Well, it’s that time of year again. The beginning of the year, actually. And it seems that every time the beginning comes around again, we enter in with the best of intentions, maybe some newfound resolutions, hopes, goals. We think that if the numerical year can change, maybe we can, too. There’s just something about the promise of a fresh start, a new beginning, that prompts in us the desire to refocus, recalibrate, maybe even reimagine our lives a bit.

Unsurprisingly, if you look at any statistical data surrounding official New Year’s resolutions, “exercising more” and “eating healthier” are two that typically top the charts. You might notice that gyms and sidewalks and grocery store produce sections are a bit more crowded right about now. While we certainly want to avoid extremes, and while we’ll never be able to fully control our bodies or our health, it’s important and good to care for our well-being, and the new year is as good a time as any to make that a priority.

Another common resolution people have is learning or committing to a new skill or hobby. They might want to learn a new language, or how to play an instrument, or maybe join a community sports team, or try out a new art form like painting or pottery. The idea behind this kind of resolution is that it might enhance or enrich their quality of life, maybe adding a layer of meaning or simply a lighthearted layer of fun and enjoyment.

What’s interesting to me about these resolutions, though, is they all take time and practice and commitment. They can’t be achieved instantaneously. Someone with a goal to run a marathon isn’t going to just be able to get up one day and run a marathon. They have to train. A team isn’t going to show up to the big game before putting in dedicated practice together. And a musician probably isn’t ready to play a show if they haven’t rehearsed the songs.

When it comes to these skills or goals, growth requires regular, consistent effort. Sure, we might have certain natural giftings and abilities, but in order to hone or refine them, we can’t neglect them. For many of us, that often proves to be difficult.

In many ways, our faith is similar. Our faith takes practice. We have a “faith muscle” that needs to be exercised regularly in order for us to grow into the people God created us to be. With the image of God already within us and with the help of the Holy Spirit, we have the potential to develop the character of Jesus and become more like him. But that doesn’t happen overnight. It takes practice.

In Philippians 2:12, Paul urges the church to “continue to work out [their] salvation…” And it’s worth noting that this comes right after Paul’s encouragement to imitate Christ’s humility. We haven’t yet arrived. Our salvation, our faith, must be exercised, worked out, developed, cultivated. See, it’s easy to believe that once we’ve professed our faith, we’ve figured it all out. Are good to go. Have nothing left to learn, no room left to grow. But the truth is, faith isn’t only meant to be professed; it’s also meant to be practiced. All throughout our lives. Our faith is a winding process, or as pastor and author Eugene Peterson famously put it, it’s “a long obedience in the same direction.”

Now it is important to note that practicing our faith doesn’t earn us a thing. We don’t practice our faith in order to be loved. We don’t practice our faith in order to belong. We don’t practice our faith to make up for the ways we fall short. It isn’t a transaction or some sort of requirement. We are already beloved and we already belong. We can rest assured that God’s faithfulness does not depend on ours.

And yet, while practicing our faith isn’t about proving ourselves or our worth, it does aid us significantly as we seek to follow and become more like Jesus. As Dallas Willard often said, “Grace is not opposed to effort, but to earning.”  We are better enabled to become the people God calls us to be when we prioritize the presence of God. When we put our faith into practice, we are cultivating the character of Christ for the sake of the world around us.

So what might it look like to practice our faith in 2023?

It could like like memorizing and studying Scripture. Or journaling your prayers. It might look like meditating on the Psalms. Or listening to centering music in your car. Maybe sharing a meal. Spending time in silence, stillness, and solitude. Going on a walk. Participating in communal worship. Going to therapy or spiritual direction. Visiting a lonely neighbor. Spending time outside. Prioritizing sabbath. Serving in your community. Putting down your phone. Advocating for the marginalized. And hopefully committing to a local congregation so you don’t have to practice alone.

The list could go on. As I {and many others} have mentioned before, faith is not a one-size-fits-all formula or solution. Instead, maybe practices are meant to serve as reminders. As long as they create an awareness of the presence of God and are cultivating in you humility, love, compassion, joy, peace, patience, hope, justice, goodness, etc., well, I’d say they count. The point is that we’re prioritizing practice.

Of course, we won’t do it perfectly or ever-consistently. But even when we find ourselves in a season of struggle, when we don’t have the strength to put in the practice, hope is not lost. Because our faith muscle has a memory.

Let me give you a little metaphorical example of what I mean. I know how to play guitar. In fact, years ago, I used to practice nearly every day and played almost every week. As I was learning and practicing over time, I developed these pretty gross callouses on my finger tips, which helped me play the right chords. The more I practiced, the better guitar player I became. Now, my “best” was pretty much just below average, if I’m being honest. But still, I could play the guitar. However, several years ago, for various reasons, I stopped. My callouses went away. And today, if you were to ask me to play something for you, I wouldn’t be able to. Not well, anyway. Because I haven’t been practicing. I’ve been out of the habit. And while I still know the mechanics of how to play, it would be pretty rough if I actually tried to.

And yet, several months ago, I was asked to play a couple songs at a retreat my church hosted. Against my better judgement, I agreed and gave it a try. A couple weeks before, I picked up my guitar for the first time in years. It was pretty obvious I was out of practice and I wished I still had those finger-tip callouses. But here’s the thing: I was able to play. It wasn’t my best, and I struggled a bit, but I made it work. I decided to play songs I already knew and was comfortable with, and I suppose my muscle memory kicked in. While it was a struggle at first, it was clear that the long-term, consistent practice I’d put in years before stuck with me.

Most athletes, dancers, musicians, or artists have experienced something similar. They’ve put in the practice and created muscle memory. You probably have, too, when riding a bike, driving a car, or even entering a password on a familiar website. After practicing or repeating an action over and over and over again, it sinks in. Becomes almost automatic. And the body remembers.

In the same way, practicing our faith helps us remember. When we inevitably find ourselves weary and struggling, hanging on by a thread, convinced we’ve failed or forgotten it all, the practice we’ve put in makes a difference. Recalling God’s faithfulness serves a purpose.

Maybe grace is like muscle memory. Maybe we aren’t a lost cause. Maybe we can always begin again.

Today, if your faith could use a fresh start, remember to practice. Transformation and growth don’t happen on their own or right away. So, may we gently seek an active faith; may we learn to prioritize what matters; and may we trust the Spirit’s work and process along the way.