In the book, Golf's Sacred Journey, we meet a fictitious teaching pro named Johnny, who steps off a rancher's tractor in rural Texas to grip the hand of a player who has lost his way.

As we turn the pages, we, along with the unnamed main character of the book, learn from Johnny. At first we think he's teaching us a better way to golf. But soon we are swept away with the realization that Johnny's lessons are transcendent, that they can't be confined to a game, to a goal, or to a career. They are bigger than life itself.

Who is this Johnny? A modern day "Renaissance man," Johnny is more than a golf professional. We discover that he is a seasoned fly fisher, an accomplished artist, a rancher, a private pilot, a golf club designer, an entrepreneur and a counselor. Yes, he could teach golf to young and old, to beginner and expert alike. But he was more than the sum of his accomplishments or the combination of his skills. He was a man who took the time to figure out what was important, what really mattered. In his own words, "I respect tradition, but have a passion for truth." On one hand, he was a family man. On the other, he wasn't afraid to step out of his comfort zone and launch into deep water. He was a man of faith and vision, who could articulate his faith and inspire others to follow. His motto of "see, feel, trust" went beyond golf and touched every part of life.

Johnny is the kind of mentor we all want. Thankfully, there are Johnnys out there. But, more importantly, he represents what each of us can become. The key to his greatness is in your hand and mine. What made him great was not his many talents, his finely-honed skills, or even his extraordinary insights, but rather his willingness to invest himself in another human being. As the unnamed pro observed, "I was in awe of a man who would give a stranger a week of his time and a lifetime of wisdom."

Johnny went beyond success to experience significance. Where did that significance come from? He realized that he himself was on a "Sacred Journey." Everything he did flowed from his own deep connection with his Lord. The controlling call on his life was his relationship with God.

How did Johnny, a master mentor, come to live in the tiny community of Utopia? Golf's Sacred Journey tells the story:

He was a junior sensation before junior golf was in vogue. He dreamed of becoming a teaching pro because of the influence of his childhood pro. Along the way he won his share of amateur tournaments and eventually contended in several PGA events. But his love of teaching and his desire to spend time with his young family turned his heart homeward. He worked as an assistant for several years, eventually developing a following because of his innovative teaching methods. He believed that golf was a game, not a swing. His emphasis was always about playing the game in front of the ball, not the game behind the ball. He eventually became the head professional of the most exclusive country club in Houston. During those years numerous pros and top amateurs found their way onto his range. His impact was significant and life-changing for many pros, but he loved teaching all levels of golfers, especially juniors. I could see something change in his expression as he talked of leaving the club that had become home for him and his family. Through the years he began to sense that something was missing. The nature of the game and business began to change - and not for the better, in his opinion. The courses had to be perfect, equipment became the rage, swing gurus seemed to emerge out of nowhere, tour pros would prostitute themselves with club companies jeopardizing their careers, and even the infomercial was courting the top teachers and players for a price. It was then that many of the players that he had coached began exploring the latest in swing gurus and theories. His simple philosophy of the game and life fell out of vogue. He lost touch with most of the players he had spent his life helping to develop, and this broke his heart. One day he called a family meeting with his wife and two daughters. He said that he needed a change, needed to move on, and wanted to know if they would support him. He shared his vision of finding a simple life in a small town, far away from the big city. He said that together they would head west on vacation and look for a small ranch in the Hill Country of Texas where they could run some cattle and goats. He had saved his money and invested wisely, so money wasn't a major concern. The family unanimously agreed to the adventure, and the search was on. He told me they had eventually worked their way to the same fork in the road that I had seen earlier in the day. Once they turned toward Utopia, they never looked back. For years ranching provided a needed break from the single-mindedness of golf, but eventually something in his heart told Johnny he wasn't done with golf just yet. It was also about this time that the bottom fell out of the goat market. He was going to need a new use for the land that he had set aside for the goats. He began to let his imagination run free. He had plenty of land, a beautiful setting in the Hill Country, and a philosophy of golf and life that needed an outlet. Why couldn't he build a simple range and a nine hole course and share his passion with the locals? After all, the nearest course was 60 miles to the north in Kerrville. To him the purest form of teaching was taking a novice and building a love for the game and an understanding of the skills required to enjoy it, even if the student was a cowboy or rancher by day. He was now two years on the other side of the dream. Though the range and course lacked much to be desired at first sight, it was a start. Johnny was having the time of his life. While the locals affectionately referred to this place as Goat Ranch Country Club, they nevertheless came. They loved Johnny and developed an appreciation for the game of golf, even though the course seemed a bit out of place. It was indeed like a small village course in the north of Scotland where par was a relatively new term and where the sheep were still the chief green-keepers of the day. This was also the essence of Johnny's place, a place called the Links of Utopia.