Better to Focus on the Green than The Sand Trap (Some Spiritual Advice)

I’m going to start with a bit of golf wisdom and then move on to something more important.

Golf is a funny game.  When you get ready to hit a shot, an endless number of thoughts can flood your mind. Some may be specific ideas about how you are going to direct your body.  Others may concern timing or an awareness of who might be watching you. What you have in mind before you swing is important.

If you are getting ready to hit a shot that has a chance of landing in a sand trap instead of on the green, a common thought is, “I just don’t want the ball to land in that sand trap!” But more often than not, having that thought will result in the ball finding its way to the sand.  “That’s exactly what I didn’t want to do!” we say to ourselves.  On we go, not only lamenting not the outcome but frustrated with ourselves.

Wise coaches tell us the key is understanding how our mind works.  The theory is that our mind will direct our body to try and fulfill what we want.  However, it’s designed to focus more on a clear visual image than a word.  When we say, “I just don’t want to land in that sand trap,” our mind sees “sand trap” but doesn’t hear the word “don’t.” 

The better option, they say, is to take a long look at the green and think, “I want this ball to land on that green.” Then we take a relaxing breath and swing.  There is no guarantee, but more often than not the shot will go in the right direction. 

What does this say about our spiritual life?

I believe it suggests to us what we focus on and expect in our journey is important. 

One problem is that for centuries, dominant strands of the Christian tradition have said the most important truth in life is: “You are a sinner.  There is something fundamentally wrong with you, and you should never forget it.”

To me, it’s basically like telling yourself again and again, “Of course things go wrong. I deserve it.” 

I don’t believe that’s the best approach.

In the parable of the Good Samaritan, Jesus doesn’t dwell on the people who pass by the injured man, but lifts up the person who cared enough to stop and do something to help him.  The implication: “Isn’t this kind of person who you want to be?”

In the Parable of the Prodigal Son, the main message is that the father of the two sons is more generous and forgiving than either son imagined and invites them both to a party celebrating that abundant grace.

I believe this perspective underlies the most profound set of teachings in the New Testament, the Beatitudes.

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” isn’t inviting us to assume feeling empty or broken as a state we deserve.  Instead, it’s an encouragement to trust that beyond our broken hearts there can be healing and new life.

When we hear “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted,” we are given hope that our grief can, over time, lead us to discover a humble sense of inner peace.               

And there are the other six statements: “Blessed are the meek…Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness…Blessed are the merciful…Blessed are the pure in heart…Blessed are the peacemakers… Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake …”  All of these are words of encouragement to do and be the best we can, not dwell on our unworthiness.

Summoning all the best images and intentions as we play golf certainly doesn’t guarantee success every time.   The game is designed to both humble and delight us; we will find our way into sand traps often enough.  But that’s not when we quit. That’s when we do our best to meet the challenge before us, learn from each experience, and move on. 

As maturing human beings, we have plenty of opportunities to recognize our own mixed motives, shortcomings and disappointments.  But we don’t stop there.  We are here for more than that.  We are in this life to learn how to love and endure and serve.  That’s worth keeping at the center of our intentions.

Lead image: St. Georges’s Golf Course, Ontario, Canada