The temperature was somewhere between 104 and 107 degrees, (but it was “desert heat” as they say – like that’s supposed to make it seem cooler) and I had about three hours between seminar sessions to find something fun to do in Phoenix, Arizona. Since I already had my golf clubs in the rental car I thought “what the heck, I’ll try and find somewhere to knock a few balls around.” With a little bit of help I quickly found a small municipal course just minutes away from the downtown convention area. It was a small, tight looking course as most inner city courses are but it was just the thing for someone dumb enough to be outdoors in this sweltering heat wave.
As I paid for nine holes and a pull cart the excitement grew. I just knew that I was going to tear up this little sand-filled, simple layout of a course. Who knows maybe even set the course record to amaze the local hackers for years to come. Immortality lied just beyond the horizon of the first tee, and it was my destiny. I just knew it! After all I was a lean, mean, twenty-five year old golfing machine who had a mere two weeks earlier won a long drive contest in Nashville, Tennessee with a whopping 308 yard killer hit, (which with today’s new technology and physically conditioned golfers wouldn’t even draw a second glance from the onlookers) but in 1986 it was impressive. But, have you ever noticed how quickly problems usually follow right behind pride?
I boldly strutted up to the first tee only to find three guys that looked to be about four hundred years old. You remember how it was when you were twenty-five or so, everyone looked old – real old, like forty or four hundred or something. They were dressed in - (get this) polyester pants, and long-sleeved white button-down collared dress shirts. Hello McFly, did I not mention it was a balmy 107 degrees here at The Surface of the Sun Golf Resort? I started sweating even more just from shaking hands with these old farts. The problem grew even more obvious when I looked around to see almost every fairway filled with these fragile looking geriatric golfers and their white shirts, antique carts, and golf-bags with about three clubs in each of them.
Join them? I guess I really had no other choice other than trying to squeeze a cash refund from the lady in the clubhouse and then head back out for three hours of nothing. So join them I did! I immediately began to think that there was no way that I was going to be able to play nine holes in two and a half hours (which would normally take about an hour and twenty minutes for me back home) but I decided I would do my best to drag the old-timers around as fast as possible, even at the risk of one or the more of us having a stroke, or heart attack.
Since I was the “guest” they decided I could tee off first, which I greatly obliged them with a smashing drive that went much further than their failing eyesight could capture. They applauded and were amazed, and quickly I was back to thinking about how great of a golfer I was and not all that “other stuff.” That was until the three of them got up and hit their balls off the tee; oh lets say about two hundred yards – “combined” that is! Yikes! This was going to drive me crazy!!!! They didn’t seem to be the least bit embarrassed as we walked from the tee box to the nearest ball, which normally wouldn’t have taken me very long except I was trying to be polite by walking at the same sail-like pace that they were running at. All the while though, all they wanted to talk about was how far I hit the ball, and what power I possessed. So I figured I could slow down my gait enough to walk with these wise old gentlemen as long as I was going to be the subject of conversation.
They each hit their next couple of shots and then we finally got to my ball. All three came over to inspect it, as if they expected the cover to be ripped from it after such a powerful display of golf mastery. I hit my next shot and missed the green, then it took a couple of more shots but I quickly holed out my par putt and walked from the green with a mixture of disappointment and a sense of accomplishment - which pars often leave you with after such a great drive. To my surprise two of the three older gents recorded pars also. Then I began to get a little suspicious of their ability to honestly count all of their strokes, so I figured I had better pay a little more attention to how many times they tapped the ball down the fairway. After all, nothing bothered me more at that time than to have someone pencil-whip me in a game of golf for which I had clearly mastered the art of, or at least I thought I had.
The next hole was almost a replay of the previous – I smashed a 300 yard drive and they rolled the ball off the tee box. They clapped, and praised me, I smiled and gloated – but this time I was watching them with an eagle’s eye though. They hit, hit, hit the ball down the middle of the fairway and on to the green, and I again botched a pitch shot, and then hammered out another par. Not birdie, or eagle - but par (and for those that don’t know the game, “par” is the expected score – nothing really good or really bad – just “expected”).
Quick golf scoring tip here: The lower the score the better.
birdie = (one stroke better than par) really good
eagle = (two shots better than par) outstanding
bogie = (one shot over par) and a typical score for the average golfer
double bogey = (two strokes worse than par)
par = simply put is the score that is expected for each hole
So anyway, guess what the three dudes from the nineteenth century had? That’s right “par” – par, as in just like my score. Two holes in and three of us were tied, and the other one was only one stroke behind. Now, I was honestly getting ticked! On the next tee box I really unloaded on one, but it strayed over to another fairway. Still they applauded and marveled at my hitting power, but now it was simply beginning to get on my last nerve. I walked over to my ball leaving them to do what they always did, walk too slow, hit the ball too short a distance, and then repeat this action, and then repeat it again. We all got to the hole about the same time, and again with the same score. The next hole was way too much of the same, and by the next tee box I was so distracted by all of their clapping, smiling, niceness, and tap,tap,tap pars that I couldn’t concentrate on my golf game any longer and I began putting together a string of bogies that blew any chance of shooting a low score. All the while they consistently played their game at their pace, and in a way that they knew would bring about a successful round of golf. After all, they had been doing this for almost a century now – they truly possessed the secret to this game.
