My son-in-law, who's been playing golf for a few years now, asked me a question the other day. He said, Have you ever been the first one out in the morning on a golf course? And I've been playing for a long time, and of course I have. He said, It just seems magical. I said, Well, it's it's pretty cool. So for a while now I've been thinking, what makes it so magical? It took me a couple of months, and now I'm ready to record this podcast and tell you why there's so much appeal to that first tea time. Hey friends, this is Mark, and this is Shanktification. Thanks for joining us. And if you've ever had the first tea time of the day, you know how special it is. You know exactly what I'm talking about. There's something special about pulling into the parking lot while it's still dark. The clubhouse lights are on, but the sun hasn't even made an appearance. The air is cool, the kind of cool that feels refreshing rather than uncomfortable. You may even need a pullover for the first few holes. You can smell freshly cut grass before you can even see much of the golf course. As you make your way to the first tea, the world feels different. The birds are just beginning to wake up, the maintenance crew is finishing up their work, the dew still lays on the fairways in the greens, untouched by carts or footprints or golf balls, and then you step foot onto the first tea box. For a moment it feels like you've been given access to something few people ever experience. The course stretches out in front of you, quiet and still. There are no groups ahead of you, no one waiting behind you, no phones ringing, no meetings to attend, no deadlines demanding your attention. It's just you, the golf course, and the morning. As I was thinking back to my son-in-law's question, I wonder why I love those early tea times so much. Certainly part of it is the golf, but I don't think that's the whole story. Because if I'm being honest, some of my favorite moments happened before I ever hit a shot. Standing on that first tea with a fresh cup of coffee in hand, watching the sunrise begin to paint the sky, feeling the cool air on my face, listening to the silence. The golf is wonderful, but what my soul seems to crave is the peace. And the more I've thought about it, the more I've realized that those quiet mornings remind me of something I see throughout the life of Jesus. Jesus spent a surprising amount of time alone. When you read the Gospels, you discover that he was constantly surrounded by people. Crowds followed him everywhere. People wanted his attention, they needed healing, they needed answers, they needed hope. Yet over and over again, Jesus intentionally steps away from all of it. One of my favorite examples is found in Mark 135. It says, Very early in the morning while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house, and went off to a solitary place where he prayed. I love that detail while it was still dark. Before the crowds arrived, before the requests started coming in, before the demands of the day took over. Jesus sought solitude. Not occasionally, but regularly. And that's what's fascinating to me because if anyone had a legitimate excuse to stay busy, it was Jesus. People genuinely needed him. Lives were being changed. Ministry was happening everywhere he went. Yet he continually made time to be alone with his father. If Jesus needed that kind of solitude, what makes us think we don't? The truth is most of us live in a world that makes solitude increasingly rare. Every spare moment gets filled with something. We're driving, so we turn on the radio. We're standing in line, so we check our phones. We're exercising, so we put in earbuds. We're sitting in the waiting room, so we scroll social media. We've become experts at eliminating silence from our lives. And maybe we've done it for so long that silence now feels uncomfortable. When everything gets quiet, something interesting happens. Our thoughts we've been outrunning catch up to us. The worries we've managed to suppress start resurfacing. The questions we've been avoiding suddenly become harder to ignore. Silence has a way of exposing what's really happening inside of us. And maybe that's one reason we avoid it. Because noise can distract us from ourselves. Or maybe we've turned the noise into a hiding place. But solitude, it doesn't allow for that. It invites us to slow down long enough to see what's really going on beneath the surface. I think that's part of why alone time with God can feel challenging. Not because God is difficult to be with, but because stillness forces us to be honest. Honest about our fears, honest about our struggles, honest about our need for Him. Yep, that honesty is exactly where transformation begins. Psalm 4610 says, Be still and know that I am God. That's a verse many of us know, but I'm not sure many of us actually practice it. Because stillness isn't something our culture values very highly. We celebrate productivity, we celebrate efficiency, we celebrate hustle. But stillness often feels unproductive. And yet God seems to place an enormous value on it. Because stillness creates space. Space to listen, to notice, to pray, space to remember that we're not the ones holding the world together. That's the one thing I love most about those early morning rounds. For a few hours, the world stops demanding things from me. The emails can wait, the phone calls can wait, the responsibilities can wait. And in that quiet, I begin to notice things I usually miss. The colors of the sunrise, the beauty of creation, the faithfulness of just another day, the presence of God. It's amazing how much easier it is to notice God when everything else gets quieter. Not because God suddenly becomes more present, but because we're finally paying attention. The reality is that God often speaks in whispers rather than megaphones. Not because he lacks power, but because whispers require closeness. And closeness requires time. Nobody accidentally develops intimacy with God. Just like nobody accidentally ends up with the first tea time of the day. You set the alarm, you get out of bed when you'd rather stay under the covers. You make the effort. You decide what awaits you is worth the inconvenience. The same is true in spirituality. Meaningful time with God rarely happens by accident. It happens when we intentionally create space for it. When we choose quiet over noise, presence over distraction, stillness over constant activity. And maybe that's the invitation for all of us today. Not necessarily to wake up at dawn tomorrow, not necessarily to spend hours in prayer, but simply to create a little bit of room. A few minutes without a screen. A walk without earbuds. A cup of coffee on the porch before the day begins. A moment to be still. A moment to listen. A moment to remember that God is already there. Because maybe the reason those first tea times feel so magical isn't that we have the course all to ourselves. Maybe it's because for a brief moment we're experiencing something our souls were designed for. A slower pace and a quieter mind, a deeper awareness of God's presence. And that's maybe exactly why Jesus kept seeking lonely places. Not because he was running away from his people, but because he was running towards his father. So here's my challenge to my son-in-law, and maybe you too. Try to book a sunrise tea time sometime this summer, just once. Go alone or go with another person who gets it. By 8 a.m. the dew burns off, the course fills up, the carts start rolling in, and the music comes on in the clubhouse. The world wakes up and takes over like it always does. But for that one hour, that golden, quiet, and possibly still hour before it all begins, the fairway belongs to the person who showed up early enough to receive it. Thanks for joining me for another episode of Shantification. My name is Mark, and thank you for listening to this podcast. Thank you for sharing it. Thanks for all your support, all the great things that I've heard from you guys. This is a lot of fun, and I hope you're getting something out of it. So until next time, enjoy that early tea time. And remember, God can teach us a lot even before the first shot of the day. And as always, keep chasing better.