The beginning of a new year has a way of pointing our attention outward.
New goals. New plans. New optimism. In sport, it’s the season of fresh jerseys, fresh talk, and hopeful predictions. But beneath the surface, the most important work happening in January is far less visible – and far more uncomfortable.
It’s review.
Every serious sporting environment begins the year by looking backward. Footage is replayed. Errors are paused on the screen. Missed assignments are named.
No one enjoys it, but everyone understands its necessity. You don’t improve by pretending weaknesses don’t exist, or by talking only about what you do well. Growth begins when shortcomings are faced honestly.
That requires accountability.
Players coming off a disappointing season aren’t invited to ignore their flaws or redefine them as strengths. They’re asked to own them.
Fitness that dipped is addressed. Defensive lapses are drilled. Skill deficiencies are exposed, not hidden. The aim isn’t humiliation – it’s honesty. Improvement demands it.
The Christian life asks for the same courage.
The New Year tempts us to focus on surface-level resolutions while avoiding deeper examination. We promise to be better, more disciplined, more prayerful – yet often without naming what actually stands in the way.
Real conversion, however, begins with looking inward. Not to condemn ourselves, but to acknowledge where we have resisted God, compromised, or grown complacent.
This kind of self-examination is difficult because it strips away excuses. It confronts the habits we’ve learned to tolerate. It reveals patterns we’d rather ignore. And like a player watching their own mistakes on screen, it can be uncomfortable to see ourselves clearly.
But faith, like sport, does not grow through avoidance.
God does not ask us to hide our weaknesses behind our strengths. Rather, he asks us to bring them to him.
Grace is not poured out in the areas we already feel confident in, but in the places we’re willing to expose. This is why sacraments like Reconciliation are so important in our spiritual lives. Confession, at its heart, is an act of accountability – naming our failures honestly and inviting God into them.
Sport understands something essential here. Players don’t spend pre-season focusing only on what makes them feel good.
They work on what costs them games. They return to drills they dislike. They submit themselves to processes that challenge pride. They accept correction because they know comfort never produces growth.
The spiritual life demands the same discipline.
As the year begins, the call is not to reinvent ourselves or protect our image, but to take responsibility. To ask where we’ve fallen short. To welcome God into precisely those areas we’d prefer to avoid. Not so we can dwell on failure, but so we can be formed by grace.