In this fast-paced college life, there’s little time to waste. We go about campus, dashing from one class or appointment to the next. This we do from the all-too-eager rise of the sun till its setting. Is this a problem? No. After all, our hard work is ordained by God to grow us, give us
Just as athletes retire or their careers end, I’ll never write another column for The Collegian. Ever. As my college career comes to a close, I look back and remember some of my favorite athletic experiences: organized sports with my twin brother, Chris.
What are the moments that comprise our deepest formulation of senior sappiness? What makes up that sentimentality that oozes out of even the best of us at this time in our lives?
All of you “Greenvillians” or probably any South Carolinian knows that the weather here is about as constant as a junior high dating relationship (and those of you from elsewhere are quickly learning this fact).
When I was growing up, my greatest fear was not under my bed, in my closet or at the front door — it was outside. Several large dogs had come to have free rein where I lived, and they terrorized all the neighborhood children. I had always been a dog lover, but a one-dog lover.
God will guide me up, and when I reach the top and look back, I won’t regret learning to trust Him. I will be better prepared for the next mountain.
As Christians, we can see the danger of putting athletes on pedestals because we understand man’s sinful condition. Instead of making athletes into role models based on the success of their careers or their popularity, we should appreciate athletes who lead upstanding lives — especially Christian athletes with an unashamed testimony for Christ.
March is almost over, and another wild month of our favorite college basketball tournament is wrapping up. As usual, it’s historic, unprecedented and magical.
The smells wafting around me on the day I stepped out of the Shanghai airport will forever be etched in my memory. The faces of the people surrounding me were unlike my own.
Eleven years ago on Feb. 24, 2002, the television was on in my parents’ bedroom as my family was preparing to leave for church. I, as a 12-year-old, stood in front of the set and watched a basketball game between the Nebraska Cornhuskers and the Kansas Jayhawks.