Boomers Mulligans

The Jolt

Cyborg Pilgrim

"Come near to God and he will come near to you." (James 4:8a)

Physical therapy progressed, and I began to see real improvements in my range of motion and strength in my left arm after seeing Jesus. I was able to drive again, although my left arm was still encased in a contraption that made me look like a character from Mad Max or The Terminator. Looking back, those small markers of progress felt like the first rays of hope after a long night; each step forward was both a relief and a reminder of the journey ahead.

I decided to visit "The Empty Cross" in Kerrville. Symbolically, this cross is no different from the one you might have in a place of honor at home. Physically, though, the Empty Cross stands 77 feet, 7 inches tall, weighs 70 tons, and is made of Cor-ten steel. It’s designed to develop a reddish rust, symbolizing the blood that Christ shed for each of us. I arrived and began climbing the stairs to the bronze sculpture of "The Coming King." Standing next to a likeness of Jesus, I couldn’t help but think of the woman who secretly touched Jesus’ robe and was healed because of her faith: "She came up behind him and touched the edge of his cloak, and immediately her bleeding stopped" (Luke 8:44). In moments like these, memory and reality seem to blend, and the distance between biblical stories and our own becomes almost invisible. Like a cyborg, I lifted my left arm, touched the cool bronze robe with my hand, said a prayer, and thanked Jesus for His ultimate sacrifice.

Bronze Jesus vs. Living Jesus

Standing beside this slightly larger than life reflection of Christ, my own pain and sufferings seemed so insignificant that I could hardly ask for His help. His Word says, "The Lord upholds the righteous, but the arms of the wicked he breaks" (Psalm 37:17), and I was certainly qualified from that perspective—I deserved "The Fall" and now here I was, touching a bronze symbol that represents Jesus. It struck me then: physical symbols, no matter how grand, can only go so far. The true presence of Jesus can never be molded by human hands. No statue of bronze, no matter how skillfully crafted, can match the image I saw of Him on my patio during “Heavenly Rise.” The bronze Jesus is cold and lifeless, but the Jesus I saw radiated life and love.

The Message

I turned to face the towering Empty Cross and began walking, considering the scripture verses that were inscribed in pavers on the sidewalk leading to the cross. With each step, I found myself searching for guidance, almost expecting a sign—a habit I’d carried since my earliest spiritual nudges. As I approached, I recognized one of the chaplains who serve The Coming King. We began talking, and he said, “One of the other chaplains has a message for you.” Another man with a distinctive red apron approached, greeted me, and said, “I feel led to share a message that I received for you.” Full disclosure: by this time, my arm was throbbing, and I could feel the pain-induced "grumpy" shadow of me starting to creep in. Sometimes it seems that when God wants your attention, He waits until you’re at your least heroic—hurting, distracted, just looking for relief.

“What’s the message?” I asked. He said, “Come with me.” He led me, and we stood inside the Empty Cross. Imagine standing inside a 77' 7'' cross and looking up to heaven. Standing there, encased by steel and sky, I couldn’t help but sense a spiritual charge in the air—a pause before something unseen. He said, “God wants you to place both of your hands on the cross like this…” He placed both of his hands on the structure at about head height. I nodded. As he stepped back, he continued, “God says you will receive a jolt.” With that, he left.

Inside the Cross

I stood, looking at the massive steel structure, and wondered if I could get both hands that high on the cross. I remembered how Jesus stood before me, raised His hands, and waited for me to follow Him. It’s funny how the past and present seem to intersect in moments of sacred challenge; one memory gives you courage for the next step, even when doubts linger. I stepped forward, asked for strength, and placed both hands on the cross at eye level. With my left arm only 50% extended in the contraption, my nose was nearly touching the cross. And here is where it starts getting weird.

The Gentle Shower

I started experiencing a tingling sensation, like tiny drops of water falling on the top of my head. The intensity built, feeling like a gentle shower—standing in your home shower as the water flows over your entire body. These drops, individually and collectively as a stream, were infused with a tingling sensation—not tickling, but still carrying that affectionate quality. As sensations intensified, a part of me wondered if this was the "jolt" I’d been told to expect, or simply my body's reaction to effort and hope. The warm fuzzy feelings of a shower were soon replaced by intense pain in my arm. I thought, “Lord, this doesn’t feel like a jolt to me, but maybe this wonderful feeling is it!”

The Jolt

And then, just as I was about to break contact with the cross with my hands, I felt a JOLT that was like getting a side-kick straight into my undefended sternum. I was literally blasted back three feet! I couldn’t believe it. I thought the cross had been struck by lightning while I was touching it. At that moment, surprise eclipsed everything—logic, expectation, even fear. Spiritual encounters rarely fit the boxes we prepare for them. I looked up in the sky, not thinking about God in heaven, but searching for a change in the weather. Where were those lightning-producing cumulus clouds that nearly fried me? Not there. Not a cloud in the clear blue sky.

