There are some things in life that are simply more beautiful after they have been well used.
An old family Bible with dog-eared pages. A favourite armchair whose cushions have quietly surrendered after years of faithful service. A wooden spoon that has stirred enough soups to qualify for honorary citizenship in the kitchen.
And then there is the worn baseball glove.
When I was growing up, a new baseball glove was a rather stubborn piece of equipment. It was stiff enough to qualify as building material. Catching a ball with it often felt like trying to catch a meteorite using a frozen loaf of bread. The glove would snap shut only after considerable persuasion, repeated oiling, countless games of catch, and, according to neighbourhood legend, sleeping with it under your mattress.
Whether that last technique actually worked remains one of the great theological mysteries.
But over time something wonderful happened.
The leather softened. The pocket became deeper. Every catch left a tiny memory behind until the glove no longer looked new. It looked right. It had been shaped by thousands of moments.
You could almost tell who owned it simply by looking at it.
That makes me wonder if perhaps faith works much the same way.
When most of us first begin following Christ, we imagine holiness should happen quickly. We assume a few Bible studies, several earnest prayers, and perhaps one particularly inspiring sermon ought to complete the transformation.
Instead, God smiles patiently and seems content to play a much longer season.
Ordinary Time reminds us that disciples are not manufactured. They are formed.
Prayer after prayer.
Worship after worship.
Conversation after conversation.
Act of kindness after act of kindness.
None of these moments seems particularly dramatic on its own. But together they slowly shape the soul until grace fits us more naturally than it once did.
Saint Paul hints at this steady work when he encourages us not to grow weary in doing good (Galatians 6:9). Why? Because spiritual growth is usually less like fireworks and more like leather being gently softened over many seasons.
The world often celebrates things that look brand new.
God seems remarkably fond of things that have been faithfully used.
The experienced teacher.
The grandparent who quietly prays every morning.
The volunteer who has set up chairs for thirty years without expecting applause.
The Christian whose face has acquired those wonderful smile lines that come from decades of choosing hope over cynicism.
These people may show a little wear around the edges.
So did Moses.
So did Peter.
So did Paul.
And certainly so did Jesus.
Perhaps that is why I have never entirely trusted spirituality that appears perfectly polished. It usually has the look of a glove that has spent its entire life on a sporting goods shelf.
A glove becomes useful only after it has been stretched, scuffed, rained upon, baked in the summer sun, and occasionally forgotten in the trunk of the car until someone discovers it the following April with great relief.
The Christian life can feel rather similar.
There are seasons when life stretches us.
There are moments that leave us with a few spiritual scuff marks.
There are disappointments that soften our hearts in ways success never could.
Yet somehow God keeps shaping us through every inning.
The remarkable thing is that the older glove often becomes the one everyone wants to borrow. It catches almost effortlessly because it has learned its purpose through years of faithful use.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful if our souls became like that?
Not flawless.
Not shiny.
Simply trustworthy.
Softened by grace.
Ready to catch whatever opportunities God tosses our way.
By the time the final inning of life arrives, perhaps our greatest compliment will not be that we remained untouched, but that we were wonderfully worn by love, faithful service, and the gentle hands of God.
After all, the Master has never been looking for brand-new leather.
He has always preferred hearts that have learned how to catch grace.
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Companion Prayer
Gracious God,
Thank you for the slow work of your Spirit in our lives. When we become impatient with our own growth, remind us that you are not hurried. Shape us through the ordinary days, the joyful moments, and even the seasons that leave us feeling a little worn.
Soften our hearts with your grace. Deepen our faith through faithful practice. Make us people who are ready to receive your blessings and eager to share your love with others.
May our lives bear the beautiful marks of time spent in your hands, until we become trustworthy disciples whose greatest strength comes not from appearing perfect, but from having been shaped by your enduring love.
In the name of Jesus Christ, our Teacher, our Redeemer, and our Friend.
Amen.