Author and pastor Gary Preston writes:

Recently I read about a professional hockey player who is a star of the NHL team in the metro area near where I live. The measure of this man's stature as a hockey player was not his salary, number of goals scored, or minutes on the ice. Rather, the local sportswriter nominated him for greatness because of his ability to "play hurt."

Consider the symptoms of this athlete after receiving a hard check in the first period of play in a recent hockey game: he couldn't take a deep breath, he had bad bruises on his torso, and his shoulder and rib cage felt as though they had been through a meat grinder. His own description of his injuries made me cringe: "I couldn't breathe. I was lucky my head didn't land in the boards. I would have been dead, almost."

He was finished for the rest of that game.

Now, consider the prognosis for this athlete: he was expected to return to the lineup after missing one game. Two, at most. To athletes, playing hurt is a badge of honor, reflecting the measure of their inner drive. The team needs them. They have to compete in the event. The work has to go on.

That's also true in life.