Category: RTP

“And when Jesus heard it, he said to them, ‘Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. I came not to call the righteous, but sinners.”  Mark 2:17 ESV

The church is a hospital for sinners, not a museum for saints.

Let’s be honest: I’m a mess. So are you. Someone had to say it. 😀

Not so long ago, I could never have admitted to being broken. Back then, a large part of my identity hinged on how others perceived me. Love and acceptance felt conditional—given when I performed well, withdrawn when I didn’t. Cue shame. Cue guilt.

Can we be honest about our faults without carrying the crushing weight of shame? Can we accept our need for change without believing we’re unlovable? To anyone trained in conditional love, this sounds counterintuitive—maybe even impossible.

Can we be both broken and beautiful?

Yes! That’s the good news. Unconditional love does exist—and it’s more than a concept. It’s a gift, wrapped in the Gospel of the Kingdom of God.

Tim Keller captured it perfectly:

“The gospel is this: We are more sinful and flawed in ourselves than we ever dared believe, yet at the very same time we are more loved and accepted in Jesus Christ than we ever dared hope.”

What would it look like if someone asked you to draw a picture of unconditional love? (I’ll wait. It’s not easy, is it?)

For years, I understood the Gospel in my head, but my heart lagged behind. Everything changed the day I stumbled across a video about a family who routinely adopted special needs children from around the world.

Short Adoption Video Clip – 1 minute

For the first time, my imagination caught up. I saw why the Bible uses the language of adoption to describe our salvation. This family didn’t adopt in spite of the children’s brokenness—they chose them because of it. The ones others overlooked were the ones they ran to. They believed unconditional love could transform brokenness into something beautiful: a family.

That video captures the essence of the Father’s heart.

He wants us. He looked across the world and picked you—not despite your brokenness, but because of it. The more damaged and forgotten we are, the more clearly His love shines through.

It’s not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. Jesus came for us—the unrighteous.

That’s true love. The kind that heals us, transforms us and makes us beautiful.

Run the play. Run in God’s unconditional love.

“We are more sinful and flawed in ourselves than we ever dared believe, yet at the very same time we are more loved and accepted in Jesus Christ than we ever dared hope“

Tim Keller

💬 One Last Word…

Maybe you’ve read this and thought, “I want that kind of love. I want to be chosen, accepted, healed—even in my brokenness.”

Here’s the good news: you can.

You don’t have to clean yourself up first. You don’t have to fix the cracks or hide the pieces. God already knows, and He’s still calling your name. He’s not offering religion or rules—He’s offering a relationship, a forever family, and a love that changes everything.

The Bible says:

“To all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God.”
—John 1:12

That invitation still stands.

If you’re ready to step into that kind of love and begin a new life as a child of God, you can simply say something like this:

---

“God, I’m broken—and I know I can’t fix myself.
But I believe you love me, and that Jesus came for people just like me.
Thank you for dying for my sins, and rising again to give me new life.
I receive your forgiveness and your love.
Adopt me into your family.
Make me whole and teach me to follow you.
Amen.”

---

If you prayed that, welcome to the family. 💛
You are no longer just broken—you are beautifully His.

“…anyone who builds on that foundation may use a variety of materials—gold, silver, jewels, wood, hay, or straw. But on the judgment day, fire will reveal what kind of work each builder has done…”   1 Cor. 3:12–14 (NLT)

Inheritance and legacy are two sides of the same Kingdom coin. One is received. The other is left. Both are sacred.

Once upon a time, I bought a 1971 AMC Hornet with “three on the tree.” My dad helped me pick it out, and I paid $1,000 in cash—a serious dent in my teenage savings. It had no air conditioning, carpet, or power—just hand-cranked windows, vinyl bench seats, and brakes that required a full-body press. My high school buddies called her Mellow Yellow, after the old Donovan song. She wasn’t fancy, but she was mine. I didn’t know it then, but that little yellow Hornet was more than a car; it was the on-ramp to a legacy of self-reliance, resilience, and reward.

