Matt W Cook

writer.former fundamentalist.christianly fellow

Golfing With Jesus

My dad came home from work today and said, “Dude, let’s do something.” So he, Mike and I went out to engage in just about the strangest sport you could dream up. Driving Range. That’s right, we grabbed a bucket full of balls and whacked at them for an hour with strange, metal sticks.

I am about the worst golfer in the world. I can rarely even make contact with the ball and when I do I more often than not dig into the ground below it, sending dirt further than the ball. And it’s a pretty frustrating gam when you’re losing. I don’t like losing.

Dave and Mike are pretty good, which made it all worse. Mike would sail those balls out as far as the eye can see and then have the nerve to complain about how it was too far to the right. It was kinda like those punks in college who never have to study, pull 95% on all the exams and then complain about it (*cough* Andy Mack). So it really wasn’t all that encouraging in the beginning, though it was certainly fun.

At this driving range there is an old car about halfway down, beat-up from years of being pelted with balls. I couldn’t guess at how far away it was. Probably very close for normal golfers, but it seemed like an unachievable ideal for someone like me. So Mike, our resident skilled dude, suggested that the first one to hit the stupid thing should receive ten dollars from the two losers. Dave thought it was a good idea. I’m not one to think through things, so I also agreed.

Now, I know my limitations. I fully understood that I’d never be getting that twenty dollar prize. Heck, I doubted even Dave or Mike could have hit that thing. But I tried anyway. Unfortunately under the pressure my game actually got worse. So after and five tries I gave up inside. No worries.

So I grabbed another ball, not caring about the car. I set it up and took out one of those funny sticks with a 3 on it. As I set myself up a few thoughts went through my head. Wouldn’t it be neat, I thought, if I actually hit that thing? But I certainly don’t have the skill for it. And if we’re talking about luck here I might as well try the lottery. And then I thought these exact words, though I really can’t understand why: “Jesus, show me how you feel about me with this next shot.” I have no clue why that thought showed up.

And then I swung. Didn’t really try, actually. But the ball went high and straight, the best shot of the day for me. It bounced on the ground right in front of the car and pelted it on the door. Dave and Mike were dumbfounded.

Now, I’m not one of those guys who things Jesus picks out the perfect parking spot for me whenever I ask for one. I know that it could have been complete chance that I hit that thing. But the object lesson I got out of it leans me toward thinking that Jesus actually did move that ball.

You see, I’m completely useless. Single-handedly I doubled the amount of divots on that driving range. But it didn’t matter that I was useless because Jesus likes doing crazy things with useless people. So the next time I look at a project before me that seems completely out of my depth, I’m just going to ask myself if the job is from Jesus or not. Because if he’s willing to give me a hand in winning $20 golfing, then surely he’ll get the impossible done through me when he himself is asking me to do it, right?

Golfing With Jesus

My dad came home from work today and said, “Dude, let’s do something.” So he, Mike and I went out to engage in just about the strangest sport you could dream up. Driving Range. That’s right, we grabbed a bucket full of balls and whacked at them for an hour with strange, metal sticks.

I am about the worst golfer in the world. I can rarely even make contact with the ball and when I do I more often than not dig into the ground below it, sending dirt further than the ball. And it’s a pretty frustrating gam when you’re losing. I don’t like losing.

Dave and Mike are pretty good, which made it all worse. Mike would sail those balls out as far as the eye can see and then have the nerve to complain about how it was too far to the right. It was kinda like those punks in college who never have to study, pull 95% on all the exams and then complain about it (*cough* Andy Mack). So it really wasn’t all that encouraging in the beginning, though it was certainly fun.

At this driving range there is an old car about halfway down, beat-up from years of being pelted with balls. I couldn’t guess at how far away it was. Probably very close for normal golfers, but it seemed like an unachievable ideal for someone like me. So Mike, our resident skilled dude, suggested that the first one to hit the stupid thing should receive ten dollars from the two losers. Dave thought it was a good idea. I’m not one to think through things, so I also agreed.

Now, I know my limitations. I fully understood that I’d never be getting that twenty dollar prize. Heck, I doubted even Dave or Mike could have hit that thing. But I tried anyway. Unfortunately under the pressure my game actually got worse. So after and five tries I gave up inside. No worries.

So I grabbed another ball, not caring about the car. I set it up and took out one of those funny sticks with a 3 on it. As I set myself up a few thoughts went through my head. Wouldn’t it be neat, I thought, if I actually hit that thing? But I certainly don’t have the skill for it. And if we’re talking about luck here I might as well try the lottery. And then I thought these exact words, though I really can’t understand why: “Jesus, show me how you feel about me with this next shot.” I have no clue why that thought showed up.

And then I swung. Didn’t really try, actually. But the ball went high and straight, the best shot of the day for me. It bounced on the ground right in front of the car and pelted it on the door. Dave and Mike were dumbfounded.

Now, I’m not one of those guys who things Jesus picks out the perfect parking spot for me whenever I ask for one. I know that it could have been complete chance that I hit that thing. But the object lesson I got out of it leans me toward thinking that Jesus actually did move that ball.

You see, I’m completely useless. Single-handedly I doubled the amount of divots on that driving range. But it didn’t matter that I was useless because Jesus likes doing crazy things with useless people. So the next time I look at a project before me that seems completely out of my depth, I’m just going to ask myself if the job is from Jesus or not. Because if he’s willing to give me a hand in winning $20 golfing, then surely he’ll get the impossible done through me when he himself is asking me to do it, right?