At a young age, I took up an interest in basketball.  Watching Pistol Pete Maravich play like no player had ever played before, I became intrigued by the fast paced nature of the game and the free-flowing, high scoring, run and gun style of play that characterized NBA basketball in the mid 1970’s.  I remember sitting transfixed on Sunday afternoons watching games on TV.  I would see a wild shot and then immediately go outside and try to replicate what I had just seen.  When big name NBA players would compete in simple games of H-O-R-S-E, a novelty back then, I would see a shot and then go outside and try to perfect it… around the waist, through the legs, off the back board…left handed, one-handed, finger roll, no backboard…25 foot shot from the left baseline, no rim, nothing but net… I remember Pistol Pete being asked one day how he was able to do such amazing things with the basketball.  His reply, “Practice, practice, practice.”

My uncle, who was like a surrogate father to me, saw my interest in the game and decided that I needed a proper basketball goal and court.  He erected a goal in his yard and it became the spot of countless hours of practice.  Day after day, year after year, balls bouncing on the ground, feet pounding down the grass…all this took its toll on the yard.  Not long after the outdoor court opened, a bare spot began to form in the yard.  Over the years, the spot grew larger and larger as the practice became more intense and the neighborhood pickup games more frequent.  Eventually, no grass ever grew on or even near the court.   The landscape of the yard was forever changed.

Today, the goal is long gone, but that spot remains.  Each time I visit, I am reminded of the time I spent there working on my game, practicing my moves, improving my shot.  Practice changes us.  It affects the landscape of our lives.  It perfects our imperfections and helps to transform our weaknesses into strengths.  To this day, I can pick up a basketball and shoot with a certain degree of confidence because of all those years of practice.   I can recite my alphabet because of practice.  I know my multiplication tables because I practiced them so much as a child.   The key to life…practice.

Clearly there is a lesson here about faith as well.  Many people claim that Christianity is defined by a set of beliefs…those who believe the right things are the true people of faith.  But for me, the Christian faith is defined more by a set of practices than by a set of beliefs…worship, prayer, study, service, communion, fellowship, witness, generosity, hospitality…these are the faith practices that form and shape us.  The more we practice them, the more the landscape of our lives is transformed.  The more we practice them, the more visible the Spirit’s presence becomes in our lives.  The more we practice them, the more grounded we become in our faith and the more faithful we become in our witness.

Lent has arrived once again.  Its call is ancient, but its invitation is ever relevant…”practice, practice, practice.”