My parents couldn’t help me or my brothers financially, not with cars or college. Looking back, that felt hard. But now? It feels like a gift.

Years later, our mom admitted something profound. Because they never had the resources to bail us out, they never had the temptation to. They didn’t hover, intervene, or try to protect us from every challenge. That limitation became their unintentional wisdom. It kept them from harmful help. And it gave us the one thing that can’t be inherited through a checkbook: the chance to grow and flourish.

That was our inheritance.
We are their legacy.

What are we leaving behind as an inheritance? And what are we unintentionally stealing from those we love by trying to give them everything? There’s a reason so many young adults today feel stuck when it comes to “adulting.” Too many parents—with the best intentions—are stepping in too soon and too often. It’s like cutting open a butterfly’s cocoon to “help” it out. What looks like kindness steals its strength. Real love knows when not to rescue.

It takes discipline and discernment to let those we love struggle in the right ways so that they can realize their full potential.

The things I’m leaving behind aren’t found in a will: stories of faith, dusty shadow boxes filled with service and citizenship mementos of our ancestors, photo albums stuffed with memories that mattered. These aren’t things I’ll leave behind because I have to. They’re treasures I’m giving because I get to. But our greatest legacy will be the people we poured our lives into.

Paul reminded the church in Corinth that Jesus is the only proper foundation, and we’re invited to build on that foundation with materials that last. Not all inheritances are created equal. Only what’s built on Christ will withstand eternity.

And in a beautiful twist, Jesus tells us we can send treasure ahead (Matthew 6:20). We can’t take anything with us, but we can invest in heaven now—by giving, serving, and loving.

May we receive what Christ has secured and leave behind what only love can build. Because in the end, the only inheritance that lasts is the one forged with faith, fire, and an open hand.

Run the play. Play the long-game. Who is your legacy?

“My parents couldn’t help me or my brothers financially, not with cars or college. Looking back, that felt hard. But now? It feels like a gift.”

Mellow Yellow

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.”  Ecclesiastes 3:1 NIV

And according to Hallmark, the Christmas season comes twice a year.

It’s no secret to those who know me well: I’m a big fan of Hallmark Christmas movies. Even as I write this, I’ve made sure my streaming service is set to record all the Christmas in July premieres. The truth is, in the Jette house, we celebrated Christmas in July long before Hallmark made it a thing.

Our July tradition began by accident. Years ago, I wanted to send a note to a friend but could only find last year’s Christmas card. I sent it anyway. To my surprise, he said it was one of the funniest and most uplifting things he’d ever received—and he was battling cancer at the time. Mission accomplished.

It became an annual ritual from then on. Over the years, I’ve expanded the list of recipients, focusing on those who might need a little unexpected holiday cheer.

Sure, some of the Hallmark movies are cheesy and predictable. We fast-forward through a few. Others we watch every year. But kindness and thoughtfulness? They’re never out of fashion or out of season.

By July 25th, most everyone is tired of the heat and humidity of summer. A Christmas card in the mailbox brings a momentary escape—and a reminder that cooler, cozier days are ahead. (Fun fact: December 25th is only 155 days from the date this post is published.)

Who in your world could use a bit of off-season hope? A card, a text, a funny surprise—small gestures carry Kingdom weight.

Run the play. Merry Christmas – In July!

“A word aptly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver.”

— Proverbs 25:11

Kindness 101: Secret Santa

“Do not be deceived: God cannot be mocked. A man reaps what he sows.”  Galatians 6:7 NIV

It’s been a while since we’ve had to watch Bob the Tomato and Larry the Cucumber from VeggieTales. Those quirky videos were a favorite of our grandson, Chase. The Bible-based stories were memorable, but the intro music? Total earworm. (Cue the theme song: Listen here)

Recently, while flipping through old garden photos, I unpacked more than just memories. Like their animated counterparts, the veggies from our backyard taught me a few spiritual truths worth passing on.

