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Just like the United States Golf Association says, "I really, really, really love golf." It's fun, good exercise when toting the tools, an unconquerable adventure, and cheaper than other kinds of therapy.

But there are some things that are really starting to bother me. It's getting really, really, really expensive. The costs of equipment and play are escalating quicker than the price of a backup quarterback in the NFL.

I went into a local country club pro shop looking for a Cobra 26° utility wood with a firm steel shaft. Though they didn't have what I really wanted, they had another club that I kind of wanted (namely, a Cobra 12° driver with a firm graphite shaft). But the price was in the ozone layer of reality. They were hawking the club for about 200 dollars more than most retail outlets and catalogues. While I know country clubs appeal to our sympathies for supporting the club and pro, who usually get a cut, I also know such price-gouging -- stealing -- preys on the game's neophytes and enabling spouses of the addicts whose ignorance about the game makes them an easy mark when holidays, birthdays, and anniversaries roll around.

I really can't stand mulligans -- that euphemism for do-overs. My daddy warned me about mulligans as soon as I hit my first worm-burner. He said, "If you don't count every shot, you'll never know how good you really are." He said mulligans, gimmes, winter rules in the summer, foot wedges, and all of that delude us from the truth about our playing abilities. He said it's like stealing or taking something that isn't yours.

When Harvey Penick, the late golf guru who gave us his Little Red Book (1992), 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."


Anyone who has ever played the game knows golf reveals character.

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, he 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.


Then there's Harry Toscano. He really bothers me.

Harry has a hard time with the truth about his game. Instead of recognizing the truth that his game has never been up there with the best in the world, he sued the PGA Tour on July 14, 1997. Essentially, he claims there aren't enough spots in tournaments for guys like him.

Aside from the fact that Harry was never quite good enough to earn an exemption, he's still not quite good enough to earn his way to the Senior Tour. He sounds like the parents of a bench-sitting eleventh grade football player who doesn't understand varsity sports aren't run like intramurals. Or as Dave Stockton scolded:

I'm terribly disappointed that Harry has taken this route. I don't see people rushing out suing the NFL when they are cut on the last cut. Nothing has stopped Hugh Baiocchi or Tom Wargo or Bruce Summerhays. Tell me, who is a good player who has been denied a chance to play on the Senior Tour? It was not created as a gift for a bunch of mediocre players.


Harry is trying to use a lawsuit to acquire what isn't his. He's trying to steal a spot from those who earned it over the years. Instead of thanking God for the opportunity to qualify on merit like newcomers Albus, Gilbert, Landers, Laoretti, Summerhays, Wargo, and so many others, he's looking for a litigious loophole to gain through the courts what he cannot attain on the course.

I've met folks like Harry in every station of life. They want what they can't earn and don't deserve. Unfortunately, they will break the eighth commandment to get it.

I think of a story told to me by Thom Hickling, the publisher of Expression. According to Thom, a preacher 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 preacher got up to leave, he noticed that 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."

Taking what doesn't belong to you is stealing. It breaks the eighth commandment of God. It breaks trust among people. It does nothing to enable one's communion with God.

You've probably heard of Golden Rule Jones. He was mayor of Toledo, Ohio, during the depression of the '30s. He presided at police court every now and then. As he presided one day, a man was brought in and charged with stealing groceries. The man pleaded guilty and offered no excuse except for the fact that he had no job and no money. "I've got to fine you," Golden Rule Jones said. The major explained, "You stole, not from the community responsible for these conditions, but from a particular man. So I fine you ten dollars." Right after declaring the fine, Golden Rule Jones reached into his pocket, pulled out ten dollars, and said, "Here's the money to pay for your fine." Then he picked up his hat, handed it to the bailiff, and announced, "Now I'm going to fine everybody in this courtroom fifty cents, or as much thereof as he happens to have with him, for living in a town where a man has to steal groceries in order to eat. Bailiff, go through the courtroom, collect the fines, and give them to the defendant."

When we take from others what our Lord never intended for us or keep from others what our Lord intended for us to share with them, we're breaking the eighth commandment.

That's why some folks are like the IRS. Or as I saw on a bumper sticker the other day, "Don't Steal! Our Government Hates Competition!"

