I absolutely love finals week. I know that might sound strange to some, but for me it’s a nice reprieve from classes. By the end of the semester, I’m either doing well in the class, or I’m not; so finals usually don’t have a tremendous impact on the outcome of my grade; thus, I have no classes and don’t really need to study. The projects that are due before finals are another story: those stress me out. But since this is my last set of finals, I can slack off and be lazy more than ever (a.k.a. not even crack open the text before I take the exam). My roommates and I have spent the last couple of days lounging by the pool at our apartment and watching tons of movies. It’s been kind of fabulous; I’m not going to lie.
Today, one of my friends, Eric, called me up and asked me to go play golf with him. And of course, since it was finals week, I gladly agreed. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. I’ve gone to the driving range a few times. It’s a fun, albeit frustrating experience. But I knew that this was going to be a different story than just repeatedly swinging fast and completely failing to make contact with the ball. I was going to actually have to get the small ball to head in a
specific direction some 300 yards away using a long stick. That task seems to defy all logic to me. Plus, Eric has been playing golf since he was about 9 months old (give or take a few years), so I was a little nervous that I would be frustrating to play with. But he was wonderfully patient with me and only made fun of me a few times.
I’m sure there have been many metaphors drawn between golf and our relationship with Christ. It seems like it would be a topic that pastors would use in sermons. I don’t know that I’ve ever heard it used, but it just strikes me that way. Anyway, the whole time I couldn’t help but think how much the game of golf reminds me of my relationship with Christ recently.
I am standing on the tee with my ball neatly positioned. I take a few practice swings. Things seem great. I keep my head down during my swing, take a small back swing, and manage to not swing like a gorilla, as Eric liked to call it. Nice and easy. Then I step up to the ball to hit it for real. I go all out. I throw my driver back fast, swing it like a tennis racquet (I can’t help it! That’s all I know), and jerk my head up, all while completely missing the ball. Eric stands there in dismay with a grin on his face as this happens over and over again at each hole. Practice swings=beautiful, real swings=repeated misery for all who watch.
Jesus and all of the “good things” that I am supposed to do are the ball. I took some practice swings at training camp a month ago. I learned how to really pray for people and be completely broken and vulnerable. Each time I swung, I was completely focused. I didn’t jerk my head up and look at what was around me. I just took it nice and easy. My swing looked great. It was so easy there. Then I come back to my life in Indianapolis. I step up to the tee. It’s for real this time. I have to implement everything I spent 7 days learning into practice. And I go nuts. I panic and I seem to forget everything. The gorilla swing emerges. Most notably, I jerk my head in every which direction, looking at everything except the one thing I need to be completely focused on: Jesus. But through grace I get to take another swing. And again and again until I really get it right.
I’m still trying to make full contact and hit a shot that sails straight down the fairway and lands on the green.
