Golfing with the Greeks

(Colossians 2:8) Beware lest any man spoil you through philosophy and vain deceit, after the tradition of men, after the rudiments of the world, and not after Christ.

Once upon a time there was a man who heard his pastor preach one Sunday morning that it ought to be the goal of every Christian to lay hold of the glorious patterns embodied in the Lord’s Service, and to spread them faithfully into the rest of the week; living life according to God’s call; making humble confessions of sin and rejoicing in God’s grace; living knowledgeable of and obedient to God’s commands; singing psalms, feasting and communing with the Lord always.

And this the man determined to do, but immediately met with frustration and bewilderment. Because although he golfed like a Hebrew, he worshipped like a Greek. Faced with the arduous task of lowering his already admirably-low golf-handicap, this man read books, watched videos, took private lessons and most importantly went regularly to the driving range where he was able to transfer the data stored in his mind into the very tissues of his muscles, bones, sinews and nerve-synapses. In Solomon’s parlance, he was a wise golfer, because he knew golfing in his hands as well as he knew it in his head.

But, unfortunately, unlike his golfing, he worshipped like a Greek. This poor man was perfectly convinced that the importance of what happened between his two ears as he worshipped, far surpassed the grittier realities of what he did with his body, which was merely a fleshly distraction to true worship. He didn’t sing well nor loud, nor did he care to learn how to do so (what was the point?) He bowed his head perfunctorily and knelt as one of the herd, but never in contrition. He lifted his hands just high enough to avoid an elder visit, but never high enough to indicate actual exuberance. He ate the bread without savoring the taste of it, and drank the wine without imagining that his plastic thimble was golden chalice and filled to the brim.

And so, ironically, this man’s half-hearted obedience was his own undoing. He dutifully obeyed his pastor’s exhortation to spread what he was doing in the Lord’s Service into corners of his life, but unfortunately, what he was doing in worship was nothing but a lifeless little Gnostic mind-game. So all week long, just as he had rehearsed on Sunday morning, he thought great thoughts, purposed great purposes and intended great intentions, but sadly, nothing ever made its way from the realm of his mind into the fabric of his life.

Quite abruptly, the man decided upon a bold experiment. He would golf like a Greek and worship like a Hebrew.

The effects have been difficult to gage because he no longer keeps score on the links, preferring instead his contemplations of a perfect swing and a perfect game. His weeks are measurably more demanding yet somehow less complicated. He’s gained a couple of pounds, but he’s singing more. He goes to bed tired every night, but a visceral sort of joy seems to be seeping into the cloth of his conduct and conversation. And he is thankful.