The Israelites had not had a reason to celebrate for a very long time; they had lived in slavery to other nations for about one hundred fifty years. In fact, Nehemiah’s brother called his people, the Israelites, a disgrace (Neh 1) But now, God had done a new work in their midst, and the people of Israel were thankful and filled with joy. Nehemiah 12 describes a national celebration in which they dedicated the rebuilt wall and celebrated the victory of God. To make sure they celebrated with gusto, Nehemiah brought the best musicians and singers to lead them in worship with “thanksgiving and singing accompanied by cymbals, harps, and lyres” They celebrated joyfully, because “God had given them great joy” (Neh 12:27, 43).

To achieve any kind of success in life takes a certain measure of courage and boldness. This is especially true for the athlete who must believe in his or her talents and abilities enough to chase after a lofty set of goals.

Jon Kitna is certainly no exception to that rule. As the Detroit Lions’ starting quarterback, he has come a long way, thanks mostly to an uncanny confidence in his ability—even when most others failed to recognize what the scrappy athlete had to offer. And it’s that same confidence—a confidence that he developed growing up on the unsavory east side of Tacoma, Washington—that Kitna believes has allowed him the opportunity to be a unifying force in every locker room he’s ever occupied.

I was blessed to be able to baptize my daughter in our church a couple of years ago, and since that time I have paid close attention to her spiritual walk. I am a coach, and am used to observing commitment in sports being followed by an intense and disciplined approach to attaining goals. A side effect of my chosen profession is that I tend to view most things in life through the grid of a coach. Spiritual disciplines are no different to me than some others. No excuses! Get to it!

The other day I decided to go on a new mountain bike trail. I began riding in the shade of the mountain and the trees until I came to a split in the road. On the left there was a trail called Creek Mouth and on the right was Sugar Island. I’d originally planned just to ride Sugar Island, but I looked on the map to see where Creek Mouth would put me out at. Unfortunately, it wasn't on the map. Still, the name sounded interesting and I knew I had to ride it.

I remember playing football on the playground as an 8 year old. When I was quarterback, I only had one play—the “Hail Mary.” I would tell everyone, “Go long!” My friends would try to tell me they were open short, but I wouldn’t hear them. I wanted to go long on every play. Of course, going long back then was about 10 yards, maybe 15 if you had a good arm like mine. I would drop back to pass, fling the football as far as I could, and hope one of my teammates would come down with it. I thought any play that didn’t result in a touchdown was a failure. I didn’t care about field position or time of possession; I just wanted to score as fast as possible. Obviously, that wasn’t the best strategy for success.