God Knows!
Spirituality
Golf In The Real Kingdom
A Spiritual Metaphor For Life In The Modern World
Object:
You are the man!
-- 2 Samuel 12:7
It has become fashionable to pretend a separation of private from public lives.
You know how it goes: "What I do in private is nobody's business ... Keep your nose out of my affairs! ... There's no connection between a person's private life and her or his profession ... What I do on my own time is of no concern of yours ... We're not a reincarnation of the Soviet Union! ... He's doing a good job! So leave him alone! Everybody deserves a private life!"
The assumption suggests it's possible to be publicly productive even if privately perverted.
Certainly, revelations from Pennsylvania Avenue have generated our recent obsession with the issue in an increasingly more seamy than serious way.
While tabloids, the tobacco industry, and Saturday Night Live are beneficiaries of this Gothic emission, I'm beginning to wonder if the pendulum is swinging too fast from the promiscuity of previous decades to a neo-Puritanism. And as church, state, and fourth estate place the character of our off-White House residents under their seemingly self-righteous microscopes, I can almost hear the voice of reason and ultimate accountability asking rhetorically, "What's that I see in your eye?"
I can almost hear the only accountant who really matters cautioning us, "The measure you give will be the measure you get" (see Matthew 7).
As someone trying to be a Christian in all things at all times, I can never excuse behavior in others that insults God's holiness and cripples relationships. But that same Christianity compels me to acknowledge my own depravity as a context for judgment.
Indeed, ever since ostensibly faithful folks like King David of old and a couple of Jimmies of late made mockery of God's coded ethics established in Sinai, God's people have concentrated more on the confession and repentance that redeem than the wages of sin. After all, that's why Jesus is called Savior. Or as he said, "God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him" (see John 3).
Acknowledging sin and the escape of its ultimate consequences through confession and repentance should not be confused with license to be ethically irresponsible. I'm just being honest about who we are (sinners) and why we need Jesus (salvation from our sinful nature).
Sin is sin whether it's private or public. Privately concealed or publicly revealed, it's all the same to God. It insults His holiness and causes a breach only bridged by humility expressed through confession and repentance.
Though it has become fashionable to pretend a separation of private from public lives, whoever said Christianity is defined by political or public opinion? Conversely, Christianity is designed to lead the world as it is led by the Lord.
Putting it another way: our discipleship doesn't end when no one is looking. Putting it soberly: everybody is looking!
Everybody is looking at Washington and Christendom and all of the rest -- including you and me -- with enquiring minds.
That's why Christendom has never endorsed this ethical dualism pretending a disconnection between private and public lives.
That's why Christendom has always endorsed consistently connected discipleship, encouraging its adherents to love God privately and publicly through confession (talk), conduct (walk), and countenance (appearance) as taught in the Bible and exemplified in Jesus.
That's what it means to be known as completely Christian.
I was playing in a tennis doubles tournament many years ago in Kansas City. At a crucial moment in a closely contested match, I hit an ace right down the middle. It was perfect -- right on the line with out-of-sight-out-of-reach pace. Immediately, the guy closest to the net yelled, "Out!" "Out?" I yelled back. But quickly, composing myself, conscious of congregants on adjacent courts and in the stands, I just bit my lip as my mind did a blue-flame burn. My partner turned around slowly and whispered matter-of-factly, "God knows!"
Yes, God knows.
God knew King David did the nasty with Bathsheba and tried to cover it up by having her husband knocked off on the battlefield.
God knew Judas sold out Jesus for cash and ideology.
God knew those two Jimmies looked spic-and-span in the sanctuary on the weekends but were as sin-stained as the gently gullible who were duped into emptying family coffers for their egocentric kingdom-building.
God knows what really happened in Washington.
God knows what's really happening on Main Street, USA.
God knows what's really happening behind closed doors.
God knows our true inclinations, motivations, temptations, and all the rest.
God knows when we cheat on Him.
God knows when we reject His will for our lives in public or private.
God knows our sinful attitudes and actions.
God knows all about us.
Our secret as well as seen lives are laid open before God.
God is, after all, God. And He knows!
That probably comes as a shock to people who think they can get away with bad stuff as long as it's out-of-sight.
When you've hit a ball deeply into the woods and nobody is within sight, it's easy to find the ball and have a good lie and clear shot to the green.
Or as Mickey Mantle said, "You know the old rule. He who have fastest cart never have to play bad lie."
Ain't it the truth?
Golf like life is so often about lies.
