The Embrace

It was a small, seemingly insignificant moment, but, as I positioned my chair for an afternoon of watching The Masters, I saw Jordan Spieth’s mother reach for her son as he made his way to the first tee, hug him, and, no doubt, wish him well.

It was a poignant moment, one that reminded me this amazing golfer was also son. With all of his talent and early success, he is now seen differently – as golf prodigy, the next-greatest, the one to shatter all records – and beginning his final round in the lead, his chance to be a repeat winner at the age of 22 was all the commentators talked about. The embrace by his mother, however, broke through all the accolades and reminded me he was a son setting off to play a game he loves.

For those who didn’t watch The Masters, Spieth excelled on the front nine, but fell apart on one hole on the back. In front of millions, he lost the tournament in minutes. It was heartbreaking to watch, and all week I thought about him, the meltdown, but also the embrace from his mother.

It is so easy to understand and celebrate the embrace of a parent as a child heads off to do whatever it is he or she sets off to do. “You’re my beloved,” we can almost hear the parent whisper, “now go do what you were created to do.” If Hollywood had its way, an amazing song would begin and the child would experience incredible success, all in front of an adoring crowd.

But the truth is, Hollywood does not always have its way, the scripts or scenes of our lives do not always end with cheering crowds. Then what?

Try as hard as I did, I never saw the moment when Spieth and his mom saw each other after the round. My hunch is the embrace was waiting, it was probably tighter and longer, but the camera didn’t film it. It’s not an embrace as easily captured, nor understood.

I wonder if the same isn’t true of our lives of faith. Being a child of God, feeling God’s embrace as we set off to do the work we were given to do, is something we often celebrate on Sundays. Too often, I confess, I approached Church as a time of preparation for the week ahead, of getting my embrace and “go-get-‘em” before heading off for the week, but what happens when the music doesn’t play? What happens when we don’t pull off the amazing record-setting performance? What happens when the crowd walks away?

Although rarely captured by cameras, nor talked about (or offered) by ministers and people alike, God's embrace is still available. In my heart, I trust arms await, and the embrace will be tighter and longer in the end. That’s what I hope Spieth found, and it’s what I hope you and I will find one day as well.