“Good shootin’ tonight, Don!” Four simple words that carried so much meaning yet, I doubt the one who spoke them had any idea how they had struck home in my heart. He was just making an observation but, oh that observation meant so much in my ears! I play in a Thursday evening men’s golf league at White Oak Golf Course in Marissa, Illinois. The league itself is a ‘handicap league’, in which each golfer’s overall handicap is figured in as they play against the other golfers in the league. The worse you play, the higher your handicap. The best golfers have very low or no handicap. If a less skilled golfer such as myself plays against a ‘scratch’ or low handicap golfer, the better golfer will have to best the difference in strokes between he and I to win the match. I will not tell you the handicap I carry, but suffice it to say the standing joke throughout the league for many of us is that our real handicap is the fact that we carry golf clubs onto the course. Many a scratch golfer has winced to find that they have been paired with me . . . and I just laugh because, though I will never know their discomfort in having to overachieve at the game just to defeat their opponent, I love being the underdog at whatever I do . . . and the look on their faces is priceless. Eat your heart out, MasterCard! The league is overseen by one of our better golfers, Jay Lehman, whose laughter is infectious and whose game is nearly always steady and true. In full transparency, Jay is a distant cousin of mine, but please don’t hold that against him. He is a good guy, a great golfer and a decent human being, treating others around him as he would want to be treated (that somehow almost seems Biblical!). To say that I really appreciate Jay and his gifts would be an understatement. Just as I was getting ready to head back to Lebanon for the evening and was saying my farewells to the gathered group, Jay spoke those fateful words, “Good shootin’ tonight, Don!” To be complimented by Jay is a gift in and of itself, but to be complimented in front of the rest of the golfers, many of whom know my real capacity to play golf, was a blessing from heaven. Humbled by his words, I quietly thanked him and mumbled something about ‘every once in a while the blind hog finds the acorn’, then took my leave with Jay’s words resonating in my ears. An incredible feeling. I had shot a 38 on a par 36 course, which may not mean much to you, but is a major achievement for me. Most of the time I score much higher mainly because, as I said earlier, my greatest handicap is my choice of clubs and the manner in which I swing them throughout the match. Tonight it had all come together. I am still a long way from being a scratch golfer, yet tonight I was allowed to sip the nectar of victory, even scoring a skin on one of the holes with a chip-in birdie. Heaven, for a moment. Which started me thinking about precisely that: Heaven. The Biblical phrase is, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant . . . .” (Matt. 25.23) Perhaps this evening I was allowed a foretaste of what it is like to arrive in the presence of the Lord, having persevered through all that is life itself and the ministry to which I have been called. Perhaps tonight I was blessed to imagine for a moment hearing the Lord say, “Good shootin’, Don”, about my life and faithfulness, not that I was ever able to achieve the perfect game, but that I was tenacious about trying every time I was on the course. Perhaps tonight I was allowed the glow of redemption, the joy of victory, the wonder of peace in having ever swung the clubs of my life in such a way that the game itself, though not brought to its knees by my effort, was certainly cognizant that my feet had trod the course of its being. Perhaps . . . this was Heaven, for a moment. I had never pondered the possibility of Jay Lehman’s voice being that of God but, then, who would ever have considered Morgan Freeman as God? That is, until he played the part, twice, in movies? No, I know Jay isn’t God and, yes, I know that his words aren’t the announcement of the coming Kingdom, yet . . . thanks for noticing, Jay. I pray the Good Lord notices, as well, in all that matters in His creation – and in all that I am or ever will be. “Good shootin’ tonight, Don!” . . . I must confess I liked the sound of that. Now, to live in such a manner that, someday, I may hear it from your lips, O Lord.
Posted on: Fri, 25 Jul 2014 15:01:26 +0000
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