Scottie Scheffler is not a nihilist.

At least, I don’t think so. I’ve never met him. But the comments that have sent the golfing world into a frenzy come not because he said something shocking—but because he said the quiet part out loud.

“This is not a fulfilling life,” he admitted during a thoughtful press conference before teeing off as the tournament favourite at The Open in Royal Portrush.

Sport—even when you're the world number one—isn’t meant to fulfill us completely. It can’t. And Scottie Scheffler had the honesty and courage to say that.

“There are a lot of people that make it to what they thought was going to fulfil them in life... You get to No. 1 in the world and they’re like, ‘What’s the point?’ I really do believe that, because what is the point? Why do I want to win this tournament so bad? It’s something that I wrestle with on a daily basis.”

Scottie isn't the first to express this—but he may be the first to say it from the very top.

And understandably, that confuses us.

A stonecutter culture

Have you heard the fable of the stonecutter?

A poor man, content in his hard life, delivers a stone to the house of a rich merchant. Envy strikes. He wishes to be a merchant—and his wish is granted. But then he sees a prince, then the sun, then a cloud, then a mountain—each more powerful than the last—and wishes to become each one in turn.

But in the end, he finds his greatest power was simply to be the stonecutter.

Scottie Scheffler, in our eyes, has become the mountain—the world number one golfer. And yet, he admits it hasn’t satisfied him. That unsettles us. It certainly seemed to puzzle many in the golfing media, who have long fantasised about standing where he stands.

In a culture that prizes upward momentum and achievement as the highest form of self-worth, we simply cannot comprehend someone reaching the top and saying:
"It’s not enough."

Scheffler is wealthy, successful, married—by all standards, he has “everything.” And yet he confesses that, in eternal terms, everything is really nothing.

Life as a gift, not gain

In the fable, the stonecutter comes full circle. He learns that true power lies in being who he already was. For Scheffler, the restlessness of sport finds peace in
an identity outside of himself.

For Scheffler his angst at golf finds its peace in him placing his confidence, not in himself, but in an identity outside of himself.

He’s spoken openly about the tension he feels: that golf is both deeply important and entirely irrelevant. As sports journalist Kyle Porter put it:

“He holds the line between ‘cares a lot’ and ‘identity not tethered to outcome’ perfectly.”

That’s because, as Scheffler has said before, his identity is rooted not in performance but in faith in God.

On the day of his 2024 Masters win, friends reminded him that his true victory was secured on the cross. Scheffler later reflected:

“That's a pretty special feeling to know that I'm secure for forever, and it doesn't matter if I win or lose this tournament. My identity is secure for forever."

This eternal security doesn’t make him bitter about golf. Far from it. Lost in the philosophical weight of his comments was this joy:

“I love being able to play this game for a living. It’s one of the greatest joys of my life. But does it fill the deepest wants and desires of my heart? Absolutely not. This is not the be-all and end-all.”

In other words, two things can be true at once: Sport is good. But it’s not ultimate.

The Wisdom of Ecclesiastes

The writer of Ecclesiastes says it like this:

“Meaningless! Meaningless! ...Everything is meaningless.”
(Ecclesiastes 1:2, NIV)

The Hebrew word used here, hebel, doesn’t mean "worthless" so much as "vapor"—fleeting, insubstantial, elusive. Life is real, but not graspable. Beautiful, but not controllable. Important, but not ultimate.

David Gibson, in Living Life Backward, writes:

“By relativizing all that we do... death can change us from people who want to control life for gain into people who find deep joy in receiving life as a gift.”

That’s what Scheffler seems to grasp. His honesty is Ecclesiastes in real-time:

“It’s an unsatisfying venture. I love competing, but it’s not what satisfies me.”

The Invitation to Live

Saying the quiet part out loud is a good place to begin.

God’s Word interrupts us, not to condemn joy, but to redirect our hunger to the one who gave us joy in the first place. Golf, success, family—these are good gifts. But they aren’t the Giver.

As Ecclesiastes teaches, we are not meant to avoid life, but to enjoy it
with the end in view. That doesn’t detach us from the world—it roots us deeper in gratitude for every good and imperfect thing.

“Find life in God and his gifts.”

We can enjoy our passions—like golf—not as our identity, but as expressions of the God who made us. We can love our families, serve others, pursue excellence—all without envy or striving for significance.

Be Like Scottie

Scheffler reminds us that faith in Jesus gives us the freedom to care deeply without being consumed, to strive without being enslaved.

So, friends:
Hold lightly to the things of this world, but find great pleasure and joy in them.
Recognize they are not ultimate—but they are good.
Live with the end in view.
And when the quiet part rises up in your heart—say it out loud.
That’s where real life begins.

Jonny Reid

Jonny is the Director of Engagement at Oak Hill College and also writes for Christians in Sport. He plays cricket at Cumnor Cricket Club and is one of the leaders of Town Church Bicester.