Mercifully the nine holes ended and when the dust cleared and the score cards were tallied I came out on top, well that would have been the case if golf was like other games where the high score wins – but it’s not! I couldn’t believe that I had “let” three old wrinkled up, back-slapping, denture smiling, shoe leather looking dudes with starched shirts and wood-shafted putters kick my big ol trash-talking, hard-hitting, way too full-of-myself butt all over this tiny little inner city course in 107 degree weather. I was drained mentally, physically, but mostly my ego was devastated!!! I crawled back into the Avis-mobile and headed over to the convention center all the while swearing an oath to myself that this story would never be told.
It took many, many weeks for the golf lesson that took place on that hot summer day to sink in, and many, many more years for the life-lesson to take hold. Consistency! Come to find out, “consistency” is what it’s all about! Consistency, which should not be translated as “regimented” is the key to success, but not just in golf, yet in all things, in relationships, praise, work, worship, child-rearing, prayer-life, housework, thankfulness, driving, communication, etc. Consistency is what we look for in others, and what we strive for in ourselves. We stunt our growth as human beings when we “blow it out” for a few years and then don’t have the energy to continue on with what we started. We proudly declare that we are called to a certain ministry, or a lofty place - only for others to find us five years later wollering in the pig- pens of life. All that’s expected is ‘par’ yet we struggle with our own version of the game, and not His and end up with a card full of bogies, double bogies, a birdie every now and then, and an occasional eagle – when all that is expected is par.
Consistency! If you’ve been on-line with these writings since the beginning then you know that this week’s journal item is the thirty-sixth week in a row that I’ve forwarded one to you. Thirty-six, when I told God there was no way that I could do it for more than four to five weeks before I would run out of things to write about. He agreed, and then He took the time to show me how it wasn’t about me, or what I wanted to write about. Thank God, I don’t have to come up with these subjects, or try and fit them into some type of “lesson” about whatever. God is consistent, if He is nothing else. He is truly the same, yesterday, today, and forever more. His promises to His people of yesteryear are still available for His people today. His covenant is still intact, and He consistently pleads for all to come unto Him. Consistency - that is what He both gives and expects from His followers, His believers. Not brightly burning, short-lasting candles, but virgins with their lamps filled, and their wicks trimmed awaiting their groom’s arrival. Consistency – the question then becomes “How do we measure up when this becomes the standard?” Now that’s a tough one to answer for some of us – for me.
Thanks to an unusual “golf” lesson provided by three guys in their eighties, way back in the Eighties which God brought back into my mind this morning I am reminded of the life-lesson He wanted to teach me today – consistency and its importance. doug
As I paid for nine holes and a pull cart the excitement grew. I just knew that I was going to tear up this little sand-filled, simple layout of a course. Who knows maybe even set the course record to amaze the local hackers for years to come. Immortality lied just beyond the horizon of the first tee, and it was my destiny. I just knew it! After all I was a lean, mean, twenty-five year old golfing machine who had a mere two weeks earlier won a long drive contest in Nashville, Tennessee with a whopping 308 yard killer hit, (which with today’s new technology and physically conditioned golfers wouldn’t even draw a second glance from the onlookers) but in 1986 it was impressive. But, have you ever noticed how quickly problems usually follow right behind pride?
I boldly strutted up to the first tee only to find three guys that looked to be about four hundred years old. You remember how it was when you were twenty-five or so, everyone looked old – real old, like forty or four hundred or something. They were dressed in - (get this) polyester pants, and long-sleeved white button-down collared dress shirts. Hello McFly, did I not mention it was a balmy 107 degrees here at The Surface of the Sun Golf Resort? I started sweating even more just from shaking hands with these old farts. The problem grew even more obvious when I looked around to see almost every fairway filled with these fragile looking geriatric golfers and their white shirts, antique carts, and golf-bags with about three clubs in each of them.
Join them? I guess I really had no other choice other than trying to squeeze a cash refund from the lady in the clubhouse and then head back out for three hours of nothing. So join them I did! I immediately began to think that there was no way that I was going to be able to play nine holes in two and a half hours (which would normally take about an hour and twenty minutes for me back home) but I decided I would do my best to drag the old-timers around as fast as possible, even at the risk of one or the more of us having a stroke, or heart attack.
Since I was the “guest” they decided I could tee off first, which I greatly obliged them with a smashing drive that went much further than their failing eyesight could capture. They applauded and were amazed, and quickly I was back to thinking about how great of a golfer I was and not all that “other stuff.” That was until the three of them got up and hit their balls off the tee; oh lets say about two hundred yards – “combined” that is! Yikes! This was going to drive me crazy!!!! They didn’t seem to be the least bit embarrassed as we walked from the tee box to the nearest ball, which normally wouldn’t have taken me very long except I was trying to be polite by walking at the same sail-like pace that they were running at. All the while though, all they wanted to talk about was how far I hit the ball, and what power I possessed. So I figured I could slow down my gait enough to walk with these wise old gentlemen as long as I was going to be the subject of conversation.