1. Significance

Like a business, a garden doesn’t have to be big to be significant. Ours produced more than we could eat, so we shared it with neighbors and friends. Abundance gives us the opportunity for generosity.

Jesus warned about the temptation to hoard, building bigger barns rather than giving things away. Why? Because hoarding decays. Conversely, generosity creates meaning, purpose, and joy in this life and the next.

2. Growth

If you want tomatoes to thrive in the Deep South’s clay soil and intense heat, you have to water the roots. I saved old milk jugs, poked holes in the bottom, and buried them next to the plants. This simple method funneled water directly to where it was needed most.

Spiritual growth works the same way. Jesus described his Word as living water—it satisfies our deepest thirst. We grow strong when we allow Scripture to soak deep into our hearts. Reading, studying, and memorizing the Word waters our roots.

3. Threats

The most destructive threats to my zucchini and cucumber plants came from the inside. Squash borers and grubs attacked the stems from within, killing the plants almost overnight. One day, everything looked lush; the next, the stems were limp and lifeless.

Sin does the same to the soul. Left unchecked, it works from the inside out—quietly, persistently, destructively.

“We reap what we sow” isn’t some cosmic karma principle or behavior scoreboard. It’s a warning. Like a smoke alarm or a parent saying, “Don’t touch the burner,” it protects us from destruction.

Jesus often taught using farming metaphors for a reason: they’re simple, memorable, and rich with meaning. Habitual sin might not seem urgent initially, but it’s always working—like the grub in the stem. The enemy seeks to steal, kill, and destroy. We must be vigilant. (Don’t get me started about what the squirrels did to my tomatoes 😀.)

Running the play means sowing the right seeds, watering them deeply, and guarding the garden against threats. It’s how we reap an abundant harvest—the kind Jesus promised.

Run the play. Abundant harvests await.

“Still other seed fell on good soil, where it produced a crop—a hundred, sixty or thirty times what was sown.” – Matthew 13:8 (NIV)

Finding Our Place in the Story

Where are you currently experiencing abundance? How might God be inviting you to share it?

What habits help you get God’s Word to your roots? What might help even more?

Are there “hidden grubs” in your spiritual life—small compromises or unchecked patterns that could be dangerous over time?

““Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.”  John 8:32 NIV

Arnold Palmer said, “Golf is a game of inches. The most important are the six inches between your ears.” He was talking about the battle for our thought life.

Since the beginning—since Eden—our freedom has always been won or lost in the realm of the mind. That’s where the battle takes place. Free will is the cornerstone of love because love grants the dignity of choice. And that freedom to choose—to accept or reject love—is sacred.

But it’s also vulnerable. Lies are the enemy’s most effective weapon. They don’t overpower us physically; they infect our thoughts. And over time, they enslave us.

Make no mistake: lies can be seductive. Just ask Eve. Or anyone who’s fallen prey to addiction, shame, or self-deception. I believed one such lie in my youth—the alluring promise of the “free love” movement. It claimed that romantic and sexual freedom, unbound by biblical covenant, would lead to a richer life. It didn’t.

The supposed freedom of the ’60s and ’70s came at a steep price: broken relationships, disease, depression, instability, and addiction. It wasn’t love. It was bondage. And it all started with a shift in thinking—a lie accepted as truth.

Most of the lies we face today don’t make headlines. They’re quieter, more personal, but just as destructive:

• The child who is constantly corrected begins to believe they’re inherently bad.
  
• The workaholic who measures worth by productivity and status.
  
• The perfectionist who can never rest.
  
• The wounded heart convinced it’s unlovable.
  
• The whispered thought: “You’re not enough.”
  
• The desperate hope that secretly ending a pregnancy will bring relief, only to be met with lasting soul pain.

