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?

A Division I basketball school entered its conference tournament as the number eight seed, which meant a low probability of making it to the NCAA tournament. Despite the odds, they achieved that goal by knocking off the one-, two-, and four-seeded teams, thereby earning entry into the NCAA tournament. As one team member summarized, “We put it together when it counted most.” We all know that falling short of our expectations leads to disappointment both on and off the court. However, if we, like that eighth-seeded team, keep looking forward to even a small hope of success, we’ll often be glad we did.

Every season, coaches and players alike try to figure out the “secret formula” for winning a championship. Throughout my years as a player and coach, I’ve learned that every championship team has one thing in common. That one thing is not talent, it’s not size and it’s not intelligence. Time and time again, the common denominator of a championship team is a servant heart. This shouldn’t come as a surprise to believers. Even Jesus, the King of Kings, spent His entire life serving others. Sometimes He served others by listening to them. Sometimes He encouraged them. Sometimes He washed their feet. Ultimately, He served us all by dying on the cross.

Elephants are some of the biggest, most powerful, and intelligent animals on the planet. And in certain parts of Asia, farmers still use elephants to do much of the heavy labor. Some countries even hold elephant festivals to
celebrate their strength and intelligence. These festivals always end with a tug-of-war between one elephant and
one hundred men—and you guessed it, the elephant always wins!

But amazingly, the only thing that elephant owners in Asia have to do to control an elephant is tie a rope to its right hind leg and a small wooden post in the ground. That’s it! The elephant won’t move, even though the wooden post and rope is like a toothpick and dental floss to you and me.

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?