Bruce Lansky asked, "Did you ever stop and think why the pencils they give out with scorecards don't have erasers?"
When Harvey Penick, the late golf guru who gave us his little red and green books, was asked by some students if they could improve their lies and play winter rules because of bad playing conditions, he replied, "Why don't you play golf?"
I've always liked this little anecdote from Mr. Penick:
Two proud parents came to me at the club and announced that their young son had just scored his first birdie.
I agreed that was a wonderful event and asked them how long was the putt Junior made for the birdie.
The parents said the putt was only two feet long, so they gave Junior a "gimme" to assure his first birdie.
"I've got bad news for you," I said, "Junior still hasn't made his first birdie."
I think of President Clinton who claimed to shoot 93 during the Bob Hope Chrysler Classic in Palm Desert, California (February 15, 1995). A spectator who followed him for all eighteen holes shook his head and reported, "You could erase the deficit overnight with addition like that."
No wonder former California Governor George Deukmejian noted, "The difference between golf and government is that in golf you can't improve your lie."
Unfortunately, folks always seem to be improving their lies in golf and life.
John Freeman was right in Tee-ology: Golf's Lessons for Christians and Other Seekers (1994):
It starts innocently enough, Discovering an unplayable lie, we kick the ball toward the fairway ... Or on the sly we take an extra "mulligan." Or we refuse to count the additional stroke for a lost ball because the rough, in our opinion, is not cut sufficiently. Or we disregard the out-of-bounds marker on account of our philosophical objection to unnatural hazards.
Gradually, and probably imperceptibly, we grant ourselves a selective exemption from the rules of golf ... The one thing we improve in the process isn't our game, but the skill of rationalizing, going through the mental contortions necessary to justify our actions.
Hitting it straight, Dr. Freeman concluded,
So maybe there is more at stake than we realize when we ponder whether to nudge the ball away from the bush or to dismiss the whiff as a practice swing. More insidious than our reducing our score or inflating our handicap is the real sin of building up our rationalizing muscle, making it harder to subdue on the job, with our family and friends, in our religious life.
So how do we break the cycle of sin?
First, we must confess insulting God's holiness and hurting God, others, and ourselves in the process.
Second, we must repent and do the right thing.
Confession is mirror-mirror-on-the-wall-in-our-faces truth-telling. Confession isn't spinning the bad until it sounds okay. Confession is naked acknowledgment of how we have insulted God's holiness by our behavior and hurt God, others, and ourselves along the way.
When we cheat at golf, we break a few commandments, deprive others of fair competition, and delude ourselves about who we are and what we can do.
That's why my daddy doesn't allow mulligans, gimmes, winter rules, foot wedges, or anything else that improves our lies when we play. He often says, "If you don't count every shot and play by the rules, you'll never know how good you really are."
He's right!
That's why God expects -- Okay! Demands! -- repentance or turning to the right.
Confession and repentance please God so much. Or as the apostle says for God in 3 John 4: "I have no greater joy than this, to hear that my children are walking in the truth."
And the payoff is much bigger than an accurate accounting of our games and souls.
Listen to John's explanation (see 1 John 1:5-10 NIV): "If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins."
One of my favorite stories is about a preacher who visited a seasoned member of the church. As he sat on the couch, he spotted a large bowl of peanuts. "Do you mind if I have some?" he asked, "No, not at all," the woman replied. As the pastor got up to leave, he noticed he had emptied the bowl. "I'm terribly sorry, for eating all your peanuts," he confessed. "Oh, that's all right," the woman reassured him, "because ever since I lost my teeth, all I can do is suck the chocolate off them."
I guess we're kind of like those peanuts. We're naked before God. God knows all about us. And God's knowledge is not confined to our public appearances.
Fortunately, as we've already announced, we are sinners in the hands of a gracious God.
Or as R. C. Sproul explained (The Holiness of God, 1985):
A sound theology must be a theology where grace is central to it. When we understand the character of God, when we grasp something of His holiness, then we begin to understand the radical character of our sin and helplessness. Helpless sinners can only survive by grace. Our strength is futile in itself; we are spiritually impotent without the assistance of a merciful God. We may dislike giving our attention to God's wrath and justice, but until we incline ourselves to these aspects of God's nature, we will never appreciate what has been wrought for us by grace. Even Edward's sermon on sinners in God's hands was not designed to stress the flames of hell. The resounding accent falls not on the fiery pit but on the hands of the God who holds us and rescues us from it. The hands of God are gracious hands. They alone have the power to rescue us from certain destruction.
