The Priest and the Perfect Lie

Father Murphy was an avid golfer, but he had a terrible habit of slicing his ball into the rough. One Sunday afternoon, after a particularly long sermon, he found himself stuck behind a massive oak tree on the fourteenth hole. He knew he should play it safe and chip out sideways, but he looked up at the sky and whispered, "Lord, just once, let me hit a miracle shot over this tree."

Suddenly, the clouds parted, and a single beam of golden sunlight hit his ball. A booming voice from above echoed, "Go for it, My son. Use your six-iron."

Father Murphy, trembling with excitement, pulled out his six-iron and swung with all his might. The ball soared upward, cleared the highest branches of the oak by an inch, bounced off a sprinkler head, and rolled sixty feet across the green directly into the cup for an eagle.

The priest fell to his knees in gratitude. "Thank you, Lord! That was incredible! But tell me, why did you wait until today to grant me such a miracle?"

The voice from the heavens sighed heavily and replied, "Because I knew you wouldn't be able to tell a soul about it since you skipped the morning service to be here."