As a lifelong — albeit, not terribly strong — weightlifter, I am always searching for new ways to adjust my workout routines. The adjustments might be morning versus evening lifting, high reps versus low reps, which body parts to train together, and hundreds of other variations. I recently came upon a method called “pushing past failure,” which I incorporated into my training. And it didn’t take me long to see its application to the spiritual life.

To understand why, please allow me to explain the method.

Most weightlifting routines are simply a series of repetitions (reps) and sets. For instance, if you lie down on a flat bench, lift the bar 12 times, and put the bar back down, you have done 12 reps and one set of bench presses. Ideally, your body responds by strengthening and growing the pectoral and triceps muscles, so you’ll come back a little stronger next time.

When you begin weightlifting, it is prudent to start slowly and lightly. But as you progress over the weeks and months, you will feel the need to increase the weight. As far as reps go, you have a choice. Should I: 1) perform a predesignated number of reps, or 2) do as many reps as my body seems to allow? That second method is called “training to failure.” Failure is the point at which you feel like you just can’t do any more reps.

But what if you could push past failure, and do more? What if you had one more rep in you? What if you paused for a few seconds, took a breath, and did another rep or two? Or five? Some athletes even have a workout partner assist them in the last rep or two. In essence, that is “training past failure.”

Some spiritual parallels are obvious.

So many times in life, we’re tempted to quit. So often, we follow the impulses of the body to the detriment of the soul. We are tempted, and we resist. That’s good. But then, we’re tempted some more, and some more. At some point, we feel like we’re exhausted by the reps of temptation, and we give in. We fail. The terrible irony is that we actually had one more rep left in us. And little did we know, but God would have sent an angel to help us perform that last rep.

And that last rep is the one that makes all the difference.

Today especially, as we accompany Christ in his agony, we’re reminded of the real weight he bore — not just the wood of the cross, but our sins, our failures, and our temptations. The Apostles in the Garden of Gethsemane were tempted to sleep. Surely, they wanted to stay awake, at least initially. Maybe they had already performed several hour-long reps of staying awake. All they needed was one more rep — one more hour — of prayer. Yet, they slept.

But Jesus pushed past “failure,” and we see that in his carrying of the cross. Under the massive weight of the wood, Jesus fell three times, and three times he picked up his cross. Thus, there was no failure at all.

The carrying of the cross gives rise to another truth: we can assist one another in training past failure.

If my daughter has fallen away from the Faith, I can overcome my hurt and pride to maintain a relationship with her. If she refuses to light a candle in the darkness, I can light the candle for her. Maybe I can even be that candle.

If my daughter is sick, I can find ways to alleviate her pain and remind her of the value of suffering in union with Our Lord’s Passion. We know that an angel consoled Jesus in the Garden. I can ask that very same angel to console my child.

If my wife is having a hard time forgiving another person, I can lead her in prayer for the other. And I can pray for both of them. I can perform the next one, two, or five reps for her. Even the most accomplished powerlifter needs a spotter. With God’s grace, I can do that.

One last point, and it’s a beautifully important one to remember beyond Good Friday. We’re sinners, and sin can make us feel like failures. I’ve been there. Maybe you’ve been there, too. But sacramental Confession pulls us past failure. Even if we have committed mortal sin — even if we’ve committed countless mortal sins — the sacrament of Penance pulls us out of that moral failure so we can get back in the gym and begin another workout.

With Christ by our side.