Losing My Mind, Coming to My Senses

As I made my way back to the car, I didn’t even look up to see where the chaplains were. I wasn’t in a state of mind to rationally discuss what had just happened. I was even (once again) questioning my sanity. Whenever the line between reality and miracle starts to blur, you can’t help but doubt your own senses—and that’s when faith begins to ask new questions. What I would have once considered impossible or wild flights of imagination in others were becoming more frequent in my life, especially after the fall. I thought of Fritz Perls, founder of Gestalt Therapy, who said, "lose your mind and come to your senses." Perls was all about awareness of the “Now” and closing the gap between the "I" and the "Thou"...that psychological space, the middle zone, between me and you. Reflecting then, it felt like God was deliberately closing the gap between my ordinary perception and His extraordinary presence. I was being nudged out of comfort and into awareness.

In this case, apparently, God wanted to close not only the spiritual gap between the "I AM" and the "i am," but the physical gap as well. Yes, God CAN reach out and touch you! So, if God was asking me to lose my mind and come to my senses, He sure knows how to do it. When God wants to get your attention, He will do it in a way you may never expect. Even now, describing it feels inadequate. Some experiences need time to settle in before they can be understood. But what happens next will begin to make it all come clear.

"Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us." (Ephesians 3:20)

Boomer’s Mulligans

"Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, 'This is the way; walk in it.'" - Isaiah 30:21

As months turned into years, I found myself frequently revisiting the scenes of “The Fall” in memory, even as new challenges unfolded around me. Like looking in the rearview mirror as I drive down the interstate freeway, the events after "The Fall" are likewise receding into the distance. But in the blink of an eye, in my mind's eye, I am back on the pavement after the fall, the Emergency Room, the hospital for left elbow reconstructive surgery, the physical therapy, the pain and suffering. Memory has a way of making old wounds new—past miracles remain vivid, a gift and a challenge.

The images of heavenly rise and seeing Jesus are vivid too, etched into my consciousness and available immediately in my working memory. And The Jolt? Who could forget a gentle rain-like feeling, tickling the top of your head one moment and being blasted with a side-kick to the chest the next? Don’t ask me to try and explain any of this—I can’t. All I can say is that it happened. Sometimes, the best we can do is witness, not explain, and let the evidence of God’s work rest in the mystery. God doesn’t need to offer explanations to us, but He will leave a “calling card” that unmistakably reads, "I AM is Here." When the Creator of the universe chooses to make His presence known, He doesn’t concern Himself with our human expectations, including being grammatically correct.

The Voice in the Park that Wouldn't be Silenced

Life was moving forward. My elbow was healing, and I was getting back into a life that can best be described as "half-stepping." I was consulting again and had some meaningful work with a man who was incarcerated in a Texas State Prison, but I still identified myself as a “retired” university professor. It was as if the best part of my professional life was behind me, and, while I was doing some Christian writing again, that too was feeling stale and mechanical.

It’s odd how easy it is to wear labels from the past, letting growth wait on the sidelines. Stale routines and half-hearted faith creep in slowly. Transitions often aren’t dramatic—they’re a quiet realization that what once fed your soul is now running on autopilot.

The years seemed to blur together—2016 blending into 2020 with the global insanity of the Pandemic. Time felt both compressed and endless, as if I were moving through life underwater. As the world shifted, so did my sense of purpose. Searching for meaning, I found myself listening for God’s voice in the silence.

If I had ever questioned my sanity in the past, I was convinced the world had gone completely mad. After the lockdowns, mask mandates, and social distancing, I went out for a walk at Louise Hays Park in Kerrville, Texas. It was a beautiful day—nothing remarkable except God's perfect composition stretched out on the walking path, curving gently in the distance. The giant cypress trees, full of leaves, lining the Guadalupe River, offered shade and relaxation.

Out of the silence in my calm mind, a voice sounded…Boomer's Mulligans! It arrived as no thunderbolt, just a quiet internal repetition, like a song stuck in your head—amusing but persistent. This was reminiscent of the visual ticker tape message that scrolled across my mind’s eye and kept looping around: “Write about Me and for Me, Your Lord.” Only this message was just two words that repeated in my head…Boomer’s Mulligans.

