Wardell Stephen Curry II. The father goes by the name “Dell”; the son, just “Steph.” In his day, Dell Curry was known for having one of the purest shooting strokes in the NBA. Now, a generation later, many consider his son Steph to be the greatest shooter in the history of the game. A chip off the old block, apparently, and then some.

On this blog, I’ve made no secret about being a fan of the Golden State Warriors (albeit a far more casual fan than some that I know). Steph is a supremely popular player (Nike underestimated how popular the young Steph would become, and lost him as a pitchman to Under Armour), for a variety of reasons. He is, of course, incredibly talented in handling and shooting the ball. He often plays with exuberance and is fun to watch.

But a large part of his popularity, I think, is because he represents the rewards of persistence and hard work. To kids shooting hoops on the blacktop, dreaming of one day playing in the NBA, Steph’s success sends an important message: You don’t have to be seven feet tall. You don’t have to be born with mad skills. But you do have to be dedicated to your craft and willing to work your tail off. If you do, you just might get where you want to go. It’s the hardwood version of the American Dream.

Steph hails from a family of faith, and makes no bones about being a Christian. The picture above shows how Steph uses a Sharpie to write an abbreviated version of Philippians 4:13 on his sneakers: “I can do all things.” The thought fuels his confidence and competitiveness on the court. As he once put it to reporters, “It’s also my mantra, how I get up for games and why I play the way I do.”

As I write this, however, the Warriors have already been bounced from the playoffs (though by the time you read it, a new champion will already have been crowned). It’s the disappointing end to an odd and disappointing season for the defending champs. As I watched their series against the Los Angeles Lakers, it was obvious that “I can do all things” didn’t mean making every shot. It didn’t mean winning the game or the series or the championship.

And this is an illustration of why I think it’s important to keep what Paul says in context.

There’s nothing wrong with using Paul’s words as motivation, whether they’re written on your shoe, hanging on your wall, or echoing in your head. Of course, we probably don’t see the need to rely on God’s strength when we’re doing easy, routine, or mundane things. But there are plenty of challenges in life that stretch us, that kick us out of our comfort zone. In such situations, it’s good to be reminded that our own strength is neither the only one that matters nor the only one available.

But if we were to take a moral lesson from Steph and the Warriors here, I think it would be this: “I can do all things” is less about winning, and more about how you handle loss; less about success on the court, and more about grace in the locker room.

After all, whenever a team with high hopes fizzles out in the playoffs these days, the blaming and finger-pointing begins. And sometimes, coaches take the fall. Mike Budenholzer, who was twice named Coach of the Year and led the Milwaukee Bucks to a championship in 2021, is gone, after the Bucks were embarrassed and eliminated in the first round by the eight-seed Miami Heat. Monty Williams (who like Steph is public about being a Christian) is out in Phoenix, despite being named Coach of the Year just last year.

I don’t know if Williams has Philippians 4:13 memorized or written down somewhere. But if he does, you can bet he takes it as meaning strength in the face of adversity.

Paul’s situation is a difficult one. He’s under house arrest. He’s chained to his guards. His physical needs are provided for only if people like the Philippians send money to help. But somehow, he has learned to be content no matter what, to accept his situation with faith and grace. He wants the same for his beloved Philippians, who themselves are facing the stress of persecution.

“I can do all things through him who strengthens me,” he tells them. It’s as if to say, I know you’d expect my situation to be desperate. But really, it’s not. That’s not to say that I don’t have any needs. But I’ve learned to be content even in the midst of such a challenging situation because God gives me the strength to do so.

We can’t really do anything and everything we set our minds to. But we can endure any challenge, any loss, any disappointment, when God is the one who gives us the strength.