Last week I received a text from my cousin reminding me that last year at this time, she, my mom, and I were at the Hermitage outside of Nashville, Tennessee. Ahhh, the memories. It was a beautiful fall day and an absolutely wonderful experience. That one memory relegated to the background four long days of driving, three nights in less than . . . and then lesser than . . . and then much lesser than (are those words?) salubrious hotels, and the previous day’s booting and $50 release of our tire at Mud Island.



I responded with, “A trip takes months of preparation, lasts a couple of weeks, but provides a lifetime of memories.” And wouldn’t you know it . . . a blog was born.

Have you noticed how trips take on a life of their own after the fact? Years after the actual journey, participants continue to talk about this experience and laugh about that one. Even the bad or rough parts seem to play an essential role as they now provide “trench warfare” experiences that strengthen the personal connections even more.

Memories bind us together.

Mom and I had been planning this trip back to Tennessee for awhile. We were to visit relatives and take a side trip with them up into Kentucky to see the Creation Museum and the Ark. In an extended family Zoom call, we shared our plans. In a later visit to my cousin’s, she asked if she could join us and share with the driving. We immediately said yes.

But that was only part of the story. As Paul Harvey would say, “Here’s the rest of the story.”

Previous by weeks if not months to our Zoom call “reveal”, my cousin had been listening to some of her neighbors talk about various recent road trips. Though she had traveled a lot, she had never been on an actual “road trip” per se, and was beginning to take to the idea. She had also always wanted to see the Ark . . . but to do either alone seemed both impractical and not that much fun. So . . . she prayed . . . that God would create an opportunity for a road trip and that she could see the Ark. She just never dreamed God would put the two together . . . and with her two favorite relatives. (Smiley face and tongue in cheek emojis inserted here.)

But He did, and now a year later we are sharing the experience and the smiles again.

As Christians, we need to take a lesson from our secular experiences. We need to not only remember what God has done for us . . . the way he has answered prayer . . . walked us through difficult situations . . . provided for our needs . . . but we also need to share them. To bring them back and talk about them just like we do those vacation memories. We need to continue to revel in his power and smile at his creativity, and the mind-blowing way He answers prayer or resolves issues.

The Israelites would set stones and create festivals to remind them of what God had done for them. When we take communion we remember what Christ did for us on the cross. Remembering is important. David in Psalm 77:11 says, “I will remember the deeds of the Lord; yes, I will remember your wonders of old.” Sharing those memories with others is one way to solidify those memories and glorify God.

I hope to share with you a wonderful example of God’s provision in a couple of weeks. In the meantime, I would love you to share one of yours. It is good to remember.

Okay. I promise. This will be the last golf-related blog for awhile, but after last week’s, I thought I should probably end the story. Plus, this one is extremely relevant.

The club champion defended her title as any great club champion would—played through the pain, never complained, and soundly trounced us all.



I — on the other hand — had a learning experience . . . an encounter with Rule 10.1 . . . and a reminder about the value of rules and tough love.

Rules, in any sport, are put in place to protect the legitimacy of the competition, thereby allowing players to play freely and creatively. Could you imagine the chaos in any sport if there weren’t any rules?

In golf, in particular, the rules are primarily there to help you—to allow you get relief from obstructions, poor course conditions, hazards, etc. Of course, they are also there to make sure competition is fair to all players.

When things are going well, I am a pleasant person to play with. But when my game goes awry, often so does my congenial attitude. On rare occasions (fortunately), but usually during competitions, if I play poorly, I get upset. Enter hole number 12 on Saturday—a par 4 which plays like a par 5.

Because of two poor approach shots, it took me four to get on. Then I barely missed what I thought was a makable putt for the 5 and the ball stopped six inches past the hole. In my frustration, when I went to hit the ball in for the six, I didn’t line up or set myself, so my club ended up catching the ground, then scraped, scooped, and pushed the ball into the hole. My playing partners looked at me in horror. We all knew this couldn’t be considered a legitimate stroke.

And it wasn’t. Rule 10.1, specifically says your club can’t do any of those things and mine did all three. You must make clean, momentary contact with the ball.

The consequence? Well, it wasn’t as bad as what happened to Moses when he struck the rock in frustration, but it was a hard lesson to learn. Two stroke penalty. So my double bogie, which I could have recovered from, was now a quadruple bogie. And it never had to be. I did it to myself.

There are always consequences for bad choices.

It’s funny how we value rules in sports, but chafe at God’s rules for our lives, and yet they are there for the very same reasons: to help us maneuver around obstacles, save us from chaos and confusion, and avoid unwanted consequences.

However, from the beginning man has rebelled in one way or another, and there are always consequences, immediate or in the future. As I read through the Bible and see individual waywardness and witness Israel’s backsliding and Judah’s blatant rejection of God, I am reminded of the grace and mercy of God’s tough love. Tough love doesn’t take away the consequences, some of which can be extremely hard and harsh, but there is always the choice to return to God, and with the return, reconciliation and blessing.

