As I prepare to teach a class in the subject area of faith practices, I am well aware that many people of faith profess to have neither the time nor the inclination for any “practices.” They say that they believe in God, and they leave it at that. I respect their freedom to choose that plan, but I have learned that I need practice my faith. I pray that those who choose never to practice need never perform their faith.

A story is told about the great violinist Paganini. Someone invited him to a social gathering in the middle of the afternoon, and Paganini declined. His friend pressed him, but Paganini simply said that he needed to practice.

“Oh, surely you are joking,” his friend said. “The great Paganini? You are the master. You don’t need to practice.”

Paganini replied, “If I miss even one day of practice, I notice. If I miss two days of practice, the conductor notices. If I miss three days of practice, the whole world notices.”

Practicing our faith is much the same. Faith practices build our relationship with Christ in a manner analogous to the way music rehearsals build musical comprehension and artistry. Practice isn’t simply about doing the same thing over and over; it is about the growth in understanding that informs your practice and makes the performance more powerful.

We might take instruction from the behavior of the disciples in the Garden of Gethsemane while Jesus prayed. Jesus invited Peter, James and John to go apart from the other disciples and pray with him. Even Jesus wanted prayer partners as he prayed about the horror that faced him. He prayed so fervently that his sweat was like drops of blood. Jesus, completely human even as he was completely God, truly did not want to endure crucifixion. He prayed in the hope that there might be some other way to save humankind. He wanted the men he had named “friends” during supper to care enough to pray with him.

The friends, however, did not have the stamina to persevere in prayer with Jesus. He prayed for hours, and every time he went back to talk with them, they were asleep. He needed their fellowship in prayer, he needed their companionship, but they were not ready. They could not keep up. They needed more practice. Their faith was not yet up to strength for the work they had to do.

The same thing can happen to any of us. We are cruising along in the highway of life, believing in God without question, when along comes cancer, or the death of a child, or layoff, or divorce. We discover that we are living in a battleground, and we don’t know what weapons are available or how to use them. We need practice.

This is why I am teaching a class on faith practices. The practices of prayer, study, worship, invitation, encouragement, service and giving are not magic bullets against disaster. Skill and finesse in performance of the practices will not magically defuse the crises of human life. The value of practice is not the activity; the value is the way a practice builds relationship with our living Lord.  When football players run through a field of tires day after day, the coach does not reward them with a medal in tire-running. They get the reward in competition when they are able to make plays requiring agility and speed. So it is with us. We ask why it matters that we trust in the living Christ. We wonder why we need to know him better. We dispute the value of prayer or the meaning of stewardship. The practices are not about theology; they are about relationship.

When I was a child, the highway construction season meant that I seldom saw my father. He often left for work before I got up in the morning. It wasn’t uncommon for him to get home after the rest of us had eaten supper. One busy summer, he left so early and returned so late every day that I didn’t see him at all for several weeks. I didn’t notice it happening, but over the summer instead of wishing he would come home I began to fear that he would come home. When he did show up for supper, I didn’t know how to talk to him. We were not practicing the father/daughter relationship, and I, at least, didn’t know how to fix the situation. Fortunately, the season came to an end, and I was able to spend time daily with my father again. My relationship with my father was a cherished part of my life until his death in 1996.

The same thing happens when we fail to spend time with our heavenly father. It isn’t God’s fault. His schedule doesn’t change. He is always near, as David said, “Where can I go from your spirit? Or where can I flee from your presence?” (Psalm 139:17 NRSV) We are the ones who wander. If we want to feel at home with God when trouble strikes, we need to spend time with him before the crisis. That is what faith practices are all about.

“Your life is shaped by the end you live for. You are made in the image of what you desire. “ – Thomas Merton