Jesus said the truth sets us free, which means lies hold us captive, not in chains of iron, but in chains of falsehood. These lies distort reality, distance us from God, and leave us stumbling in the dark. But Jesus didn’t just bring truth—He is truth. He came to liberate us.

In Mark 1:15, Jesus says: “The time has come. The kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe the good news!” These two imperatives—repent and believe—are deeply linked. Repentance isn’t just remorse or behavior change. It’s a Spirit-powered reorientation of the mind. It’s turning from deception and aligning ourselves with God’s revealed reality.

Repentance is freedom’s doorway.

It’s saying, “Yes” to truth. “Yes” to love. “Yes” to being adopted into a family where freedom, not fear, reigns. And because we’re still in a battle, repentance isn’t a one-time event. It’s a daily practice—a habit of the heart.

That’s why the apostle Paul wrote in Philippians 4:8:
“Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable… think about such things.”
This thinking is how we stay free. We train our minds to dwell on what is true. We choose what we feed our thoughts. And we refuse to give lies the final word.

Because what holds our attention eventually shapes our identity.

Run the play. Win the battle for your mind.

“Repentance isn’t just remorse or behavior change. It’s a Spirit-powered reorientation of the mind. It’s turning from deception and aligning ourselves with God’s revealed reality.”

Finding Our Place in the Story

What lie have you unknowingly accepted as truth in your life?

How might daily repentance help you reframe your thoughts around God’s truth?

What practices can help you focus your mind on what is noble, pure, and lovely?

“… just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve,   and to give his life as a ransom for many.”  Matthew 20:28 NIV

We tend to think that if we had the right people in our corner—billionaires, influencers, CEOs—Kingdom impact would skyrocket. But Jesus never built that way.

Take a quick inventory of the wealthiest people alive today. How many of them love Jesus and are all-in as his followers? It’s rare for God to partner with the ultra-wealthy. He doesn’t need them to accomplish his will.

Jesus chose twelve mostly poor, uneducated disciples. He once said it’s easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for the rich to enter the Kingdom. If Jesus were here today, who would he pursue—twelve high-capacity donors, or twelve prayer warriors? What does your heart say?

Meanwhile, much of the modern church has built a massive engine around fundraising. It’s estimated the American church spends $3–5 billion and over 90 million hours each year to keep money flowing. Even with that, churches spend far less on fundraising than secular nonprofits—and yet we’ve imported a deeply transactional mindset.

If stewardship is truly discipleship, is our current fundraising culture drawing people into deeper faith, or just optimizing a revenue stream?

I’ve grown uncomfortable with the word “donor.” In most ministry spaces, it frames the relationship in transactional terms. We ask people to give, and they ask what they’ll get: recognition, status, tax advantages, emotional satisfaction. Ministries respond with promises—naming rights, updates, or spiritual ROI.

That is upside down.

God’s right-side-up model is not transactional, but covenantal. It’s not ROI but ROL, which is a return on life. In every area of influence—home, work, church, community—Jesus modeled the right-side-up way: to serve and to give. He gave his life as a ransom. That’s the kind of currency that builds the Kingdom.

So, let’s stop viewing people as donors, projects, or prospects. Let’s view every interaction as a divine opportunity to disciple, serve, and love without expecting anything in return. Let’s release our strategies and agendas and trust the One who owns it all.

God doesn’t need the wealthy to accomplish great things. He wants to partner with humble people after his own heart.

Run the play. RTP for ROL.

“God’s right-side-up model is not transactional, but covenantal. It’s not ROI but ROL”

Finding Our Place in the Story

Alignment: In my own giving journey, have appeals felt more like invoices or invitations to partner with God’s work?

Stewardship: If my church/ministry redirected just 1 % of its fundraising budget to frontline ministry, what kingdom stories might emerge?

Participation: How could I move from being a “transactional donor” to a true co-laborer—offering time, talent, and prayer alongside treasure?

“You give them something to eat.” – Luke 9:13 NIV

Jesus wasn’t challenging their logistics but their vision.