We are blessed by our Lord whose knowledge of us may be surpassed only by His love for us.
That's good to know.
That's God.
-- 2 Samuel 12:7
It has become fashionable to pretend a separation of private from public lives.
You know how it goes: "What I do in private is nobody's business ... Keep your nose out of my affairs! ... There's no connection between a person's private life and her or his profession ... What I do on my own time is of no concern of yours ... We're not a reincarnation of the Soviet Union! ... He's doing a good job! So leave him alone! Everybody deserves a private life!"
The assumption suggests it's possible to be publicly productive even if privately perverted.
Certainly, revelations from Pennsylvania Avenue have generated our recent obsession with the issue in an increasingly more seamy than serious way.
While tabloids, the tobacco industry, and Saturday Night Live are beneficiaries of this Gothic emission, I'm beginning to wonder if the pendulum is swinging too fast from the promiscuity of previous decades to a neo-Puritanism. And as church, state, and fourth estate place the character of our off-White House residents under their seemingly self-righteous microscopes, I can almost hear the voice of reason and ultimate accountability asking rhetorically, "What's that I see in your eye?"
I can almost hear the only accountant who really matters cautioning us, "The measure you give will be the measure you get" (see Matthew 7).
As someone trying to be a Christian in all things at all times, I can never excuse behavior in others that insults God's holiness and cripples relationships. But that same Christianity compels me to acknowledge my own depravity as a context for judgment.
Indeed, ever since ostensibly faithful folks like King David of old and a couple of Jimmies of late made mockery of God's coded ethics established in Sinai, God's people have concentrated more on the confession and repentance that redeem than the wages of sin. After all, that's why Jesus is called Savior. Or as he said, "God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him" (see John 3).
Acknowledging sin and the escape of its ultimate consequences through confession and repentance should not be confused with license to be ethically irresponsible. I'm just being honest about who we are (sinners) and why we need Jesus (salvation from our sinful nature).
Sin is sin whether it's private or public. Privately concealed or publicly revealed, it's all the same to God. It insults His holiness and causes a breach only bridged by humility expressed through confession and repentance.
Though it has become fashionable to pretend a separation of private from public lives, whoever said Christianity is defined by political or public opinion? Conversely, Christianity is designed to lead the world as it is led by the Lord.
Putting it another way: our discipleship doesn't end when no one is looking. Putting it soberly: everybody is looking!
Everybody is looking at Washington and Christendom and all of the rest -- including you and me -- with enquiring minds.
That's why Christendom has never endorsed this ethical dualism pretending a disconnection between private and public lives.
That's why Christendom has always endorsed consistently connected discipleship, encouraging its adherents to love God privately and publicly through confession (talk), conduct (walk), and countenance (appearance) as taught in the Bible and exemplified in Jesus.
That's what it means to be known as completely Christian.
I was playing in a tennis doubles tournament many years ago in Kansas City. At a crucial moment in a closely contested match, I hit an ace right down the middle. It was perfect -- right on the line with out-of-sight-out-of-reach pace. Immediately, the guy closest to the net yelled, "Out!" "Out?" I yelled back. But quickly, composing myself, conscious of congregants on adjacent courts and in the stands, I just bit my lip as my mind did a blue-flame burn. My partner turned around slowly and whispered matter-of-factly, "God knows!"
Yes, God knows.
God knew King David did the nasty with Bathsheba and tried to cover it up by having her husband knocked off on the battlefield.
God knew Judas sold out Jesus for cash and ideology.
God knew those two Jimmies looked spic-and-span in the sanctuary on the weekends but were as sin-stained as the gently gullible who were duped into emptying family coffers for their egocentric kingdom-building.
God knows what really happened in Washington.
God knows what's really happening on Main Street, USA.
God knows what's really happening behind closed doors.
God knows our true inclinations, motivations, temptations, and all the rest.
God knows when we cheat on Him.
God knows when we reject His will for our lives in public or private.
God knows our sinful attitudes and actions.
God knows all about us.
Our secret as well as seen lives are laid open before God.
God is, after all, God. And He knows!
That probably comes as a shock to people who think they can get away with bad stuff as long as it's out-of-sight.
When you've hit a ball deeply into the woods and nobody is within sight, it's easy to find the ball and have a good lie and clear shot to the green.
Or as Mickey Mantle said, "You know the old rule. He who have fastest cart never have to play bad lie."
Ain't it the truth?
Golf like life is so often about lies.
Bruce Lansky asked, "Did you ever stop and think why the pencils they give out with scorecards don't have erasers?"
