A Game That Looks Simple But Isn’t
On the surface, golf looks peaceful. A rolling green course, birds chirping, a quiet swing followed by a slow walk toward the ball. But if you have played even a single round, you know that golf has a way of revealing your soul.
It is humbling. It is frustrating. It is beautiful. And over time, it becomes something more than a game. For me, golf has become a kind of spiritual companion. The fairway has taught me lessons I didn’t expect. It has shaped how I deal with pressure, how I respond to failure, and how I find grace in the middle of imperfect days.
Patience Is the Real Skill
When I was younger, I thought golf was about power and precision. Hit the ball far and straight. Get to the green quickly. Sink the putt. But the longer I play, the more I realize that patience is what separates a good day from a hard one.
Golf asks you to take your time. You cannot rush a swing or force a result. The more you grip the club in frustration, the worse your shot tends to be. You have to pause. Breathe. Reset.
That lesson has stayed with me outside of golf too. In church leadership, in family life, in moments when emotions run high, I often think back to a quiet tee box. Patience gives space for perspective. It helps us respond instead of react. And over time, it builds resilience.
You Will Fail, and That’s Part of It
Anyone who plays golf knows what it feels like to have a hole completely fall apart. You shank a drive, chunk an iron shot, lip out a putt, and suddenly you’re looking at a double bogey or worse. And no matter how well you played the hole before, that one bad score follows you.
The hardest part is not letting that one hole ruin the rest of your round.
That challenge mirrors real life. We all make mistakes. We all have moments that spiral. We say the wrong thing, make the wrong call, lose our temper, or fall short of what we hoped to do. In those moments, spiritual resilience is about how you recover.
Do you carry the shame with you to the next hole? Or do you take a deep breath and say, “That one’s behind me. Let’s move on.” The best golfers, and the most grounded people I know, are the ones who learn how to reset without losing their rhythm.
Forgiveness and Starting Over
One of the quiet graces of golf is that every hole offers a fresh start. It does not matter what happened on hole three when you step up to the tee on hole four. The game invites you to begin again. To try something new. To give yourself another chance.
That kind of rhythm has taught me a lot about forgiveness. Not just toward others but toward myself. I have had days where I beat myself up after a poor round. But I have also had days where I chose to enjoy the walk, let go of the bad shots, and keep playing.
Church life is like that too. We do our best. We try to serve others well. But there are always mistakes and missteps. People forget things. Emotions flare. Plans fall apart. The question is not whether we will mess up. The question is whether we will allow ourselves and each other to begin again with grace.
The Walk Matters More Than the Score
I have played competitive rounds and I have played casual nine-hole evenings with friends. What I have learned over time is that the score fades from memory faster than the conversation. I do not remember the number I shot last April, but I remember the friend I played with and what we talked about on the fifth green. I remember the laugh we had after a terrible sand shot. I remember the quiet peace of a solo round early in the morning.
Golf, like life, is not just about outcomes. It is about presence. Are we paying attention to the people we are with? Are we finding joy in the process? Are we willing to let go of expectations and embrace the moment in front of us?
I think spiritual resilience grows when we stop measuring our days by success and start noticing the goodness around us. Even when the score is not perfect.
The Fairway as a Teacher
I never set out to find life lessons in golf. I started playing because I enjoyed the game and the time outdoors. But over the years, I have realized that golf teaches me how to live with more grace.
It teaches me to slow down and stay present.
It teaches me to own my mistakes and move on.
It teaches me to start over and keep showing up.
It teaches me that life is better when I stop chasing perfection and focus on connection, growth, and gratitude.
Those are spiritual lessons. And I have learned them not from books or sermons but from walking fairways, missing putts, and choosing to try again.
What I Carry from the Course
So the next time I find myself frustrated or off track, whether in a meeting, in a relationship, or in my own thoughts, I try to remember the feeling of standing on a tee box after a rough hole. I try to remember that starting over is part of the process. That presence matters more than performance. That grace is always available if I am willing to receive it.
Golf has helped shape my character, my leadership, and even my faith. And for that, I am grateful.
It may be just a game, but on the best days, it feels like something more. It feels like a quiet teacher reminding me how to keep going, one swing, one step, and one moment at a time.