There’s something about purpose, something about buying into the concept of destiny that inherently evens the odds.

Nowhere will you find more examples of this principle than in the Bible, where unlikely heroes saved entire nations. Moses was a self-conscious exile with a speech problem, yet God used him to free the Israelites from Egyptian slavery. David was an undersized shepherd boy living under the shadow of his strong, able-bodied older brothers; still he was empowered to kill the mammoth Philistine warrior Goliath and rescue his people from certain defeat. Mary was a teenage girl from a nondescript lineage, but God called her to be the mother of Jesus, the Savior of the world.

If you’ve never heard of Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, don’t feel too badly. Even National Basketball Association (NBA) point guard Luke Ridnour, the town’s most famous product, wouldn’t expect many people to know much (if anything) about his birthplace.

Even though its population is anything but tiny (as of the 2006 census, there were a little over 41,000 inhabitants), only those living in the northwestern United States tend to know much about the city that sits along the edge of the scenic Coeur d’Alene National Forest. And it was in Coeur d’Alene that Ridnour first fell in love with the game of basketball. He lived there until he was seven years old and recalls attending a Christian school where his mother was a teacher.

I think there are two kinds of athletes, the humble and those who will be humbled. While an athlete needs to see the correlation between preparation and achievement, one must acknowledge, “every perfect gift is from above” (James 1:17). This is why coaches may be more nervous coming off a big win than a tough loss. Athletes have a tendency to get an inflated view of themselves.

We’ve all said it: The secret to success is practice, practice, practice. Sometimes we’ll put the word “perfect” in front of all of those “practices” to nail down an even more effective plan. We all know that without practice we’ll never reach the level of play that we desire.

When I was in high school, I trusted my coaches completely, so I practiced whatever they told me to. I desired success, which helped me to listen to them and heed their advice. In the same way, when we read that Paul urges us to “do what you have learned and received and heard and seen in me,” we would be wise to heed his advice. A quick scan of the context reveals some of what Paul would want us to put into practice:

Growing up with two older brothers meant I never got anything new. I was always dished secondhand items:clothes, sporting equipment, and toys. My big day came when I was eight years old and my dad bought me a new lacrosse stick. It was a glorious moment. The lacrosse stick glowed from newness. That experience marked me as a young athlete. It passed through my hands first—not second, third, or fourth!

God does not want our secondhand glory. Secondhand glory is taking credit when God should be getting the credit first. It is subtle. As athletes, it is easy to take credit because we are always getting it from teammates, coaches, and fans.

Most of us, at some time, have found ourselves at “the end or our rope” or at the end of our own strength emotionally. Maybe we were so tired at practice that we were disrespectful to a coach, a trainer, or teammate. Most of us have been let down by someone whom we look up to because they were at the end of their rope emotionally. Maybe a friend lied, or our parents left, or our coach blew up and disrespected us.

I love sports movies, but my all-time favorite is "Hoosiers." It might have something to do with my being a former Indiana high school basketball player, and the movie was filmed in the 80's when I was in college. One scene stood out in the movie to me. In one game, Hickory (the high school) was in need of a sub, and the coach didn't have anyone to put in the game except Ollie the manager. So coach put him in late in the game, and Ollie got fouled and had to go to the line for two free throws. The crowd was yelling, the opposing team was taunting, and Ollie's knees were shaking as he stepped to the line.

As of last Thursday, I only had three 10-mile tempo runs left before my upcoming marathon. Being a Christian competitor, God is why I run, so I was completely convinced that the He would want to bless me with great weather for each of my remaining tempo runs. Would God not want me to make the most of the time I had left? Surely He would! Imagine, then, my surprise when the clouds started to billow two hours before I was scheduled to hit the road.

Wait. One of the worst words in the English language, isn’t it? That’s where I am right now. Waiting. It’s my senior volleyball season, and I’ve been out with a shoulder injury for over a week. There’s nothing I can really do but wait. Wait for recovery. Wait for my doctor’s appointment. Wait for my trainer to clear me to play.

For me, all the waiting does is make me think about my injury, stress about missing games, and get anxious to play. I’m so tired of all this waiting! Are you? What are you waiting on? Waiting for a shoulder to heal might be trivial compared to what’s on your mind. A doctor’s diagnosis. A job offer. A way to pay the bills.

Depending on the golf course, the average PGA golfer will take roughly 280 shots during a four-round tournament. Within each one of those swings there is an enormous amount of pressure. For some players, one shot could make the difference between picking up a weekend paycheck and making an early exit—the difference between retaining a tour card and going back to qualifying school.

Aaron Baddeley fully understands all of the ramifications that accompany golf’s micromanaged scoring system. He has missed the cut by one stroke and made the cut by the same paper-thin margin. Baddeley never takes his position on the PGA for granted but somehow finds relief from the inherent stress with a special technique.