Prayer doesn’t come naturally to me. Apparently, it wasn’t easy for Jesus’ disciples either. Their request—”teach us how to pray”—comforts and encourages me. It reflects a truth I’ve found: as our faith matures, so do our prayers. This evolution mirrors our growing intimacy with God and deepening understanding of his ways.

The disciples’ experience feeding the five thousand illustrates this beautifully. Returning from their first mission of healing the sick and proclaiming God’s Kingdom with Jesus’ authority, they learned another lesson. Faced with a hungry crowd, they suggested Jesus send everyone away. Instead, Jesus said, “You give them something to eat.” He wasn’t challenging their logistics but their vision. He invited them into a partnership, encouraging them to see beyond the natural and embrace Kingdom realities.

Together, they fed the multitude with 5 loaves and 2 fish.

A similar transformation awaits us in our prayers. When Jesus taught us to pray, “Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven,” he wasn’t merely instructing us to ask. It’s a proclamation, spoken in agreement with God’s perfect will. There’s no uncertainty—it’s declaring heaven’s reality into our earthly circumstances. Our prayers shift from passive requests to active participation in God’s purposes.

However, like most worthwhile endeavors, effective prayer follows a crawl-walk-run progression. Jesus assured His disciples, “Until now, you have not asked for anything in my name. Ask and you will receive, and your joy will be complete.” He wasn’t inviting us to remind him of earthly problems, but instead calling us to partner with him in bringing heavenly solutions. Prayer becomes powerful when aligned with his agenda.

Growing in this authority isn’t about instructing God, but about stepping into what he’s already doing. Jesus clarified this, saying, “Apart from me you can do nothing.” Rather than stating the obvious, our prayers should bring heaven’s reality—freedom from disease, brokenness, pain, and sorrow—to our families, neighborhoods, and nations. We truly need and desire more of Jesus, reigning fully and powerfully among us.

When we pray in his name, we agree with His Kingdom priorities. Jesus patiently waits for us to see what needs doing and to step forward boldly, empowered by his authority. He is waiting on us, not the other way around. Our role is active; our purpose is clear: proclaiming heaven on earth through prayer.

So let’s pray boldly. Let’s pray intentionally. Let’s pray with Kingdom vision. Because, in the words of Jesus, the command remains, “You give them something to eat.”

Run the play. (Run the pray.) He is still turning water into wine.

“He is waiting on us, not the other way around. Our role is active; our purpose is clear: proclaiming heaven on earth through prayer.”

Finding Our Place in the Story

When have you been tempted to dismiss a situation because it seemed impossible? How can remembering Jesus’ words—”You give them something to eat”—change your response next time?

How might your prayers shift if you approached them not as requests, but as active proclamations of God’s Kingdom reality?

What specific area in your life or community needs the bold, authoritative prayer, “Thy Kingdom come”? How can you partner with God practically in this area?

But Daniel resolved not to defile himself with the royal food and wine, and he asked the chief official for permission not to defile himself this way. — Daniel 1:8 NIV

Resolve and Integrity — the inner decisions made before the battle begins

Young nobles, including Daniel, are taken into exile and royal service when Babylon conquers Jerusalem. Despite pressure to conform, Daniel resolves not to defile himself with the king’s food, and God honors his faithfulness, granting him wisdom and favor. Daniel and his friends rise above the rest, standing out for their integrity and insight. Resolve is the inner decision Daniel makes in advance to stay faithful or take a stand, no matter what challenges may come. Integrity and resolve kept Daniel whole in a world trying to pull him apart—from the king’s table to the lion’s den.

When I read about Daniel and his friend’s approach to food, I wondered if it had an application for me. For most of my life, I’ve had an unhealthy relationship with food. I’ve had to learn to “eat to live” instead of “living to eat.” I lost close to 40 pounds 18 years ago and have kept it off. One of the ways I applied Daniel’s approach is best understood in the example of McDonald’s French fries. (Can you smell them?) If I were going to eat out, I would decide what to order in advance. In my mind, it was resolved. Settled. When I failed to do so, I had no resistance to the smell of fries or the enticement of less healthy menu items. I had a plan for eating well, and I ran the play.