They each hit their next couple of shots and then we finally got to my ball. All three came over to inspect it, as if they expected the cover to be ripped from it after such a powerful display of golf mastery. I hit my next shot and missed the green, then it took a couple of more shots but I quickly holed out my par putt and walked from the green with a mixture of disappointment and a sense of accomplishment - which pars often leave you with after such a great drive. To my surprise two of the three older gents recorded pars also. Then I began to get a little suspicious of their ability to honestly count all of their strokes, so I figured I had better pay a little more attention to how many times they tapped the ball down the fairway. After all, nothing bothered me more at that time than to have someone pencil-whip me in a game of golf for which I had clearly mastered the art of, or at least I thought I had.
The next hole was almost a replay of the previous – I smashed a 300 yard drive and they rolled the ball off the tee box. They clapped, and praised me, I smiled and gloated – but this time I was watching them with an eagle’s eye though. They hit, hit, hit the ball down the middle of the fairway and on to the green, and I again botched a pitch shot, and then hammered out another par. Not birdie, or eagle - but par (and for those that don’t know the game, “par” is the expected score – nothing really good or really bad – just “expected”).
Quick golf scoring tip here: The lower the score the better.
birdie = (one stroke better than par) really good
eagle = (two shots better than par) outstanding
bogie = (one shot over par) and a typical score for the average golfer
double bogey = (two strokes worse than par)
par = simply put is the score that is expected for each hole
So anyway, guess what the three dudes from the nineteenth century had? That’s right “par” – par, as in just like my score. Two holes in and three of us were tied, and the other one was only one stroke behind. Now, I was honestly getting ticked! On the next tee box I really unloaded on one, but it strayed over to another fairway. Still they applauded and marveled at my hitting power, but now it was simply beginning to get on my last nerve. I walked over to my ball leaving them to do what they always did, walk too slow, hit the ball too short a distance, and then repeat this action, and then repeat it again. We all got to the hole about the same time, and again with the same score. The next hole was way too much of the same, and by the next tee box I was so distracted by all of their clapping, smiling, niceness, and tap,tap,tap pars that I couldn’t concentrate on my golf game any longer and I began putting together a string of bogies that blew any chance of shooting a low score. All the while they consistently played their game at their pace, and in a way that they knew would bring about a successful round of golf. After all, they had been doing this for almost a century now – they truly possessed the secret to this game.
Mercifully the nine holes ended and when the dust cleared and the score cards were tallied I came out on top, well that would have been the case if golf was like other games where the high score wins – but it’s not! I couldn’t believe that I had “let” three old wrinkled up, back-slapping, denture smiling, shoe leather looking dudes with starched shirts and wood-shafted putters kick my big ol trash-talking, hard-hitting, way too full-of-myself butt all over this tiny little inner city course in 107 degree weather. I was drained mentally, physically, but mostly my ego was devastated!!! I crawled back into the Avis-mobile and headed over to the convention center all the while swearing an oath to myself that this story would never be told.
It took many, many weeks for the golf lesson that took place on that hot summer day to sink in, and many, many more years for the life-lesson to take hold. Consistency! Come to find out, “consistency” is what it’s all about! Consistency, which should not be translated as “regimented” is the key to success, but not just in golf, yet in all things, in relationships, praise, work, worship, child-rearing, prayer-life, housework, thankfulness, driving, communication, etc. Consistency is what we look for in others, and what we strive for in ourselves. We stunt our growth as human beings when we “blow it out” for a few years and then don’t have the energy to continue on with what we started. We proudly declare that we are called to a certain ministry, or a lofty place - only for others to find us five years later wollering in the pig- pens of life. All that’s expected is ‘par’ yet we struggle with our own version of the game, and not His and end up with a card full of bogies, double bogies, a birdie every now and then, and an occasional eagle – when all that is expected is par.
Consistency! If you’ve been on-line with these writings since the beginning then you know that this week’s journal item is the thirty-sixth week in a row that I’ve forwarded one to you. Thirty-six, when I told God there was no way that I could do it for more than four to five weeks before I would run out of things to write about. He agreed, and then He took the time to show me how it wasn’t about me, or what I wanted to write about. Thank God, I don’t have to come up with these subjects, or try and fit them into some type of “lesson” about whatever. God is consistent, if He is nothing else. He is truly the same, yesterday, today, and forever more. His promises to His people of yesteryear are still available for His people today. His covenant is still intact, and He consistently pleads for all to come unto Him. Consistency - that is what He both gives and expects from His followers, His believers. Not brightly burning, short-lasting candles, but virgins with their lamps filled, and their wicks trimmed awaiting their groom’s arrival. Consistency – the question then becomes “How do we measure up when this becomes the standard?” Now that’s a tough one to answer for some of us – for me.
Thanks to an unusual “golf” lesson provided by three guys in their eighties, way back in the Eighties which God brought back into my mind this morning I am reminded of the life-lesson He wanted to teach me today – consistency and its importance. doug
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