Church is definitely still present in my life. Every Sunday I'm

Hear the words of Robert Covington, a man who has walked the courts of competition yet still bows his heart before the eternal: “Church is definitely still present in my life. Every Sunday I'm tuned in and then throughout the week I read scriptures, I read motivational messages.” These words shine with quiet strength, for they reveal a truth often forgotten in the noise of the world—that victory is not only of the body, but of the spirit, and that one must return again and again to the well of faith to remain steadfast in life’s battles.

At the heart of Covington’s confession is the constancy of church. Not a building of stone alone, but a place of grounding, of renewal, of remembrance. He does not speak of it as a distant ritual of the past, but as a living force that remains “still present” in his life. This is the voice of one who knows that greatness requires roots. The mighty tree stands tall because its roots run deep; the warrior endures trials because his spirit is nourished by higher truths. By tuning in every Sunday, Covington reminds us that to pause, to listen, to be replenished, is not weakness—it is preparation.

He also speaks of scriptures and motivational messages, as companions throughout the week. Here is wisdom: faith is not a single act on a single day, but a daily discipline. Just as an athlete trains not once but constantly, so too the spirit requires feeding day by day. The scriptures give timeless truths, and motivational words give encouragement for present struggles. Together they form the shield and sword of the soul—one rooted in eternity, the other forged for the challenges of the moment.

History is filled with men and women who lived by this same rhythm. Think of Frederick Douglass, who as a slave found both solace and fire in the pages of scripture, shaping his resolve for freedom. Or consider Florence Nightingale, whose nightly prayers and scripture readings gave her courage to heal the wounded amidst war. Their strength was not theirs alone—it was drawn from the eternal wells they returned to daily, much as Covington describes. Thus, his words are not unique to his time, but echo the practices of saints and heroes across the ages.

There is humility, too, in his declaration. For though he is a professional athlete, praised by crowds and honored on great stages, he still confesses the need for motivation. He admits that even the strong require encouragement, that even the accomplished must turn to higher voices. This humility is itself a lesson: no one outgrows the need for guidance, no one rises so high that they no longer require grounding. The scriptures and words he reads are not signs of weakness, but the very practices that preserve his strength.

The meaning is clear: a life of discipline must be balanced with a life of reflection. The external victories we chase—games won, titles earned, wealth gained—cannot sustain the soul alone. Without faith, without wisdom, without the constant reminding of what truly matters, even the strongest falter. Covington’s testimony is that the Church, the scriptures, and motivational messages together form a foundation upon which he can stand, both in triumph and in trial.

What lesson, then, must we carry? It is this: carve out space in your life for what strengthens your spirit. Do not wait until you are weary to seek encouragement—make it your daily bread. Read wisdom that reminds you who you are. Listen to words that lift you beyond despair. Anchor yourself in practices that endure, even when storms rage. And above all, remember that greatness is not found in independence alone, but in the humility to be guided, nourished, and uplifted by truths greater than yourself.

Thus let Covington’s words be a torch for us: faith is not a relic, but a living force; scriptures are not old words, but living water; motivation is not luxury, but necessity. To keep these close is to walk with strength, balance, and purpose. May we, too, tune our hearts each week and each day, so that we are never empty, but always ready to rise, to endure, and to inspire others on their journey.