Inner decisions made in advance helped me get what I wanted more than French fries: better health.

Resolve has helped me build a life of increasing integrity. It can help us de-compartmentalize our lives and re-integrate them around the truth. We’ve been taught to divide our lives into sacred and secular, often listing priorities like this: 1. God, 2. Family, 3. Work, 4. Friends. But God didn’t design us to live in silos. He created us to be whole. All of life is wholly sacred, period.

Reintegration requires resolve—those daily inner decisions to keep the main thing Jesus and his Kingdom. In RTP language, this is the scorecard—the choices we’ve already made that shape a God-honoring day.

In the Kingdom of God, Jesus Christ is the clearest example of a life of resolve and integrity. We aim to be his wholly integrated apprentices. Every day is a new opportunity to learn from him, resolve to follow him, and step into the work he prepared for us long ago (Ephesians 2:10).

Just like Daniel, Jesus resolved in advance to live with integrity, no matter the cost. And he invites us to do the same. In a fractured world, let’s choose wholeness.

Run the play—with resolve, with integrity, with Jesus.

“Inner decisions made in advance helped me get what I wanted more than French fries: better health.”

Finding Our Place in the Story

What decisions do I need to resolve in advance to stay faithful in the areas where I’m most tempted to compromise?

Where have I compartmentalized my life, treating some parts as “spiritual” and others as “secular”? How can I reintegrate those areas around Jesus and his Kingdom?

What “fries” in my life—desires, distractions, or habits—threaten to pull me off course, and how can I pre-decide to pursue what matters most?

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come. All this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to himself and gave us the ministry of reconciliation. 2 Cor 5:17-18

We need better solutions to life’s problems.

When we were growing up, things like home appliances and televisions lasted longer. A lot longer. I’m not sure if they were built better or if it was more out of necessity. If something broke, we tried to fix it. In our house, many things were held together by wire and duct tape. A substantial wire cable even kept our garage from falling over. If we couldn’t fix it, we might have called a repairman—but it was rare to replace something outright.

Our dad was handy but didn’t always have the right tool for the job. That’s where wire and duct tape came in. It didn’t always look pretty, but it worked. Many a broken baseball bat was held together with a nail or duct tape. I still remember the sting to the hands from hitting balls with a refurbished bat. From his experience, we learned that having the right tools is key to achieving the best outcome, but those tools aren’t always available.

Many aspects of our lives often require repair as well. Despite outward appearances and beautifully curated social media, life is hard. Even the rich, beautiful, and famous don’t have a free pass. They may be among the most broken and miserable people if addiction and suicide rates are any indication.

We often lack the right solutions to address our problems as individuals and as a nation. Seeing people put their hope in political candidates is heartbreaking. About half the country is devastated every four years because “all hope is lost.” The other half rejoices, at least temporarily, because their political messiah has won. But no matter who resides in the Oval Office, this remains true: there are no political solutions to spiritual problems, and all problems are spiritual. We continue to attempt to patch spiritual wounds with political or other temporal solutions.

Every personal and corporate problem is rooted in what the Bible calls the Fall of Man, as described in Genesis 3. No exceptions. Therefore, the only real solution to what ails us is the gospel—the good news of our redemption through Christ’s sacrifice on the cross. When Jesus died and rose again, he reversed the curse. Theologians refer to this as the beginning of the New Creation. God, in Jesus Christ, is making all things new.

The world offers temporary solutions, like wire and duct tape. The gospel is the only true and final answer to our need. One day soon, the entire cosmos will experience rebirth. The good news is that it’s already begun.

Apprentice yourself to Jesus so your good works contribute to New Creation—and you experience the freedom, joy, and abundance he wants you to have.

