"I’ll be right on over,” I said, hanging up the phone. What I really wanted was to go back to bed. But here it was, half past midnight, and I was kissing my wife farewell and heading into the office, of all places.

Like many people, I have one of those “day” jobs that sometimes intrude on the night. Usually nothing is lost except a few minutes’ sleep, but this time was different. I couldn’t resolve the issue verbally and my home connection to the company’s computer network was on the fritz. There was nothing left but to deal with the situation in person. On the road, I offered God a quick prayer for a speedy resolution, and especially for the grace to put my faith into action: This was clearly a test of my resolve to accept his will.

Two hours later, my first prayer was still unanswered, though I was holding my own on the second. Realizing that I needed the help of several other people, I phoned the system operator to say that I was calling it quits for the night and would resume the next day. His reply was both prompt and unwelcome: “Since this is a ‘critical’ issue, you’ll need your manager’s approval.”

What? Phone my boss at 2:30 in the morning? Yeah, right. As the refrain “All for Jesus!” danced through my head (in my mother’s voice, no less), I did the dirty deed. Several tense minutes later, my groggy manager showed mercy. I was free to head home — emotionally drained, but relieved to be done for the night.

But God wasn’t finished testing me yet. Returning to my car, which was parked on the street where I normally park off-hours, I noticed a green envelope tucked under the wiper blade. A parking ticket, of all things. That’s right, despite the meter’s “Park free 4:30 p.m. to 8 a.m.” notice, a different sign down the street read: “No parking 2 a.m.-7 a.m. Tues.-Thurs.-Sat.” And it just happened to be Thursday morning. At 2:45 a.m.

I’d like to say I handled the situation gracefully. But I didn’t. My steering wheel took a direct hit and was the lone earthly witness to the audible venting of my frustration. But deep in the recesses of my heart the disconnect between my faith and my conduct was laid bare before another witness: God.

How many of us, time and time again, find ourselves in a predicament where, despite our best intentions, we fall far short of holiness? Even St. Paul lamented: “for I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do” (Romans 7:19). Yet the fact that we today call him a saint tells us everything: God’s mercy is more powerful than our sin, if only we are open to it.

The key to unifying our faith and our actions is asking God’s forgiveness when we falter, receiving his mercy in the sacrament of reconciliation, and moving on. And if we fall again, we ask for mercy again. Over time, the lived experience of God’s mercy will take root deep within and will, bit by bit, strengthen our resolve.

Achieving holiness takes time — a lifetime, in fact. Fortunately, God is patient, giving us new opportunities every day to practice.

So there’s one thing I’m certain of: I’ll have many more chances to give it my best shot. And my next one is surely just around the corner — or, perhaps, is already sitting under my windshield wiper.

Daniel J. Wambeke writes from St. Paul, Minnesota.