A few weeks ago, my basketball coach asked me to consider playing junior varsity instead of varsity. At that time, I made the decision that if he ultimately decided to put me on JV, I would quit playing basketball and concentrate all my focus on softball and cross-country. Just a few days ago, he asked me to play JV basketball, for my own sake--"To get more playing time." It was a tough choice, but I decided to decline his offer, hang up my sneakers and pick up a softball glove.

I think there is a deeper reason that this happened. Last year, my focus was solely basketball. I played softball, but basketball had taken more out of me. At one point during a game in which I played for absolutely zero minutes, I began to question if God cared about what I wanted. It got so bad that I got depressed and honestly didn't want to live anymore.

When basketball practices started two weeks ago, I put all my blood, sweat and tears into it. I set goals for myself and said that I would start on varsity as the point guard, that I would shoot 75 percent from the free-throw line and that our team would go to league championships. But then the wall hit me, and that's when I also realized that God was in this. He wanted me. He wanted my heart and my body. He wanted my dedication. I wasn't supposed to be dedicated to basketball, but to Him.

"No one can serve two masters. Either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. . ." I don't hate my coach. I don't hate basketball. I have merely accepted that basketball came before God, and it hindered me from His peace, His grace and everything else He has to offer. For now, at least as an athlete. My heart and my soul are His and none other's.

I have one master: Him.