Run the play. Freedom and joy await.

“… there are no political solutions to spiritual problems, and all problems are spiritual.”

Finding Our Place in the Story

Where am I using “wire and duct tape” instead of turning to Christ?

How am I tempted to look to politics or performance for salvation?

What would living today as part of God’s new creation look like?

Thoughts on New Creation from N.T. Wright

 But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you. – Matthew 6:33 ESV

Thoughts from losing on the pickleball court.

Sometimes the best life lessons come in unexpected places. Our new neighborhood has a pickleball court, and some friendly pickleballers invited me to join their ranks, even though I had never played before. Today’s missive includes some observations from playing pickleball. More precisely, losing at pickleball.

Growing up, I was the youngest of four boys. Much has been written about the ramifications of birth order. The things I’ve read have generally disparaged those of us who are the last-born. We have been described as master manipulators, charming, and adept at getting what we want. We are accused of “working the system” with a well-timed smile or a strategically deployed cute remark. To that I say, “No comment.” One indisputable fact is that I became very proficient at losing while playing with three older brothers.

I lost at everything. Football, baseball, basketball, cards, checkers, chess, board games—you name it, they beat me. So losing at pickleball is in my wheelhouse. Those early losses trained me not just in humility, but in redefining what counts.

How does someone who has experienced so much failure survive in our ‘winner take all’ culture? You simply find better ways to keep score and redefine what winning is. This is not a comment supporting the proliferation of participation trophies. I’m all for keeping score. I love that we keep track of things; I greatly enjoy winning a pickleball game. But I also find a lot of satisfaction even when I lose—because I don’t let the final score define me or the experience.

By default, the world will tell you who you are and what to value. “Winning isn’t everything; it’s the only thing” is a well-known quotation in sports. It is attributed to UCLA Bruins football coach Red Sanders, and later to Vince Lombardi. It’s a lie of the scarcity mindset of the culture. This lie has become so woven into our cultural fabric that the team that places second out of the 32 teams in the NFL is labeled a loser each year. Their shame is the stuff of legends. Ask any Buffalo Bills fan. Getting to the Super Bowl is no small achievement, but in our culture, you aren’t a winner until they say you are. To that I say, “Baloney.”

Don’t let someone else tell you who you are, your worth, or your life purpose. Unless that someone else is Jesus, who I believe provides a unique and profound understanding of our identity and worth. In his Sermon on the Mount, he emphatically taught his listeners not to worry about or run after the things of this world, because our Father in heaven knows we need them and longs to see us flourish. He is a good Dad, and his Kingdom is one of abundance. The key metric on Jesus’ scorecard was to seek God’s kingdom and righteousness first. I put Matthew 6:33 at the top of mine, too. It’s not possible to win at life without it.

Kingdom First Abundance

• Deriving great pleasure from hitting a good shot or doing great work.

• Developing relationships with neighbors or colleagues.

• Playing outside, soaking up vitamin D, or walking with a spouse, child, or friend.

• Being considerate and keeping things moving. Lighten up, find the joy.

• Staying upright—no one gets hurt. Protecting one another physically and emotionally.

• Great sportsmanship, meeting at the net, congratulating the winners, and celebrating the game or someone else’s accomplishment.

If Vince Lombardi were alive today and playing pickleball, he might say, “Going home unhurt and in one piece isn’t everything, it’s the only thing.”

Create your abundant life scorecard. Ensure it begins with seeking first the Kingdom and his righteousness.

Run the play.


“… our Father in heaven knows we need them and longs to see us flourish. He is a good Dad, and his Kingdom is one of abundance.”

Finding Our Place in the Story

What experiences have reshaped your definition of “winning” or success?

Can you recall a moment when losing led you to gain something more valuable?

How does recognizing your worth beyond worldly standards influence your daily interactions? Has it helped you see God more clearly through their poverty or faith?

Time for a laugh? Pickleball Fails Video