Posts Tagged With: Golf

Today’s find: Golf lessons

Posted on October 5, 2025 by John Schroeder

Funny game, golf.

Categories: Uncategorized | Tags: 2 Timothy, 27th Sunday In Ordinary Time, bible, christianity, faith, God, Golf, Golf lessons, Gospel, Gospel of Luke, Habakkuk, Jesus, sawbuck, unprofitable servant

Today’s find: Solid contact

Posted on May 18, 2025 by John Schroeder

A few minutes past 2:00 PM, there was little reason to believe we’d be getting a round in on Friday. In fact, any sane person would have scanned the ominous sky and headed for home. But golfers, it seems, are not entirely sane.

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Categories: Uncategorized | Tags: Boone Valley, Click Stick, faith, Fifth Sunday of Easter, Golf, golfing, Jesus, Revelation, Solid contact, sports, Swing Thought, Thomas Merton

Today’s find: Weight of glory

Posted on June 9, 2024 by John Schroeder

Tough it was, nearly a physical burden, to answer the bell on Saturday morning.

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Categories: Uncategorized | Tags: 2 Corinthians, Golf, Golf League, Kairos Prison Ministry, Menard Correctional Center, Pickle ball, Tenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Weight of Glory

Today’s find: Secrets of the dead

Posted on January 28, 2024 by John Schroeder

I’ve been feeling an odd sort of pressure for the past day or two – a compulsion to write something beautiful about Dad.

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Categories: Uncategorized | Tags: 100th Birthday, Dad, Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Golf, Prophet, Prophet Not Politician, Secrets of the Dead

Today’s find: Essential equipment

Posted on April 17, 2021 by John Schroeder

Golf may perhaps be more than a game – at least in the case of my weak-willed spirit.

For golf, it seems, has a way of teaching me about certain spiritual defects, such as vanity.

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Categories: Uncategorized | Tags: Driver, Essential Equipment, Golf, Links to LaSalle, Resteck, Third Sunday of Easter

Today’s find: 4-Irony

Posted on October 10, 2020 by John Schroeder

Here’s a great irony: I love to play a game – golf – that I am only marginally competent at playing.

And then there’s this: With each passing year, it seems, I surrender a bit more of my (already congenitally-limited) skills to time’s relentless march.

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