The Reverend Ronald F. McManus was pastor of Winston-Salem, North Carolina's First Assembly of God for sixteen years. He just accepted a call to become president of EQUIP (an organization for developing pastoral leadership) in Atlanta, Georgia.

Ron was a good friend of mine. I'll never forget the day he said, "Bob, you Presbyterians never get moving on anything. You meet and study, meet and study, and then meet and study some more. Opportunities just pass you by. By the time you make up your minds, it's too late." When I asked how they did it, he said, "We pray and ask God to tell us what to do. As soon as we agree in prayer on God's will for our church, we act."

Tough concept for mainliners.

But churches like Ron's are growing at an incredibly fast rate. While that's kindling for another sermon, it does explain why the old mainline denominations have moved to the sidelines in the past two or three decades.

Anyway, when Ron was asked how big the church should be, he answered, "As long as there's someone in Winston-Salem who needs Jesus, this church isn't big enough yet."

God help -- forgive -- Christians who don't think and act like Ron. They're stealing salvation from people.

About two years ago, Ron discovered he has cancer. He said that revelation has changed his life. He reflected, "You face life and death and start thinking, 'How can I live the rest of my life in a way that would make a difference?' "

Ron knows the answer. Ron lives the answer. Give!

It's the best way to keep the eighth commandment. Because when you're giving, you don't think about taking or keeping.

I recently heard about a teacher in California who told each of her students how she or he had made a difference to her and the school. She gave each student a blue ribbon with gold letters that read, "Who I Am Makes A Difference!"

Then the teacher gave three more ribbons to each student and told them to give them to people who had made a difference in their lives. The students were told to report back in a week.

One of the students gave a ribbon to a junior executive who had helped him with career planning. Then he gave the two remaining ribbons to the junior executive and told him to honor someone who had made a difference in his life.

The junior executive gave one of the ribbons to his boss. Though his boss was notoriously cranky and crass, he had helped the junior executive in many ways. Then the junior executive gave the remaining ribbon to his boss and told him to honor someone who had made a difference in his life.

The boss went home and said to his son:

The most incredible thing happened to me today. I was in my office and one of the junior executives came in and told me he admired me and gave me a blue ribbon for being a creative genius. Imagine. He thinks I'm a creative genius. Then he put this blue ribbon on me that says, "Who I Am Makes A Difference!" Then he gave me a ribbon and told me to honor someone who has made a difference in my life.

I was driving home tonight and I started thinking about who I'd like to honor. I thought about you. I'd like to honor you.

My days are really hectic. When I come home, I know I don't pay a lot of attention to you. Sometimes I scream at you for not getting good grades and leaving your room a mess. But I want you to know you make a difference in my life. You're a great kid and I love you!


The boy was startled by his dad's openness and affection. He began to cry. He couldn't stop crying. He cried so hard that his whole body shook. Finally, he looked up at his father through tears and said, "Dad, I was planning to kill myself tomorrow because I didn't think you loved me. Now I don't have to do that."

The best way to keep the eighth commandment is to give. Because when you're giving, you don't think about taking or keeping.

Not long after our youth group returned from "Fun in the Son" (a youth conference sponsored by Presbyterians for Renewal), we had a debriefing. We talked about the good things that had happened and how we can improve upon the experience in the future.

I was a little concerned about some of the financial arrangements. Specifically, I thought it was a bit unfair for our church to pay the way for children who are not members of our church. When I asked what others thought about it, my oldest son Ben squirmed in his seat for a few moments and then blurted out through what appeared to be tears forming in his eyes. "Well, if I had the money myself, I'd pay for anybody who wanted to go to a place where they could hear about Jesus and maybe experience him as Lord and Savior."

It's tough when your children are right. It's tough when your children practice what you preach.

The best way to keep the eighth commandment is to give. Because when you're giving you don't think about taking or keeping.

I think of Tony Campolo talking about an apocalyptic moment with his son Bart in Haiti. As father and son walked through the streets, they were followed by young children begging for money. "Don't give them anything," father warned son, "or they'll want all you have." Bart answered, "So!"

The best way to keep the eighth commandment is to give. Because when you're giving, you don't think about taking or keeping.

Yes, some folks are just like the IRS. They don't give. They take and keep. But "God," wrote Paul, "loves a cheerful giver" (2 Corinthians 9:7).