When Harvey Penick, the late golf guru who gave us his little red and green books, was asked by some students if they could improve their lies and play winter rules because of bad playing conditions, he replied, "Why don't you play golf?"
I've always liked this little anecdote from Mr. Penick:
Two proud parents came to me at the club and announced that their young son had just scored his first birdie.
I agreed that was a wonderful event and asked them how long was the putt Junior made for the birdie.
The parents said the putt was only two feet long, so they gave Junior a "gimme" to assure his first birdie.
"I've got bad news for you," I said, "Junior still hasn't made his first birdie."
I think of President Clinton who claimed to shoot 93 during the Bob Hope Chrysler Classic in Palm Desert, California (February 15, 1995). A spectator who followed him for all eighteen holes shook his head and reported, "You could erase the deficit overnight with addition like that."
No wonder former California Governor George Deukmejian noted, "The difference between golf and government is that in golf you can't improve your lie."
Unfortunately, folks always seem to be improving their lies in golf and life.
John Freeman was right in Tee-ology: Golf's Lessons for Christians and Other Seekers (1994):
It starts innocently enough, Discovering an unplayable lie, we kick the ball toward the fairway ... Or on the sly we take an extra "mulligan." Or we refuse to count the additional stroke for a lost ball because the rough, in our opinion, is not cut sufficiently. Or we disregard the out-of-bounds marker on account of our philosophical objection to unnatural hazards.
Gradually, and probably imperceptibly, we grant ourselves a selective exemption from the rules of golf ... The one thing we improve in the process isn't our game, but the skill of rationalizing, going through the mental contortions necessary to justify our actions.
Hitting it straight, Dr. Freeman concluded,
So maybe there is more at stake than we realize when we ponder whether to nudge the ball away from the bush or to dismiss the whiff as a practice swing. More insidious than our reducing our score or inflating our handicap is the real sin of building up our rationalizing muscle, making it harder to subdue on the job, with our family and friends, in our religious life.
So how do we break the cycle of sin?
First, we must confess insulting God's holiness and hurting God, others, and ourselves in the process.
Second, we must repent and do the right thing.
Confession is mirror-mirror-on-the-wall-in-our-faces truth-telling. Confession isn't spinning the bad until it sounds okay. Confession is naked acknowledgment of how we have insulted God's holiness by our behavior and hurt God, others, and ourselves along the way.
When we cheat at golf, we break a few commandments, deprive others of fair competition, and delude ourselves about who we are and what we can do.
That's why my daddy doesn't allow mulligans, gimmes, winter rules, foot wedges, or anything else that improves our lies when we play. He often says, "If you don't count every shot and play by the rules, you'll never know how good you really are."
He's right!
That's why God expects -- Okay! Demands! -- repentance or turning to the right.
Confession and repentance please God so much. Or as the apostle says for God in 3 John 4: "I have no greater joy than this, to hear that my children are walking in the truth."
And the payoff is much bigger than an accurate accounting of our games and souls.
Listen to John's explanation (see 1 John 1:5-10 NIV): "If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins."
One of my favorite stories is about a preacher who visited a seasoned member of the church. As he sat on the couch, he spotted a large bowl of peanuts. "Do you mind if I have some?" he asked, "No, not at all," the woman replied. As the pastor got up to leave, he noticed he had emptied the bowl. "I'm terribly sorry, for eating all your peanuts," he confessed. "Oh, that's all right," the woman reassured him, "because ever since I lost my teeth, all I can do is suck the chocolate off them."
I guess we're kind of like those peanuts. We're naked before God. God knows all about us. And God's knowledge is not confined to our public appearances.
Fortunately, as we've already announced, we are sinners in the hands of a gracious God.
Or as R. C. Sproul explained (The Holiness of God, 1985):
A sound theology must be a theology where grace is central to it. When we understand the character of God, when we grasp something of His holiness, then we begin to understand the radical character of our sin and helplessness. Helpless sinners can only survive by grace. Our strength is futile in itself; we are spiritually impotent without the assistance of a merciful God. We may dislike giving our attention to God's wrath and justice, but until we incline ourselves to these aspects of God's nature, we will never appreciate what has been wrought for us by grace. Even Edward's sermon on sinners in God's hands was not designed to stress the flames of hell. The resounding accent falls not on the fiery pit but on the hands of the God who holds us and rescues us from it. The hands of God are gracious hands. They alone have the power to rescue us from certain destruction.
We are blessed by our Lord whose knowledge of us may be surpassed only by His love for us.
That's good to know.
That's God.
