I’m a walker and Maxine is a golfer. One bright summer day, we challenged one another to try each others’ sports. Yup, Maxine and me. Maxine caught on to walking fairly easy – after I talked her out of her robe and slippers and into a fashionable jogging outfit . Then I had to try her sport. I stood knees slightly bent, feet apart, head down, arms straight but relaxed, fingers interlocked around a shaft of a golf club that looked like only half of it survived a land mine explosion, and my eyes fixated on a small, pock-marked ball just like the Golf Pro Tips for Dummies book said I should.
“I have to tell you, Maxine, this stance feels very unnatural.”
“Good! You must be doing it right, sweet thing,” she said, with a nod.
Unlike golf courses in Canada where fat worms come to the surface to breathe and tell jokes, Minnesota golf courses challenge the audacious golfer in the art of survival. It was like taking a trip into the wild kingdom that was complete with throngs of gnats, swarms of mosquitoes, and clouds of dive-bombing deer flies.
My fashion-conscious friend with rollers still in her hair said, “It doesn’t mater how you golf – just so you look good.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“Keep in mind, girlfriend, golf is all about ridding around in a golf cart, sipping on tall lemonades, watching soaps on a cell phone, and getting out of the cart to hit the ball once in a while during commercials.”
I nodded. My first ball was stolen from the green by a red fox. “You can take a mulligan,” she mumbled, fidgeting with her curler. I lifted one shoulder and stared at her. She offered no explanation, so I hit my second ball which landed in the woods.
“Isn’t it amazing how they design golf courses in the middle of a woods?” she tsked, tsked, walking to the golf cart.
I smiled politely and nodded.
“Just get in,” she said, patting the seat in the golf cart. “We have to get the ball in some hole that’s so small, it has to be marked by a stick with a flag on it.” I climbed in next to her. “Find your ball when we go past the woods – we’ll just carry it to the next hole.”
“Is that legal?” I asked, stunned.
“Of course it is. You don’t want to lose your ball, do you?”
“Maxine,” I said, “golf is fun, but it’s really a bogey way to goof up a good walk.”
“Nah. That’s just par for the course,” she said, with a laugh and floored the cart.
Frivolous story? Absolutely. But, it demonstrates the insignificance of man’s focus compared to God’s amazing true story of Jesus Christ, His Son, and Him crucified for the sins of the world. Jesus never concerned Himself with proper posture as he walked from town to town. Although, He faced daily challenges along the way, He was never in a hurry to get to His next stop. Instead, He taught the crowds, had compassion on the poor and hungry, and healed those in need. His mission was all about revealing His Father’s will and the mysteries of heaven to mankind, to demonstrate His love for us, and the forgiveness of sins offered to all through faith in Him.