Dear people of Grace,

When I was in college a friend of mine dreamed of putting together an ice hockey team. This is not a common British sport, so most of us who signed up had never spent much time on the ice before. I played for three years and became a pretty average defenseman, scoring only one goal in my entire career. My roommate Andy, though, all five-feet four and weighing one hundred pounds sopping wet, became a truly excellent forward. Try as I might – lovingly – to slam his tiny frame into the boards during every scrimmage he was just too fast, too nimble, and too good for me.

The difference between my own mediocre ability and Andy’s had really nothing to do with our relative size. Each week, in addition to actual hockey practice, we would go to the public rink and work on our skating. I would skate hard and fast around that big oval, practicing my speed and my endurance as I churned out lap after lap. Andy, meanwhile, was constantly sprinting, ducking and weaving, concentrating on his footwork, changing direction on a dime. I swear he spent more time skidding across the ice on his belly than he did on his skates – he was constantly tripping and wiping out, getting back up and then he would be back sliding across in front of me again a few minutes later. He would come home so sore and bruised each week!

Next week we enter the season of Lent, which the Book of Common Prayer describes as a season to be “observed by special acts of discipline and self-denial” (BCP p.17). We can participate in Lent in one of two ways. We can play it safe, work on our endurance, and just skate safely around that rink until we reach Easter; no risk of falling, of encountering any real discomfort. Or we can push ourselves until we stumble, until we wipe out and have to be helped back up; to try, and try again, until we reach Easter battered and bruised, ready to throw ourselves on the mercy of God.

An essential part of the Lenten journey is to fail. We take on spiritual disciplines during Lent which test us, which test our self-restraint and our resolve. And when we wipe out on that ice, we look up and ask God to help us get back on our feet. Because it is always about grace. To walk in the way of Jesus is to be utterly dependent on God. If we get to the end of the practice session and congratulate ourselves because we haven’t fallen a single time, then we are too comfortable, we have not tried hard enough. If we fall once, and then walk away and hang up our skates, what have we really learned? What was the point?

Every time we fail, we learn something more about ourselves, about the world, and about the love of Jesus. To live comfortably is to miss out on this gift, this grace; it is to miss out on an encounter with our Lord.

So, how are you going to live differently through Lent this year?

How are you going to test yourself, test your discipline, test your faith?

What can you commit to doing, or to not doing, for the next forty days?

What are you prepared to learn about yourself, and about the love of God?

And are you prepared to wipe out on the ice this Lent, to look upwards and reach out to see who pulls you back up?

I bid you all a most holy Lenten season.

Blessings and peace,
Fr. Nick+