him, there will be some rough, some bunkers, and worse. Even a cross. Walking with God will not be easy. But it is truly the only way to live.

THIS WORLD ISN'T FAIR

“Everything he does is just and fair.” (Deuteronomy 32:4, NLT)

Wednesday, August 5, 2020. 6 a.m. We awoke to an unusually glorious view over the Links of Brora. The sun was shining. The flags were limp. The North Sea was calm. The birds were chirping. The sea otters were at play. Another day in Scotland’s Paradise.

As my first cup of coffee was brewing, I checked my emails for the Links Players’ devotional. Instead, a Jeff Hopper email simply said, “Sorry to hear that Cullan passed.”

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Cullan Brown

In the snap of a finger, Paradise was gone.

Cullan Brown, age 20, had died. Osteosarcoma, a rare bone cancer, had taken the life of a rising star on the Kentucky golf team. All-SEC Freshman. Made the cut last summer in a PGA Tour event. Shot a 29 on the back nine the first time I ever watched him play. Not to mention a gourmet chef, expert outdoorsman, and 4.0 student. And best of all, he was a Jesus lover. Shortly after he arrived on UK’s campus, he wanted to meet with me for an hour. I soon realized his main purpose was to let me know he and I were on the same page when it came to Jesus.

But now he was gone.

The first news article I could find quoted a former Kentucky player, Chip McDaniel, who tweeted, “This world just isn’t fair.” Amen, Chip.

Thousands of people had prayed. Jack Nicklaus and Bernhard Langer had sent hopeful messages to Cullan. But none of that seemed to matter.

Chip’s tweet sent me to the Bible, looking for the word fair. I could not find the word as we define it 2020. In the King James Version (1611), the NASB (1902) or the RSV (1952), the word fair only meant the color of your skin, or the beauty of a young lady, or maybe the weather.

Only modern Bible versions use the word fair. Such as: “Everything he does is just and fair.” (Deuteronomy 32:4, NLT). Or: “If God were not entirely fair, how would he be qualified to judge the world?” (Romans 3:6, NLT).

The older translations simply say God is Just. God is Righteous. God is Upright. God is Awesome. I suspect that modern translators may have fallen prey to the presumption that God needs to be “fair,” as we understand it.

This Awesome God knew his purpose for Cullan Brown. It was not the PGA Tour.

Instead, the plan of this Righteous God was to plant Cullan, a small mustard seed from Eddyville, Kentucky (population 2,554), in the hearts of thousands.

“The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed.... the smallest of all the seeds, but when it has grown it is the greatest of shrubs and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and make nests in its branches.” (Matthew 13:31, NRSV)

When Cullan was told he had cancer, he never complained that this world isn’t fair, even though it isn’t. That’s because he knew that God is Just, Righteous, Upright, Awesome!

I imagine the scene on August 4, 2020. Jesus embraced Cullan in his new body and said, “I love you so much.” Cullan nodded approval and smiled as Jesus continued, “Your journey on earth seemed short, but my purpose was for you to lay down your life to save others. I just knew you’d be OK with that.” Cullan smiled again and nodded, “Of course, of course.”

I can actually hear Cullan then responding in his unique Kentucky twang, “Jesus, thank you so much. Now though, please just make sure everybody who knows my story knows that you love them, and if they trust in your love, the plan always works out.” Now Jesus smiled. “Of course.”

Perhaps this conversation even happened walking down a fairway. Since Jesus is too smart to play golf, he would be Cullan’s caddie. Jesus loves to caddie for his children.

So, the world is not fair. But God is Just, Right, Upright and Awesome. RIP Cullan.

THE ETERNAL MULLIGAN: The Gospel for Golfers

The Apostle Paul was a golfer. We know this with absolute certainty because he told his young caddie Timothy, “I have finished the course.” (II Timothy 4:11)

But even more obvious, listen to his letter to the Country Club of Rome:

“I do not understand what I do... For what I want to do, I do not do, but what I hate I do. I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. No, the evil I do not want to do, this I keep on doing.” (Romans 7)

Apparently, Paul had a bad slice or hook. Maybe even the yips or shanks. For sure, he was no better than a 24 handicapper.

As for me, being a golfer turned out to be one of life’s great blessings. The game itself helped me to be a better lawyer, a better senator, a better judge, a better friend and even a better husband. Indeed, golf even helped me find eternal life and love. I know that sounds crazy, but please consider the following nine lessons from the game of golf that may change the trajectory of your life.

Read about the 9 lessons

SLUMDOG GOLFER: A Day at Kodaikanal Golf Club

Most days on the golf course are eventually forgotten (thanks be to God), but not a day at Kodaikanal. The course was built originally in 1898. They have pictures from the 1920’s on the wall in the clubhouse and you can feel the ghosts of British colonialism everywhere.

A family of monkeys on the first tee tells you part of this story. A fence around the first green to keep off the wild boars says more. The scorecard told me that we get free drops from “fresh excreta”. This was supposed to make me feel better but did not. Whose “fresh excreta” was not clear to me.

The only way to really describe it is to take you through my day at Kodai, short for Kodaikanal, a resort city in the mountains. I use the word ‘resort’ with reservation.

