Many say the drive is the most exciting shot in golf. I say the accuracy and variability of the approach is far superior.
Though theology is more like the approach, our temptation is often to swing like a drive.

Saturday, May 17, 2008

The Approach

I came across this article – "The Drive to Drive" - last week in the midst of studying for final exams. Its thesis is that in golf the most exhilarating shot is the drive, primarily because of the raw power of the shot. As a golfer, I had to question this veteran journalist's assessment. As a younger man, I would have agreed that there was nothing like seeing a 300 yard drive fly from the tee (though with older technology I'm not sure I ever hit a 300 yard drive). But as I have improved my game I can say without question that the approach shot is far more satisfying (when hit well) than crushing a drive. The feeling of the ball leaving a cleanly hit iron shot, and then tracing a path toward the pin, dropping near the flag with enough spin to make it pull back slightly… it is just a thrill. It is both powerful and gentle. It feels like you are making the golf ball dance with the flagstick.

But I think the best thing about the approach shot is that there is a very specific target you are shooting for. With the drive, you can get it in the ballpark and be alright. Not so with the approach. If you're a little off, two putts and a par. If you're just a little farther off, probably chip/sand and two putts. If you're a golfer, I think you know what I mean. (Golfers – please tell me what you think.)

I found this article worth blogging about because there seem to be some parallels to the way most of us approach the study of Scripture and theology. We want to hit the biggest drive possible, so we take a big whack at it and see where it goes. But theology is a lot more like an approach shot, and the correct understanding of Scripture is like the flagstick we're aiming for. There is both power and finesse involved. And there is a confidence that comes over time (and much practice). Don't hear me wrong, I'm not saying that because I've been to seminary I have the necessary practice or expertise. What I am saying, is that there is a correct interpretation to Scripture, and it is something we aim at – like aiming at the flagstick. And the way we approach Scripture is very important. It is also quite exhilarating.

One of the most important lessons for me from seminary has come from watching the approach that New Testament authors have taken in interpreting and applying Old Testament Scriptures. They do so with an amazing knowledge of the Old Testament, and they cite it often (read through the footnoted OT references next time you have a devotional). I used to think that Paul, Peter, John, and even Jesus, took the Old Testament and just kind-of tweaked it where it was convenient to do so. My problem (not theirs) was that I didn't know the Old Testament very well. And that was a big problem. I am becoming convinced that if I don't know the Old Testament, it is impossible to understand the New Testament.

But it can be challenging to read the Old Testament. Granted, some stories are interesting. But the description of the Temple and the Levitical laws (Exodus 25 – Leviticus) is just tough to get through. I have to confess that last semester I read all the way through that section for the first time… and it floored me. Never before had I seen God as being that holy. And seeing God as that holy gave new meaning to the salvation that is made full by Christ's atoning work. It is a humbling experience to approach the God whose glory was so great that after Moses had stood before him the people could not even look on Moses' face. But that same God came to dwell among his people in the wilderness, and in Jerusalem. And that same God continues to dwell among his people, still holy, and still redeeming his people.

When we approach God, in prayer, in study of Scripture, in preaching – it seems to me that we can learn something from the Tabernacle and from golf. As the Israelites would approach the Tabernacle, they would be reverent, yet expectant, exhilarated, yet sobered by their iniquities. As the golfer hits his approach shot, he/she is expectant, yet sobered by his abilities. As we approach theology, we should be expectant (because Christ has torn down the curtain), but we should also be sobered by the fact that we are shooting at a flagstick that none of us has the skill to hit. But that doesn't make the approach any less exhilarating.