I was blessed with an incredible childhood. My parents loved my siblings Amy and Bryan and me, and they devoted time to us and provided us with everything we needed. We grew up either playing in the creek behind our house in Santa Rosa, Calif., or walking across the street to the nearby state park’s swimming lagoon. I can still picture us carrying our giant inflatable animal rafts on our heads as we headed out for a swim.

On August 30, 2006, I traveled to Washington, D.C., to experience a day with FCA’s rapidly expanding inner-city ministry there. The ministry, spearheaded by FCA Area Representative David Kiehn, seeks to bring restoration and prosperity to the city by touching the lives of athletes and coaches in some of D.C.’s roughest areas. During my visit I met with football coaches at Dunbar High School and Anacostia High School. What I found was that change within D.C.’s inner-city doesn’t occur overnight by passing a bill or amending a law, but by reaching the hearts of its youth with the gospel.

My testimony begins in Webster City, Iowa, where I was born. My family of five—my parents, older brother, younger sister and I—lived there and in Missouri for a while until I was in third grade when we moved to Florida.

Our family was always involved in church, and I know how fortunate I was to be raised in a Christian home where I was loved and cared for. The only hang-up was that it always seemed like the churches we attended were never close to home. Because of the distance, my siblings and I had school friends and church friends, and they were always different groups. That made church and school very distinct segments in my life for a long time.

I have noticed an alarming trend in sports over the last several years. The leaders have disappeared. I see it when watching both high school and college teams. Many of the teams with which I’m familiar seem leaderless, and their coaches are pulling their hair out.

For decades the world of sports has been an incubator for leadership skills, and both players and coaches have used it for training and development. That seemed rather natural for a long time, but no more. No longer do the strongest competitors and most powerful personalities become a team’s leaders. Too often they simply blend into the background and defer leadership to the coaching staff.

Next time you are outside, take a moment to reflect on the wind. Consider how the contrasting currents of air can either wrench homes from the ground or gently spin the hairs on your arm. Consider that in one location there may be a powerful tornado and in another a gentle breeze. Both are distinct, but not separate. They are streams of air—winds that have been stirred up in different ways. The result of each is determined by the many factors that contribute to their development. And in many respects, our human condition is no different.

When Keisha and Kara Cornelius were growing up in the dusty West Texas town of Denver City, all Kara wanted was to be with the sister who was four years her senior.

For many years, Keisha didn’t understand the depth of Kara’s desire. She’d go out to ride her bicycle with her friends, and Kara — who still hadn’t learned how to ride — would run as fast as her feet could propel her in a futile bid to catch up.

Growing up just outside of Pittsburgh, I was blessed to be part of a family that went to church every Sunday. As the oldest of three kids, I embraced every opportunity I had to show my younger brother and sister the ropes in everything from church youth group to school and, of course, sports. We were a very close group, and, even as we have gotten older and relocated to different parts of the country, we are still as close as we were back then.

Cat Osterman had Callista Balko’s number: nine to be exact. Balko had been 0-9 in her previous career at-bats — nine straight Ks — when facing Texas’ three time national softball player of the year.

“She threw my weakness — a drop ball,” said Balko, a junior at the University of Arizona. “I was trying to adjust anything to hit off that girl. I don’t think I even fouled off a pitch during those nine at bats. It was a frustrating time.”

Last month I had a conversation with FCA President Les Steckel, who posed the following hypothetical situation.

“Jimmy,” he said, “what if I handed you the keys to a brand new car when you turned 16? How would you feel? And what if I then told you that it was the only car you would ever own and that it would have to last your entire life? Would that change the way you treated it? I bet it would. I believe it would radically change the way you took care of that car.”

Major League Baseball teams have games every Sunday from April through September. For those of you flipping through a calendar, that’s 26-straight Sundays spent on the diamond. With that kind of weekend schedule, Christian athletes often find it difficult to attend church services and stay involved with in a local body of believers.

What started as a lump in my throat eventually worked its way down into my stomach as I read the ESPN.com headline. Something to the effect of, “Wainwright injures pitching elbow.”

“This can’t be good,” I thought.

Just a few weeks earlier, I had interviewed the Cardinals ace for our April cover story, and, as soon as I read the news, I knew we were going to have to make some adjustments to the magazine, which was already mid-production. But that internal knot wasn’t just the result of professional nerves; it was also the product of personal compassion.

They don't call it the Evil Empire for nothing. You either love 'em, or you hate 'em.

For nearly a century, the New York Yankees have been establishing their status as the dominant franchise in Major League Baseball. The club is rich in both tradition and dollars and has a track record of success that makes small-market teams both sigh in exasperation and raise their fists in what is usually described as righteous anger.