I was in graduate school when the dean from a Christian college where I was working asked me to coach the women’s field hockey team (the team’s head coach had fallen ill). Although I loved playing field hockey, I had never considered coaching. But the players were due to arrive in two days, the dean looked desperate, and I didn’t have the heart to say no. I knew the game like a close friend—how hard could it be?

As the quarterback drops back and throws, the receiver hesitantly extends his arms toward to the ball. Sensing a defensive player closing in, he’s not eager to complete the catch. His focus is more on protecting himself from the defense’s attack. In situations like this, when a receiver demonstrates partial effort in catching a ball, it can be said he has “alligator arms.” And likewise, our faith can be like having “alligator arms.” At times, we fail to take full advantage of our opportunities to grow in our relationship with Christ or share our faith with others because we are afraid of what the costs may be. We let fear of circumstances control us, because we prefer to stay safe in our “comfort zone” rather than stretching ourselves and trusting in God.

As Christian competitors, we realize that God has called us to serve. But do we understand that we should be consumed to serve? Is there a consuming fire that burns in us to serve others around us who are hurting and to help those who need to experience the love of Christ through us?

As the time winded down at the end of the Illinois/Louisville game in the 2005 NCAA Final Four, the celebration began. Players began to jump up and down, coaches started to walk towards each other to exchange pleasantries, and one player stood alone. Roger Powell, Jr. stood at the foul line focused on one thing.

Historically, as found throughout scripture, when victory was won in battle the people of God gave praise to the Lord. But many kings and warriors over the years also chose not to give proper praise to God for His goodness in battle. They chose to celebrate how great they were instead of how great God was in the victory. This is still a fault of many today.

It was an ancient custom to shoot an arrow or cast a spear into the country which an army intended to invade. We see this in college football when the Florida State Seminole rider hurls the spear into the ground or when the USC Trojan warrior pierces the soil with his sword.

An open window in the pasage above symbolizes a variety of opportunities that come to us during the course of a competitive contest. The release of the arrow in this opportune moment is our ability to capitalize on the opportunity and turn into a surge of momentum for the team. The bow and arrow represent the strategic development of our talents and deployment of our assignments.

Anyone who knows sports knows that turnovers and missed opportunities, especially in the game of basketball, spell disaster. This was never more apparent than in the championship game of a recent tournament, when our starting point guard had 11 turnovers before halftime, and our team faced a 12-point deficit. The message for her was simple at halftime: “What could you do with 11 more possessions? Could you score the 12 points we need? Perhaps dish out 6 assists to overcome the deficit?”