Sermon for the 3rd Sunday of Lent – ‘If you don’t succeed first time, try, try again’ preached at the Eucharist, Sherborne Abbey on Sunday, 23 March 2025 by The Reverend Robert Green (Isaiah Ch 55: v 1 – 9; Luke Ch 13: v 1 – 9).
75% of the time, lions fail to catch their prey. Half of fish eggs are eaten, and those of us who have gardens know that not all seeds germinate. This is known as the law of wasted effort, and nature is built on the fact of limited success. Even though a lion will only succeed a quarter of the time, it carries on trying, because their built-in instinct is just to keep on hunting to bring enough food to survive. There is also the strange fact that most of the world’s rainfall falls into the oceans, which may seem pointless in a world where the land needs rain to sustain life. But this balance of effort and success has resulted in a world where most can survive.
It is only humans that see things differently. If we don’t succeed in our first few attempts, we see it as failure. There is an alternative view however, and that is to fail well! I will come back to this a little later.
All this is spelt out in the parable of the barren fig tree, which is part of our Gospel reading this morning. The tree has nor borne fruit for three years; surely enough is enough. It is time to cut it down, but the gardener is not ready to give up on the tree just yet. “Let me give it some attention. If it doesn’t fruit after another year, you can cut it down.” There are echoes of the Old Testament prophets who pleaded with God to give Israel another chance.
Isn’t it true that our attempts to live as God wants are so often dogged by failure? We begin with good intentions, but then find it has all gone wrong. We planned to do the right thing, only for it to turn out to be just what we shouldn’t have done. Or we lack judgement and choose to go with the wrong side, or take the wrong path. Even in the smaller things – our resolve to be calm, not to snap at somebody who irritates us – we can fail spectacularly in an instant when a single word triggers a visceral response from us. We might feel our efforts are wasted and we are back at square one – if only I hadn’t said that; if only I had taken a deep breath. With all that in mind how is our Lent observance going? Have we experienced times of failure, or even disillusionment in our good intentions?
The parable of the barren fig tree gives us hope in two ways. First, we know that Jesus acts like those Old Testament prophets pleading for each of us when we fail. Like the gardener who wants to give the tree another chance, Jesus says to each of us “Let me work with you a little longer”. As with all of God’s creation, the tree, representing our lives, is good and has potential. With a little care it can bear fruit. God is generous, and allows us time to try again and again.
The second cause for hope lies in Nature’s “law of wasted efforts”. Our failures are always of benefit, because we can learn from them. A young lion learns to hunt by trying and failing, and even the adult lion learns from the times it doesn’t succeed; a quieter approach or don’t pounce so early. A lion will keep on trying, because its very life depends upon it. It has been my experience, that more than once when I knew I was going to be late for an occasion through my own fault, I would pray that as I acknowledged my failure, it could be used in some way. (The meeting started late, and I found that I had arrived in time.) I think that is what is meant by “failing well.”
The good news is that despite our failures, which we freely acknowledge, God will never give up on us. Let us take heart that whatever we may have discovered about ourselves in our observance of Lent, our vulnerability, our weaknesses, our anxiety, it merely means that there is more of us to love. A closing prayer:
Father, I will lean in, retreat from the pressures I face,
and move closer and deeper into your love.
I will breathe out, refrain from the distractions I seek,
and become open and receiving of your grace.
I will linger, encircled by the depth of your care,
and receive the endless nature of your mercy.
Amen.