The world’s definition of excellence is just based on performance. As soon as you’re not performing, no one in the media wants to talk to you anymore, and it’s easy to get down on yourself. It’s all wrapped up in performance. It’s like building your house on the sand. It’s very changing and fleeting, and eventually it’s going to be gone because no one is always on top of his or her game. When you find your identity in Christ and in what He’s done for you, it’s the unchanging, sturdy rock that you can always stand on. You can have a much healthier perspective on yourself and in life in general and in where your hope lies. When I’m not performing well, I lose my hope. I lose my joy. I get down. I get depressed.

The runners slipped past me one by one. When I looked behind me, I didn’t see anyone left. Denial set in. I couldn’t possibly be in last place, could I? It had felt like I was running right on pace!

I cranked my neck around—something our coach had told us never to do—and, in a panic, again, I saw no one. I couldn’t reconcile myself to the thought of finishing in last place. No runner who competes at state their freshman year could possibly finish last at the district meet in their sophomore year.

I knew I had to make the decision whether or not to finish the race. The thought crossed my mind that if I dropped out, I wouldn’t finish last, but something in my heart told me that that’s not what was supposed to happen.

Marquette’s football team was 10–0 heading into the final game of the season, facing the possibility of the program’s first championship. But a few days before the game, the coach received a call: sixteen of his starters had been arrested for underage drinking! Team rules dictated alcohol use as punishable by suspension. The next week the coach watched his team’s hopes evaporate into a 63–0 loss while sixteen regular starters stood on the sidelines.

I will never forget playing basketball my freshman year of college. I had just graduated from a Christian high school and was ready to impact all of my fellow teammates. While on road trips, I would have to stay in a room with two other teammates. During every trip, I would deliberately take out my Bible at night and do a quiet time, thinking that if my teammates saw me reading the Bible, they would ask questions. I thought by doing this, I was being a leader.

At the same time I was doing quiet times, I was struggling with sinful language. During practices, games, or just walking around campus with my teammates, profanity was always coming out of my mouth. I felt I had to be that way to get respect from my teammates and to be taken seriously.

A Christian athlete speaks throughout the community about his faith and then gets arrested for drug use. A Christian coach prays with his team before every game and then it is discovered that he has been illegally recruiting players for years. A pastor builds a church from 200 to 2,000 members and then leaves his wife and children to run off with the church secretary. 

If you think about it, the idea of lifting weights seems like an odd concept. “You want me to do what to my body? Why would I intentionally hurt myself? That doesn’t make any sense.” But we all know that even though our bodies are initially torn up they rebuild themselves to become much stronger and tougher.

I love coaching. I love it so much that I could spend all of my waking hours at it. This all-consuming nature of my sport means that most coaches’ spouses are basically single parents. Too many end up divorced. My wife, Kim, would probably have left me if I had been a coach before now.