In sports, you hear a lot about two very different kinds of athlete. One is labeled an “underachiever”—an athlete who has a ton of talent but gets by putting out the minimal effort. The other is referred to as an “overachiever”— someone who makes up for a lack of physical giftedness and athletic prowess with an abundance of hard work, determination, and drive.

On a brisk Saturday morning a while ago, I hit the running trail with my FCA Endurance teammates for an 18-mile training run. The trail was desolate, and over time my fatigued mind began to drift back to my warm car waiting in the parking lot. We were more than 15 miles into the run, and the thought of less than a 5K left begged me to push harder and finish strong, but still I just didn’t feel like giving it my all.

It was about that time that I heard a sound—one that meant more to me than it did to my running buddies. It was the sound of an approaching train, and its noise drowned out the heavy breathing of our tiring pack.

It was a week before the big game. Coach knew how to prepare his team. Every day he broke down the opponent’s offense and defense so his team knew them almost better than they knew themselves. For that week, he added one task to the end of every practice, firmly believing it would make a difference.

A game plan is vital for every contest. Throughout Scripture, God’s game plan was instituted among His coaches. Jesus provided the greatest example of preparing for battle. He was led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the Devil. Satan thought he had the perfect plan, but Jesus was so prepared that every time Satan tempted Him, He came back with an impenetrable defense: God’s Word.

It’s that time again—time for me to dig in and start the countdown to my next competition as a bodybuilder with multiple sclerosis. At 53 years old, I’m a few years older than when I last competed, and it certainly is not getting any easier. But, as He always does, the Lord has stood by me and has allowed me to keep pushing on by encouraging me to battle this disease and win.  

When I was at the University of Kentucky, my team was expected to win a National Championship every year—and we did. It was the cheerleading team, and I was the mascot. Regardless of the sport, expectations go a long way in determining wins and losses. What about in faith? What are our expectations for winning and losing spiritual battles?

I spent the past two evenings watching a lot of high school basketball at the annual Vandalia Holiday Tournament. The South Central Cougars won the tourney, and in a most dramatic fashion, I might add. Monday night, one of the Cougars hit a 3-pointer just shy of half court with no time left, banking it in to help his team beat the hosting Vandals by one point. The very next night, the Cougars played in the championship against the No. 1 seed — the defending champions from Pana High School. The game went into overtime. The score was tied with 1.3 seconds left when, for the second night in a row, that same Cougar drained a baseline jumper. They won by two.