Lessons in Lent

Fencing is a constant learning process – not just about the sport, but about myself, about my relationship with God who gave me the gifts I use as a fencer. As part of my involvement in the fencing community, I also referee, which can be an agony, as you have to make decisions on the spot with a lot of people watching and ready to criticize, and I’ve had my share of extremely stressful refereeing experiences.

This past weekend I flew up to San Jose to referee at a national youth tournament, the highest level I’ve refereed at. I was invited to referee because the organizers were short-handed, so I was definitely a junior referee among better refs. I anticipated the worst: being yelled at, messing up, stress, anxiety.

I did make some mistakes. I did have some parents yell at me. But it was not a stressful experience this time. What was the difference? What I had let go.

The first thing I let go was the idea that it was “first or nothing. The last time I was refereeing at an important event, I had something to prove. This time, I had reconsidered what refereeing meant to me: I had let go of the idea of becoming a national-level referee, realizing that I have so many responsibilities already in fencing that I don’t have the time, energy, or interest necessary to develop as a first-class referee. I had also realized that I was still useful, though, as a solid local- and regional-level ref. Recognizing that I am not an outstanding referee, but a reasonably competent mid-level referee, was freeing.

The second thing I let go was the idea that it was all about me. The last time I refereed at an important event, I wanted to be a good referee, but more to the point, I wanted everyone to see that I was a good referee. As I made mistakes, I felt worse and worse about myself, and my anxiety prompted me to make more, and more serious, mistakes. This time, I had learned a little more humility, and I went into the event with eyes open. I knew I was not in the same caliber as the other referees, yet I also knew that I was good enough for the work they’d asked me to do. My intent was to work hard to make as few mistakes as possible, so that the fencers would have the best experience possible. I did make some mistakes, but this time they did not trip me into that downward spiral of anxiety. I was able to take feedback from other referees constructively – never an easy thing – as a way to improve my performance, not as a criticism of me. As a result, my refereeing was better – and I was at peace.

One thing I wasn’t able to let go as I should have was my temper, which came out a couple of times on the first day of refereeing. I have some great role models for patience, not least in my own coach… but it’s a long, slow process to develop that patience myself. But even so, there was a difference – other times I would have been angry at myself for my own temper, and I would have brooded over it, and let it trouble me and affect my refereeing the rest of the day and the next day. This time, I let my own failure go. I was sorry for it; and I resolved to try to do better; but I let go of it. And I did better.

What is the difference?

I refereed better that day because I committed my work to Christ: in a way it sounds odd, but, well, there it is. He would have been with me in failure as well as success. For someone like me, who always strives for perfection and tends to be unsatisfied with anything less than excellence, it was a real gift to feel satisfaction and peace knowing that I had given Him my best – even though that “best” was just competence, not excellence.

It is all gift.

This year, I have been offering up all that I do, in prayer, asking Christ to be present with me in whatever I do; commending all that I do to be for His glory and that alone. I have been committing myself to Christ in what I do, so that I can do all that I can, while trusting to Him for the outcome. It has been a slow process, gradually loosing my clenched grip on the things that matter to me, so that I can freely offer them to Him, and in return receive His gift of the freedom to do the very best with what He has given me. I know that I have only just begun to let go – but even what little I have been able to turn over to Him, is to His glory.

It is all gift.

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