Augusta National Golf Course. It is overrated. You heard me right, it's overrated. Now before you turn this off, just give me a few minutes and let me explain and see if you agree with my argument. Hey friends, and welcome back to another episode of Shanktification. Augusta National Golf Course might be the most beautiful place on earth. The fairways are perfect, the greens are flawless, the colors don't even look real. The azaleas and the dogwoods are always in bloom at the Masters. There's no blades of grass out of place. They don't call it the rough, they call it the second cut. There's no fans at the Masters, they call them patrons. They don't call it the back nine, they call it the second nine. There's even an underground tunnel system that weaves through the whole entire golf course, like a little human ant form under there, just to keep the maintenance and the flow going perfectly. Every April during the Masters, it is must-see TV for me and most of you. And I'm look, I'm a nerd. I've got t-shirts, hats, hoodies, uh, pullovers, flags, ball markers. I've even got a pair of masters shoes that I only wear during the week of the masters that are all colored and flowery and perfect looking. I think I've got an entire week of Masters paraphernalia that you can only buy at Augusta National Golf Course that I wear during that one week in April. So I don't say this lightly, but every April we watch the Masters Tournament and think, that's it. That is perfect. But it's not. And not only is it not perfect, it's overrated. Augusta National looks perfect, but it's not natural. It's managed. Every inch is controlled, from the watering to the trimming to the correction. There's even a sub-air system under each green, a multi-layered computer, I guess, that basically controls the wetness, the dryness, the cold, the warmth. They control that thing however they want to. They manipulate Mother Nature to make it look as beautiful as it is. In fact, it's also closed between April and October just so they can manage it even more. But left alone, it doesn't stay that way. It drifts, it breaks down, it loses its shape. So what we're calling perfection is really just constant intervention. But let's go deeper. The problem isn't that Augusta needs maintenance. The problem is that it exists in a world that's broken. Romans 8 says, We know for the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. So it's it's not struggling a little bit, it's not slightly off, it's groaning. It's interesting that Paul uses the term pains of childbirth. I think we're all pretty familiar with what that means. The closer we get to the end of pregnancy, the contractions become harder, they become more frequent, they become more painful. But we know at the end of that pain there is something beautiful that comes. And I think that's what creation is doing. They're groaning in pain because they're yearning for what comes after it. They're yearning for the beautiful perfection. For you guys out there that are a little more familiar with Home Depot than you are delivery room, think of it this way. It's like a house that looks perfect on the outside. Fresh paint, clean lines, everything is in place, but the foundation is cracking. At first, we don't see it, then slowly the doors stop closing correctly, the walls begin to shift around, and a lot of things just fall out of alignment. The issue isn't cosmetic, it's structural. That is the world we live in. And Augusta, no matter how beautiful, is sitting on that same cracked foundation. But you can't fix a foundation with landscaping. You can edge it, you can water it, you can put nice furniture in it, you can do all the cool things that your wife is probably out shopping for to make your house look pretty, but it's still fractured, it's still straining, it's still groaning. That's why nothing stays perfect. Not golf courses, careers, bodies, relationships, everything drifts, everything breaks down, everything reminds us this isn't how it's supposed to be. And here's the part we don't like to admit. The second part of that sentence in Romans 8.23 says, We grown too, not only so, but we ourselves, who are the first fruits of the Spirit, grown inwardly as we await eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies. There's something in us that feels the same tension. This is beautiful, but it's not enough. This is good, but it's not complete. This is enjoyable, but it's not lasting. Even in the best moments, there's a quiet awareness that says, There's something missing. And that's not a flaw in us, that's a signal. Or in fact, it's probably a siren we've just learned to dull over time. Augusta National is the best we can produce, and even at its best, it still requires constant correction just to hold the illusion together. That's why it's overrated. Not because it's not beautiful, but because we treat it like it's ultimate, and it's not even close. In 1 Corinthians 2 9, Paul says, No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no human mind has conceived the things that God has prepared for those who love him. Think about that. No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined what God has prepared. Which means take Augusta at its absolute peak. Remove the decay, remove the time, remove the maintenance, remove the brokenness, and then multiply that beyond anything you can conceive. And you're still not there. Because what's coming isn't improved, it's restored. No cracks in the foundation, no drift, no groaning. So yeah, Augusta National is incredible, but overrated? Absolutely. Because even the most beautiful place on earth is still on a broken foundation, but not forever. Now, if by chance anyone at Augusta National has listened to this podcast and you would like me to defend my argument and send me out there and let me play the course firsthand, I will gladly accept. And in the meantime, thank you for joining us. My name is Mark. This is Shankatification and a reminder to keep chasing better.