Not too long ago, when I could perpetuate my malaise no longer, when Pavlovian responses ran out and beliefs vacated experience and observation, when self-banished from God by decisions emptying me of all spirit, God, by His hand allowed me to peer into an eternal place. Absent light and warmth, this black abyss called but for my soul to be alone - forever. God is more real at the edge of hell, a light so much brighter in darkness.
If before this moment, someone knew me as Martin and June’s youngest of four (the baby), weaned on peanut butter, tagged with the nicknames Deacon and Charlie Brown; matriculating, playing on the golf team, and graduating from Furman University; landing an assistant golf professional position at Scioto Country Club after starting as caddy master, then Cherokee Town and Country Club, and next, becoming the head golf professional at Melrose on Daufuskie Island, then moving on to The Farm Golf Club in Northwest Georgia, I would agree. Each was a result of my intent. The outline, though true, would miss the frame of who I am becoming in its aftermath.
Along the way, angels appeared. First, Nancy, my bride, then Blake, Sarah, and Lizzie, joys from heaven with the same last name, all keeping my feet attached to earth. Then, Blake asked for Joy's hand, Sarah married Kyle and, a few years later, she birthed a little bit named August Ann.
My friend tells me golf professionals are failures. True in the sense we dreamed of being professional golfers, and as cloudy as the dream may have been, we settled and became defined as club professionals. But God doesn’t wish for us to settle into some role we carve for ourselves or be defined by someone other than Him. He wishes more, even wills more if we are to become His servant, even turn from our intent and follow His lead, even become a writer and a blogger.
Standing on the edge of that abyss, rejecting the hell God revealed to me, His spirit enlightened me with a perspective not known to me before. This blog is the continuing story of that perspective. I cannot claim it. It belongs to God and in joy, I share it with you. My promise is I will never try to explain or make an oral argument. Stumbling sometimes into that perspective and wondering about it all, I do not offer answers, like you, only questions. If we are alike (and we are), maybe you have wondered, too.
Pray About It
"I can no longer condemn or hate a brother for whom I pray." Dietrich Bonhoeffer