Download Slumdog Golfer (PDF)

NO MIRACLES

“John didn’t perform miraculous signs,” they remarked to one another, “but everything he said about this man has come true.” (John 10:41, NLT)

Have you ever seen a miraculous golf shot?

Think about some of the Tiger shots. The chip in on the sixteenth hole at the 2005 Masters. If you don’t remember it, Chris DiMarco does. Or Tiger’s famous 6-iron from the fairway bunker on the eighteenth at the 2000 Canadian Open. Ted Scott was Grant Waite’s caddie that day, playing in the same group, and told me the story with awe. Just like he also tells the story of Bubba Watson’s miraculous hooking sand wedge from the woods of Augusta in 2012.

Personally, there are no real miracle shots, unless you count a skanky nine iron, hit low on the face downwind last summer in Scotland, playing with Jeff Hopper. The ball bounced short of the green, kicked dead left and ended up in the hole! Or even better, Jeff’s more legitimate ace three days later on the same Brora course, all with a rainbow to confirm the miracle.

Truthfully, we use the word “miracle” way too loosely around the golf course. In the Bible, the word miracle means the Red Sea opening for Moses, blind Bartimaeus finding his sight, Lazarus raised from the dead, or Jesus walking on the water. Indeed, many people followed Jesus because of his “miraculous signs” (John 6:14). Luke’s account tells us that “God gave Paul the power to perform unusual miracles” (Acts 19:11). So, I am not a doubter in miracles.

But for me personally, life has been woefully short on Bible-quality miracles. It has frankly bothered me that my hands and my prayers have produced “no miraculous signs.” I have tried. I have prayed for healing and miracles for dozens of people, primarily on trips to India. But I have no provable firsthand miracles to report.

If I was a TV preacher in a white suit on a stage, I’d be broke and out of business.

But last week, I found John 10:41. I noticed for the first time that the amazing story of John the Baptist includes no miraculous healings or events. Indeed, as the Scripture plainly says, “John didn’t perform miraculous signs.” The man Jesus said was the greatest man ever (see Matthew 11:11) did no miracles.

For some reason, that gave me hope.
So if this great man John performed no miracles, what did he do?

He pointed people to Jesus. “The next day John saw Jesus coming toward him and said, ‘Look! The Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! He is the one I was talking about’” (John 1:29).

And two years later, the people confirmed that “everything [John] said about [Jesus] came true.” John told the truth about “the Truth.” And what was the result? “Many who were there believed in Jesus” (John 10:42).

What a great testimony this could be someday at your funeral! What if hundreds, or at least family and friends, could all agree that “Grandpa never did any great miracles, but everything he told us about Jesus turned out to be true—we believe because of him”?

Pointing the world to Jesus. That was John’s purpose. And that is a model we can all follow in the workplace, on the golf course, and everywhere we go.

THE DANGEROUS COUCH

“In the spring of the year, the time when kings go forth to battle….” 2 Samuel 11:1a (RSV)

Under the PGA’s new schedule, springtime is when the kings of the golf world ‘go forth to battle’, hoping to win Majors. Except this year, when they were on the couch.

Springtime is supposed to be a gourmet meal of Majors. The Player’s Championship in March is just an appetizer, followed by an exciting ‘green jacket salad’ at Augusta in April. Then the month of May treats us to a scrumptious meaty main course at the PGA Championship, and finally, we finish springtime with a sweet and delicious U.S. Open dessert.

June 21 ends all the springtime fun and the sweltering dog days of summer begin, interrupted only by the umbrellas and sweater weather of the Open Championship somewhere over the ocean near the arctic circle.

Springtime was also when Old Testament kings would “go forth in battle”. The book of 2nd Samuel tells the story of how King David personally led his forces into battle. The boy who defeated Goliath became the quintessential warrior King, leading his army to victory after victory. This was not Arnie’s Army. This was real warfare and David led his troops, winning all the Majors of his day, solidifying his position as the one and only King of all Israel.

But David’s story takes a sad twist. In one of the most convicting passages in the Bible, we hear that the King sent Joab and the troops to battle, “but David remained at Jerusalem.” (2 Samuel 11:1b). He stayed on his couch.

“It happened”. What happened? You know the story. He saw Bathsheba. He sent for Bathsheba. He took Bathsheba. He killed her husband.

But David’s sin did not start when he saw Bathsheba. His sin started when “David remained at Jerusalem.” He made a decision to take comfort on his couch. And as it turned out, the couch was more dangerous than the battlefield!

The King’s place was with his men in battle, not a couch of safety.

So, I confess. Like King David and many of you, I have been on my couch more than the battlefield during this springtime. Sadly, I really like it. I had no idea my couch was so wonderful. I was unaware that Netflix and the Golf Channel were available all afternoon.

But springtime is nearly over. It is time to confront our reality. God has called us for a battlefield, mostly for souls around the golf courses. He has told us to ‘go for it’. But we are now comfortable on the couch, thinking that ‘laying up’ may be safer.  

Many phone calls now end with ‘stay safe’. In other words, stay on your metaphorical couch, ‘lay up’ to be sure all ends well. Avoid all risk.

But now seems like the right time to get off the couch. The couch is not as safe as it looks. In fact, it can be downright dangerous.

The battlefield with God is a safer place than any couch without Him.