That's A Wrap

The nature and character of an ending is best framed  by a proper understanding of its beginning. The ending I prepare to experience today is an awkward one, one that struggles to finds its proper context. It had its genesis in my desire to be an involved father, but it evolved to include much more.

I was a rather unlikely candidate to become a golf coach. My greatest and only qualification was that I simply came out to watch my oldest son play the sport. I came to every tournament, making five or six consecutive decisions that it was more critical to watch him compete that day in golf than it was for me to spend the afternoon attempting to sell commercial real estate.

So it seems that quality, plus a valid driver's license, made me the most likely candidate to take over a fledgling little squad of homeschooled golfers on this newly formed team put together by a football coach at Christ Preparatory Academy. That football coach, Jim Cook, one day at a golf tournament in Horton, Kansas,  told me he had to get back to Kansas City and wondered if I could take all of the boys back home.

That was my audition. The simple act of driving a minivan back from Horton, Kansas and returning four boys to civilization prompted Coach Cook to ask me to take over the team the following year. He explained to me: "I like to start sports programs then hand them off to other people." If he'd been honest, he would have added: "And you're the only person I can find who doesn't appear to have anything else to do."

And so I became the golf coach at Christ Prep, and so began a nine season run that concludes today. It didn't really seem to be a beginning because it didn't really seem like I was a coach. If truth be told, I was better qualified to coach baseball or football. I knew how to teach kids to throw and to catch and kick and punt, but teaching someone the art of swinging a golf club and making square contact with a golf ball and propelling it anywhere in the general vicinity of its intended target seemed more complicated to me than explaining differential equations.  If you had watched me play then (or now--especially now), you would have not wanted to entrust your son or daughter to my care.

But I wanted to be involved in my son's life, and I had steered all of my kids toward golf because I thought it was something we could play together our entire lives. One of golf's greatest characteristics is the multi-generational participation it allows. Coaching my kids' high school team seemed like the best way to get that going. Plus, when you choose a less conventional form of education you are always nagged by a subtle guilt that you have deprived your children of experiences like sports that are available to children in the mainstream. What better way, then, to provide our kids opportunities than to be the architect of them?

So I set out with my paltry golf resume and big plans for my children and their friends and I decided to be the best scheduler of golf tournaments I could be and the best van driver to those golf tournaments that anyone could ever hope for. Along the way, with all those good families and all those good kids, we gradually built a team that was a force to be reckoned with. We won tournaments against much larger schools and placed kids in college programs at virtually every level. This was not something I did, but I believe the Lord blessed the collective efforts of kids and families and Christ Prep as our sponsoring Christian school.

I came slowly to accept the moniker of "Coach." At first seemed fraudulent to me. But I eventually embraced it as a demonstration of respect. Then I saw it for what it really was--a term of endearment.

I could wax on about all of our golf accomplishments over the years and I could tell stories of violations to the game of golf that I witnessed--acts of defilement that would make Old Tom Morris (and maybe Young Tom Morris) roll over in his grave.

But to properly define today's ending, and to look properly backward at its beginning, I look to the lessons that will not be forgotten. Although many called me "Coach" and looked to me for guidance, they taught me more than I taught them. Character came alive in dozens of little decisions that were made when no one was watching. A penalty self-assessed here...an encouraging word to a competitor there. And I was continually treated with grace from my charges. They knew they were not getting Butch Harmon when they signed up for my team, but occasionally they humored me and treated me like I was.

Grace came alive through them and through the game itself. I (and others) have always said that golf is a microcosm of life. Every human emotion can be experienced as one traverses throughout the 18 holes of a golf course. Pinnacles and nadirs are swapped with every swing of the club. It is very much a depiction of the gospel, as law and grace wage war both in our minds and upon the breathtakingly beautiful links themselves.

But as with the gospel, on the golf course grace wins out. Grace always wins out, because we always come back to play again. We come back seeking the perfection that alludes us. But when perfection inevitably does allude us, we run to and cling to the grace that we do not deserve. And it is through this game I've seen most vividly that perfection can only be found in Jesus.

And then there are my children. With my coaching career over, they still remain. It is my heartfelt prayer that in my role as golf coach I didn't do any irreparable damage to them.  I remember a couple of years ago during one particularly stressful time I asked Phoebe: "Would you rather I be your dad, or your golf coach, because I'm not doing a very good job of either right now." As always, she was gracious, as were Davis and Timothy during other times.

My children were the reason I started coaching golf, and they are the reason I'm finishing today. Not all of my children love golf as much as I do, and I've learned that this is not only okay, but it is good. I look forward to developing other passions to share with my children. Passions that spring from them and are not foisted upon them by me. I'm hoping and praying the years ahead will provide margin for this.

Beginnings don't have to be that clear cut. God always know where they are heading. He sees the unseen and is working it out for the good of those who love him and are called according to his purposes (II Corinthians 4:18; Romans 8:28).

May we seek perfection in golf, and in life, only through Jesus. This is the only Context worth looking for.