How good is Steph Curry? He continues to rewrite the record books and change the way the game is played before our watching eyes. Like millions of others, I was glued to the screen as Curry dropped 50 points against the Sacramento Kings in game 7.

My oldest son watched with me and commented after it was over that it was “legendary.” And it was. But what does God think about Steph Curry’s record breaking night?

It’s easy to assume that in God’s economy, earthly awards and success are of highest value to Him—that He somehow needs the epic or legendary performance to be most glorified.

Was the performance glorifying to Him? If so, what if he would have only scored 40? Or 30? What if he scored 60 but they lost? Does athletic success—individual or team—actually bring glory to God or is He after something else?  

Paul never penned a letter to the church at Golden State so we will never fully know how God views athletic records and sports success. But we do get a glimpse of how God views us through the life of Jesus and His many parables. God identifies Himself not as a fan or a fanatic, but as our Father. 

Understanding how God relates to us is foundational when pursuing questions like this—especially since the Bible doesn’t really talk about sports. 

So, God relates to us as a father. 

How then, does a good father view his children when they do things with excellence? 

A VIEW OF GOD FROM MY REFRIGERATOR

Judah loves to draw. He just turned 8. My son spends (probably too much) time on YouTube doing the “how to draw” videos and he continues to craft his skill. 

Sunday school is another location where he releases his weekly masterpieces that end up on our refrigerator.

I think there are some great parallels of how I experience my son’s art and how God experiences and receives our athletic accomplishments.

PERSPECTIVE

I know my son has a high opinion of his artwork. He worked hard on it and in his eyes, it truly is a masterpiece. 

Here is the issue: he is eight. He has no idea what impressive artwork looks like. 

With that being said, for someone his age to color within the lines and follow the instructions from whatever YouTube link he is watching is admirable. But it is no Monet. It is no Rembrandt. Nobody comes into my house and notices his artwork in the kitchen. 

Nobody snaps a picture of it and throws it on Instagram with the hashtag #ForDadsGlory or #ForDadsHouse. My son thinks he is adding value to my home with each stroke of his crayon. I think it’s cute. And I love seeing what he draws. But the only place in the world it will gain an audience, for now, is with whoever is about to grab some milk out of the refrigerator.  

As Curry continues to break records, win awards, and revolutionize the game, I really believe God is pleased by it. I also think it’s healthy to keep it in perspective. 

The God we serve created the universe. He parted the Red Sea. He knows the names and locations of every star. He spoke galaxies into existence. 

Against the backdrop of what impresses our heavenly Father, I think our athletic feats are…endearing. 

This is not to diminish Curry or any success we have achieved in sport, but to increase our view of God. 

PROCESS

Why do I love my son’s drawings? Simple. He draws for me. I am at the forefront of his mind when he carefully adds color to the paper.

“Daddy will love this.”

“Daddy really likes it when I use this color.”

“Daddy picks me up and spins me around every time I make him something, I am going to make this one the best yet!”

What I love about my son’s artwork is not the end result, but the process of him doing it. 

I love his attention to detail. 

I love that he is not comparing his drawing to the work of other 8-year-olds. 

I love it that he makes me wait 10 minutes later than any other parent picking up their kid because he wants so badly to make sure everything is just right.

We get so wrapped up in the end result of athletics that we forget the posture of our hearts throughout the competition can bring just as much glory to God—if not more. 

PERFECTION

This point is cliche but it needs to be said: I don’t love my son’s drawing because it was the best one in the class. No award attached to it would change the way I feel. 

I love it because I love him. I love it because I know that he made it for me. Regardless of whether it stinks or it is perfect, my heart posture towards my son remains the same because of my feelings towards him.

I have a daughter who likes to color too. As a father, how would I feel if everyone in the class applauded my son’s impressive art (for an eight-year-old) and neglected my daughter’s artwork because she cannot color in the lines. 

Would I not respond the same towards her as I do my son, regardless of what the end result her work looked like?

Again, what does this have to do with sports? We need to be careful to not think that God is more glorified through the person who hit the game-winning three than the defender who gave it everything he had and failed. We too often make a link between earthly success and it being the main thing God is glorified through. 

PRESENCE

Perhaps the most glorifying part of my son's drawing is when he invites me into the process. 

“Daddy, can you sit with me while I draw this?”

“Did you like to draw when you were my age?”

“What should I do next? Mario or Sonic?”

As a dad, it’s not really about the drawing. It’s about relationship. And Judah’s gift of art becomes another avenue for us to stay relationally connected. It’s fun to watch him develop this particular skill. But what I prize the most is not the product. It’s his presence. 

This is why we must do the hard work of learning how to integrate our faith with sport. Yes, we glorify God when we do things with excellence. But if all of our athletic feats are only things we give to him instead of experiencing with him, we have missed the point.

Who knows, maybe our athletic achievements will make it to God’s refrigerator? Regardless, we can be confident that as our Father, results take a backseat to relationship.