Charity golf outings are often some of my favorite events of summer. I always enjoy networking with new people, trying challenging courses and, of course, simply relaxing and having a good time. On one occasion I was invited to play in a charity outing benefitting the Sisters of St. Francis. I was paired with some men whom I did not know very well but were pleasant and good players.

On one of the par 3s, the sisters sponsored a contest to win a car on a hole-in-one. Several of the sisters came out in habits in golf carts to watch the contest near the green. I sadly was not even close.

One of our players hit a beautiful shot right toward the flag. We felt pretty good about his chances until the ball started to fade right — right toward the sisters in the cart. “Sisters! Fore!” he yelled. “Please, Sisters, duck,” he screamed.

We heard a thud as the ball clanged off the top of their cart. “I killed them,” the man shouted as he started to cry. “I think I hit them.”

He began to run toward their cart shouting, “Oh sisters! I am so sorry! I don’t go to Mass much, but I always loved the sisters!”

The nuns in the cart laughed hysterically as they were unharmed and amused that they were part of the action.

“It’s OK, sir,” they told him, “but get back to church!”

The man actually did! He told me several weeks later that he confessed to almost maiming the nuns and made church part of his weekly practice. I guess going astray was instrumental to leading him home.

I am sure that many of us in ministry have had an encounter of people finding their way to Church through hardship or struggle. Perhaps we have found many prodigal children who discover the light of Christ or have it reawakened. St. Padre Pio said it best: “It is by means of trials that God binds to him the souls he loves.”

A woman at a school where I was a chaplain asked me once if it was okay to be angry with God.

“Well,” I asked her. “Are you ever angry with your husband or children?”

“Yes,” she replied.

“Do you still talk to them and love them when you are?” I asked her.

“It depends on the day, but, yes, I do,” she replied.

Suddenly, a light bulb went off for her. “My relationship with God is like that,” she triumphantly answered, “and I do not have to go to stay with my sister when it’s too much!” Her assessment hopefully benefitted her time with God, and her sister, as well.

Our faults and flaws allow us to reflect upon our humanity and realize our dependence on God and his people. My grandfather was a jack-of-all-trades who was able to do carpentry, plumbing, roofing and virtually any job around the house. He had a neighbor who was trying to put a roof on, but was rather unsuccessful. My grandfather offered his services, but the man was too proud to accept. Finally, as he told the story, the man’s wife dragged him over in the evening like a small child berating him to ask for help. That poor man never hesitated afterward to ask for assistance. He either learned a lesson in humility — or in fear of his wife. However, the men became good friends.

St. Thérèse of Lisieux knew very well how the Lord uses our imperfections for his glory. “What joy to remember that our Lord is just, that he makes allowances for all our shortcomings, and knows full well how weak we are” (“Story of a Soul,” chapter 8).

It has been some time since I have golfed with my charity-outing friends, but I do think they still play in the sisters’ outing every year. Faith is a journey that is seldom painted with straight lines. Instead, it truly takes being open to the movement of the Holy Spirit and docile to God’s love to guide it. That can come in many forms — a leaky roof, family discord or even a group of religious hiding in a golf cart. 

FATHER MICHAEL ACKERMAN is the pastor at Resurrection Parish, Bethel Park, Pennsylvania, and chaplain at Seton LaSalle Catholic High School in Pittsburgh.