I walked to a concrete bench near the entrance to the park, seeing the walk/bike path I’d just been on when the voice began. In that moment, I recognized that God often speaks using the language of our own experience—a nudge, a word, a phrase that means everything to us and little to anyone else. I wondered if something had triggered such an unusual word pairing. "Boomer's"...okay, that could identify me as a Baby Boomer based on age and stage of life. "Mulligans"...that familiar golf expression: "I messed up that shot…I'll take a Mulligan, a do-over!"

I smiled at the subtle humor but could sense a seriousness under the playful words. I was enjoying the feeling, but like a new song you love, after a while, you can’t get it out of your head. Boomer's Mulligans was getting like that as I walked back to my car, trying to think about anything except those two words. God seems to know how to get your attention—He uses both whispers and echoes, refusing to be ignored. The more I wanted to turn it off, the more the voice in the park refused to be silenced. Clearly, God once again needed to get my attention. And, of course, He did. This time, He used another not-so-secret secret weapon to make His point.

“What Has Dr. Trace Pirtle Done Lately?”

Apparently, my half-stepping professional life was consistent with my bench-warming service to God’s Kingdom. I could feel it, but thought I was the only one who knew it. It was like misreading the Johari Window, where there are things I know about myself that others don’t know, when in reality, everyone knows and I don’t! Imagine feeling a breeze around your waist; you know something isn’t just right, and then a true friend says, “Bro, your fly’s down. Zip up!” Everybody sees it except me.

Sometimes God’s gentle conviction comes through those closest to us, revealing what we’re blind to in ourselves. In this case, my wife was the one God used to tell me. She was His not-so-secret secret weapon. One evening, as we sat talking, I must have been complaining too much. I guess Rose (and God) had heard enough because she snapped, "What has Dr. Trace Pirtle done lately?" There is nothing quite as powerful, or humbling, as a loved one holding up a mirror to your soul.

It felt like reliving my childhood, when my dad would occasionally say, "Trace, I'm disappointed in you." Give me the belt…ground me for a month…double the chores…but don’t say “What have you done lately? I’m disappointed in you.” But there it was—confirmation from the two people who know me best and love me the most, saying "Boomer, you need to take a Mulligan because you are out in the rough…AGAIN!" I was beginning to feel like a very slow learner. How could I have come off The Fall without learning anything? But sometimes, delayed understanding means God is shaping a new lesson beneath the surface. Only patience allows its meaning to break through. And then it hit me… I wasn’t so much being reprimanded for what I wasn’t doing as I was being prepared for a new way of playing on God’s golf course. First, I needed to watch the new game from His bench.

The Jesus Bench

Not far from where I heard “Boomer’s Mulligans,” there is—or was—a bench with the name "Jesus" inscribed on an oval placard. I call it the Jesus Bench, and it became my favorite place to rest from a walk or jog, but now a place to take my Bible and notebook and "study." Yes, I would take notes if a verse came to mind, but mostly I was there as if a player sitting on the sidelines watching the game, ready to be called in. It could be golf, football, or baseball, but "riding the pine" on Jesus Bench gave me new appreciation for His Kingdom. Sitting there, I felt both anticipation and uncertainty—the sense of waiting, not for answers, but assignment.

Some of the same people who previously greeted me on the walking path, now seeing an open Bible in my lap, turned away, failing to even make eye contact. Others seemed even friendlier, asking about my studies. Even here, spiritual practice revealed its own social ripple—people’s reactions shifting as the visible markers of faith became part of the scene. It was a microcosm of the world, and I was experiencing it from the comfort of the Jesus Bench. But some time later, God called my number and sent me into the game. But I wasn’t going in as the quarterback of the team; I was going in to deliver water to the team and the fans in the stands.

"Whoever believes in me, as Scripture has said, rivers of living water will flow from within them." - John 7:38

Off the Bench Ministry: Deliver the Water

By this time, after nearly 20 years of experiencing God’s presence in my life, I was getting accustomed to His callings. It’s amazing how, over time, obedience becomes less about dramatic acts and more about quiet faithfulness—just stepping forward when called, no matter the role. Thus, I clearly heard "Off the Bench Ministry: Deliver the Water." This was the beginning of a do-over—a Mulligan—that involved something specific beyond writing. I didn’t really know what it meant to "deliver the water," so I took it literally and started donating cases of bottled water to churches, community centers, and families in need.

Starting small felt right—even if the impact seemed minor, it was movement, action, participation in God’s story, rather than sidelined observation. It was a small thing. It may have seemed insignificant to some, but to me, I was on the field and participating, no longer half-stepping in lukewarm faith. I was the equivalent of God’s "Water Boy" for eighteen months. Then God’s faucet opened, and the work He was calling me to do on His team increased rapidly!

"His master replied, 'Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things.'" - Matthew 25:21