Welcome again, dear reader, to this humble chronicle of my day-to-day walk of faith. Now, you might think that a priest on vacation has little of theological merit to say—after all, there are no sermons to write, no pastoral calls to make, no altar to set. But in truth, that is perhaps one of the most important lessons any of us can learn: God is present not only in the soaring sanctuaries and sacred liturgies but also in the ordinary, sometimes absurd, moments of daily life.
Vacation has reminded me of this in spades—or perhaps I should say, in nine-irons. The week began with a family reunion, where food and laughter flowed more abundantly than the iced tea (and that is saying something). Then it carried on with four rounds of golf with friends. Now, one might suppose that a golf course is a strange place to find spiritual insight. But I assure you, there are few places that teach humility, patience, and the need for divine grace quite as efficiently as the eighteenth hole—especially if you, like me, tend to visit the sand traps as often as the fairways.
In fact, I am convinced that golf may be the perfect metaphor for the spiritual life. Every shot is a chance to start again. Every lost ball (and I have contributed generously to the golf course economy in this regard) is a reminder of the parable of the lost sheep—only in this case, the shepherd rarely finds the missing one. And every unexpected putt that actually drops is a quiet miracle, proof that grace abounds even when our skill does not.
So, whether in church or on the course, around the reunion table or in the silence of prayer, God is there. The truth is simple but profound: the sacred and the ordinary are never far apart. For those with eyes to see, the whole of life shimmers with the presence of Christ—even on vacation, and yes, even on the back nine.