Well, I couldn't get too far down the podcast library before we talked about the elusive hole in one. Now, have I had a hole in one? Is that what you're asking? Well, maybe. But if I had had a hole in one, I can promise you my buddies listening to this podcast are sick of hearing about it. If I had had a hole in one, it would have been on a par three about 212 yards into about a 20 mile an hour wind with a three-wood. If I had a hole in one. Have you had a hole in one? Of course, if you had, you remember. If you've never had a hole in one, we're not laughing at you, we're laughing with you. Stick around. Hey guys, welcome back to Shankatification. My name is Mark, and if you've ever had a hole in one, you remember it. You really remember it. You remember the club, the yardage, the wind, where the pen was, who was there, what hole it was on, what course you were on, what the weather was like, what you were standing over whenever you hit the shot, what you had for breakfast that morning, what you had for dinner that night, uh, what song was playing on the radio on the way home. And if somebody were to ask you about it, forget it. They're about to get a lengthy audible documentary that'll probably last the next six holes that you're walking with them. And honestly, retelling the story becomes almost as fun as the shot itself. And even if you've never had a hole in one, every golfer understands that feeling. That flushed long iron over the water, that impossible putt that somehow dropped, that chip from the bunker that you just can't explain. We replay those moments over and over in our minds. Why? Because they stirred something up in us. They made us feel alive. Golfers often say it's the one shot that keeps you coming back. And I started wondering this week, what happens when we stop replaying the greatest story in our lives? I've been reading Jesus' letters to the church in Revelation, and Jesus' messages are so fascinating because his words are loving, they're corrective, honest, and for a 2,000-year-old letter, they're incredibly relevant. Now, the very first church he writes to out of the seven is a church called Ephesus, beginning in chapter 2. Now, this is important because Ephesus wasn't some terrible church. In fact, Paul in his earlier letters to Ephesus describes them as faithful and loving and spiritually mature. This was a strong church, a respected church, a doctrinally sound church. And yet when Jesus speaks to them in Revelation chapter 2, he says something heartbreaking. In verse 4, he says, You have forsaken the love you had at first. Now think about that. They still had theology, they still had discipline, they still had structure, but something was missing. Passion, wonder, love. Somewhere along the way, their relationship with Jesus became familiar instead of breathtaking. And honestly, I think many of us understand that feeling more than we want to admit. You've probably come across some salty old golfer that's had multiple hole-in-ones. But have you ever noticed how he'll talk about the first hole-in-one different from the other ones that he's had? The first one sounds magical. The tenth one sounds statistical. Somewhere along the way, amazement can slowly turn into expectation. And I wonder if that's what's happening in Ephesus. Not rebellion, not atheism, not hatred towards God, just familiarity. Grace became common. The cross became assumed. The story stopped stunning them. And maybe that happens to us too. When you first came to Christ, you couldn't stop talking about it. You told your family, your friends, your coworkers, anybody that would listen. You wanted everybody to know what Jesus had done for you. You prayed differently, you worshiped differently. You read scripture with hunger. There was an excitement, an urgency, a wonder. You remembered what it felt like to be forgiven. But over time, life happens. Routine happens. Church becomes a habit. Faith becomes informational instead of transformational. And slowly, without even realizing it, we stop replaying the story. We stop talking about the story. What's fascinating is golfers instinctively understand the power of remembering. We replay great shots constantly. We relive the sounds, the flight, the emotion, the moment. Why? Because remembering rekindles joy. Retelling deepens affection. The story stays alive because we keep revisiting it. And maybe spiritually we've stopped revisiting the greatest moment of all. Maybe we've stopped sitting in awe of grace. Maybe we've stopped reflecting on what Jesus actually rescued us from. Because when grace becomes theoretical, love becomes cold. That's what happened in Ephesus. Not overnight, just slowly, quietly, subtly. And honestly, that's usually how spiritual drift happens. Nobody wakes up one morning and says, I want to lose my passion for Jesus. It happens gradually, one distracted season at a time. But here's what's beautiful. Jesus doesn't just diagnose the problem. He gives the remedy. And it's surprisingly simple. He says in verse 5, Repent and do the things you did at first. Two things. Number one, repent. Number two, remember. Repent means recognizing drift and turning back from it. Not guilt, not shame, just turning back. And then Jesus says, Do the things you did at first. That requires remembering. What did you do at first? For me, I remember immediately wanting to tell people. I remember talking to my parents, my friends, my co-workers. I remember wanting people to understand who Jesus was and what salvation meant. There was a zeal. And if I'm being honest, that zeal fades away if we're not careful. Not because Jesus becomes less beautiful, but because familiarity can dull wonder. I think one of the most dangerous things in Christianity is becoming overly familiar with grace. We hear the cross and salvation and mercy, forgiveness so often that we stop trembling at what they actually mean. The creator of the universe stepped into human history to rescue sinners. That should never become mundane. And yet somehow, we can passionately replay the golf shop from 15 years ago while barely reflecting on the moment Christ changed our eternity. That convicts me. Because some of us golfers can replay finite passions constantly, but some of us Christians often forget infinite grace. I don't think Jesus was angry at Ephesus as much as he was grieved, because love had cooled where intimacy once existed. And maybe some of us listening today are there too. Still attending church, still believing the right things, still doing religious activities, but missing wonder, missing affection, closeness, joy. And Jesus lovingly says, Come back. Not try harder, not perform better, just come back. Return to your first love. Maybe today the invitation is simply this: replay the story again. Remember who you were, what Jesus rescued you from, what forgiveness felt like, what grace meant when it first overwhelmed your heart. Because golfers understand something important. The shots we revisit are the ones we cherish. And perhaps the reason some of our passion has faded is because we stopped revisiting the greatest story we've ever been given. This is Mark. This is Shankation, and this is a reminder to start remembering and retelling your story and to keep chasing better.