If all goes well, as you read this, I should be competing in the second of three days of our club championship.

The defending champion has graciously given the rest of us a wee window of opportunity. She has a broken toe and deeply embedded sliver in one foot and is covered in poison oak. It’s not much of a window and I doubt these will slow her down at all, but we’re grateful for her efforts on our behalf.




However, the past few months have reminded me of a very important golf (and spiritual) mantra: Drive for show; putt for dough.

Yes, it’s the short game, not the long showy drives that matter most. Too many times I, and others, have been on the green, only to three-putt a par away.

I was listening to a three-minute inspirational golf message, and the narrator related how Ed, now 92 and losing distance (a by-product of aging), started concentrating on his short game—his chipping and putting—and shot a 72.

Similarly, sometimes in our spiritual walk, we believe it’s the big things that are most important: the grandeur of our sanctuary and the size of the parking lot; the elaborateness of the Christmas pageant. The number of people who attend a church or the length and breadth of a prayer. We sometimes feel that these big things demonstrate God’s presence and blessing.

And it may be true, but it could also be deceiving.

To my knowledge, rarely in the bible does God glorify big things, but instead the small, humble things. His own Son was born in a stable in a manger in a small town.

To God, all things matter, and He uses these small things to accomplish much greater things:

A little boy’s lunch
Faith the size of a mustard seed—one of the smallest seeds on earth.
The widow’s last two coins.
Sparrows and the hairs on our head.
Even Zacchaeus was little.

But each of these “little” people, things, sacrifices, God used in big ways to demonstrate His character.

God’s compassion and ability to meet our every need
Trust—even the smallest amount—will continue to grow as we find God ever-faithful
True sacrifice—from the heart—is most dear to God
God sees, knows, and loves us no matter who we are.
God can change lives—radically.

Though we all would like to do big things for God, it really is the small things given from a sincere heart that are most important. So as we go through this coming week, remember the importance of small things — on all fronts. The small act of kindness or the kind word. The few verses you were able to read and the small prayer you made on someone’s behalf.

Our small sacrifices, actions, words are all God needs to do great things. After all, He made everything out of nothing at all.

There are numerous differences between professional golfers and recreational ones. (Hello, Captain Obvious.) But one of the most significant is their opposing views of sand traps . . . aka bunkers.

Even though they are considered a hazard (or penalty area), most professionals don’t fear them. They feel confident of getting out of them, believe they can make a good shot from there, and often aim for one as the best shot option.

Not so for many recreational golfers. They would rather be anywhere but in a bunker. Give them the worst rough and they would be happy because that, at least, is a known quantity. It’s grass.

The difference? Professional golfers practice and practice and practice getting out of bunkers, so much so that they trust their shot.

Life as a Christian isn’t much different. Often we are thrown into new and difficult situations that we haven’t ever been in before, and we would rather be anywhere but there.

But the real issue is also one of trust. Not in a club, but in God. And the same remedy applies. Let me explain.

Many of us, at sometime in our lives, have prayed for patience . . . only to find out that the only way to gain patience is to deal with situations where patience is required. Patience isn’t magically bestowed on us from above (though we would certainly like it to be.)

The same with trust. The only way our trust can grow is to be put into situations where trust is required. The more we experience God’s faithfulness, love, mercy, protection . . . the more our trust grows.

James writes in his epistle to “Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”

As one writer so aptly says, “Trials develop our spiritual muscles, giving us the stamina and endurance to stay the course (Romans 5:2–5). We can count it all joy in trials because in them we learn to depend on God and trust Him.” (Got Questions)

Anyone who has moved houses knows of this natural phenomenon — stuff multiplies.

We are in the process of moving my mother from the home she and my father built — and then lived in — since 1967.  For my two younger sisters, it is really the only house they have ever known. For my brother and I, it is the house that holds the most memories — and now that we are all helping her move — a lot of stuff.





Moves may be exciting, but they are also challenging. In many cases, because of the circumstances, you can’t take everything with you, which means culling through all your belongings and deciding what goes and what doesn’t.

And this is hard because it is tough to let go of our stuff. Our stuff makes us feel secure. Our stuff makes us comfortable. Our stuff has a lot of memories.

Our stuff owns us.

So moving requires us to leave our comfort zone and much of what makes us feel secure, and venture into something and somewhere new. It requires trust.

I am drawn to the stories of “moving” in the Bible, whether God commanded (as in Abraham to Canaan) or God directed (as in Moses to Jethro’s or Joseph to Egypt). Most left with very little if anything of their former life except their trust in God, but that trust brought great rewards.

Many of us are not currently contemplating a physical move, but God is always asking us to move spiritually forward, and as with a physical move, sometimes it is just tough to get rid of things that bring us comfort and security but at the same time own us.

Is God nudging you to move forward? Away from one “place” and to another? Are there things in your spiritual life that “own” you that God is asking you to leave behind?

Are you being asked to trust? Do it!