Good morning, my brothers! What happens when the scoreboard turns against you? When the title disappears, the money shrinks, or you simply don’t feel like enough? There’s a verdict that never changes. Let’s go! 4-min, 50-sec read.
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For years, I let a handful of numbers tell me who I was. A football coach reminded me this week whose verdict actually counts.
This week I watched a clip of Clemson coach Dabo Swinney. Then I watched it again... and again.
Swinney has won two national championships and more games than any coach in Clemson history. But after an uncharacteristic 7-6 season last year and a rocky 1-1 start this fall, the critics have been loud. Plenty of them want him gone.
After a come-from-behind 28-20 win over North Carolina, a reporter asked if he feels the pressure and how he handles it. His answer is one every Christian man needs to hear.
"God's on the throne. Football does not define me," Swinney said. "Scoreboards do not define me. God's on the throne whether we win or lose. If I never win another game, God is still good. That's where my peace comes from. Period. The end."
It's easy to say God's on the throne when we're winning. When health is good. The bank account is overflowing. The kids and grandkids are walking with Jesus. Life's on cruise control, our own version of a national title.
But what about when the losses pile up? When health fades, the marriage goes south, a temptation won't let go, a child wanders, or the account runs red?
Can we stand with Coach Swinney and say it then? "God is good. He's on the throne. The world's scoreboards don't define me."
For years, honestly, I couldn't.
The Scoreboards I Kept
Scoreboards defined me. My bank account. The applause of men. My titles.
I checked them the way a coach glances up at the clock. Often, and usually without thinking. Each one added to who I was.
I loved being the chairman and owner of Wendell August Forge. When I sold the company in 2024, and the titles were gone, I struggled to figure out my place.
Here's the thing about scoreboards. They never stop keeping score. Win this week, and it resets the next. The applause fades an hour later. Somebody else always has a bigger title on their business card.
Paul Kept One Too
Before he met Jesus, Paul's scoreboard was about as impressive as it got. The right family, the right tribe, the right training. A Pharisee. By the law's standard, faultless (Philippians 3:3-6).
Then he wrote this.
But whatever were gains to me I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them garbage, that I may gain Christ.
Garbage. That's the word he picked for the whole résumé.
Paul didn't stop working hard. He just stopped letting the world tell him who he was.
Paul's Answer to His Critics
Paul had critics, too. The church in Corinth lined him up against other teachers and graded his performance.
I care very little if I am judged by you or by any human court; indeed, I do not even judge myself. My conscience is clear, but that does not make me innocent. It is the Lord who judges me.
I didn’t notice one phrase in there for years. I do not even judge myself.
Paul didn't just tune out the crowd. He wouldn't let his own scoreboard have the last word, either. For a lot of us, that's the harder one. The loudest critic usually isn't in the stands. He's between our ears. Our mind.
And a winning scoreboard doesn't get a vote. Winning never made us one ounce more loved. Losing never made us one ounce less.
The Verdict Came First
So who does get the vote?
At Jesus' baptism, the Father spoke.
And a voice from heaven said, "This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased."
Notice when He said it. Before a single sermon or a single miracle. Jesus hadn't put anything on the board yet, and the Father was already well pleased.
Brother, if you're in Christ, you're a son. The verdict came first: the Father loves you and is well pleased.
The scoreboard gets a vote on the game. Only the Father gets a vote on the man.
The Throne Is Still Occupied
Uzziah was king of Judah for fifty-two years. Then he died, and the title went with him.
In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord, high and exalted, seated on a throne; and the train of his robe filled the temple.
The earthly throne went empty. That's the year Isaiah saw the one that never does.
That's where Swinney's peace comes from, and where ours can come from too. When the job goes to someone else. When retirement comes, and nobody calls to ask what we think anymore. When the marriage fails. Fill in your “loss”.
Regardless, the throne is still occupied. He's still good. And we're still His.
Reflection
Which scoreboard have you been checking most lately? And what's it been telling you about who you are?
Action
Each morning this week, before you check social media, the email, or the news, read Matthew 3:17 out loud and hear the Father say it over you. Memorize that verse. And if a brother comes to mind who's taking losses right now, send him Dabo's clip with a note: "The throne's still occupied."
Prayer
Father, I've let the scoreboard tell me who I am for too long. Thank You that Your verdict came before my record. Help me hear "My son, whom I love…" louder than any scoreboard this week. You're on the throne. That's enough. Regardless. Amen.
-Will
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