Celebration of Failure

Rather listen to this blog? Listen to “Celebration of Failure.”

I am fiercely competitive and hate to lose. Failure and I have long been mortal enemies.

Yet, the older I get, the more I cross paths with failure. In just this week, I have failed to always answer in kindness, complete my to-do list on time (sorry, Lexi), and spend time daily in God’s word.

Let’s just stop there because, let’s be honest, it’s just not fun to think about all the ways we’ve failed. It’s demoralizing and embarrassing.

Somewhere along the way, “celebrating” our shortcomings has become trendy - as if we have all transcended the stigma of failure. I call shenanigans! I think we might be willing to show a “failure” or two on social media, so long as it gets us an underlying “win.” If I show you my messy room, you’ll see how great a parent I am for putting quality time with my children above cleaning. If I show you my #nofilter photo, it’s probably because I think I look awesome without it.

Real failure, though, can’t be avoided. We’re constantly pushed to take chances, criticized even for the ones we’re too afraid to take. These chances have only two possible outcomes: A - success, the big score, a promotion straight to the top, fame, and fabulous glory, or B - utterly miserable and shameful failure. The ball slips from our fingertips and the other team retrieves it. The presentation that seemed edgy and creative in the drawing-room flops when faced with conference room criticism. At the end of our journey of chance, fame and glory mock us as they escape down the other corridor. No matter the situation, the aftermath of failure is always the same: We are left with our chins on our chests, tears in our eyes, and the weight of disapproval and shame crushing our shoulders.

But why? Why do we so quickly forget the bravery of our attempt? We march into battle knowing there is an equally likely chance we will fail as excel, and yet we march on. What courage! Failure should not be the scourge of our culture; on the contrary, we should celebrate the path that sometimes leads to it.

There has never been a better instructor than Professor Failure. In his classroom, we are tested on perseverance, quizzed on humility, and made to dissect and examine our humanity. If we pass his class, we’ve done something indeed. God, too, is equally in our victories as he is in our collapses. Perhaps it is when we’ve fallen the hardest that we feel His embrace the most, as he envelopes his children in the promise of His perfect will for our lives. The world may shout, “Go! Fight! Win,” but will we revel instead in that soft voice whispering, “not your will, but mine”? When prayerfully trusting in God’s guidance, failure could be a proverbial step in the right direction - the direction towards God’s will for our lives. What better victory could there be in moving closer to the Lord?

To fail is to find yourself in the company of greatness. Failure is historic! Great men have fallen; the famous have stumbled; leaders and heroes have taken turns dusting themselves off and beginning anew. To research every person who’s ever experienced that black shame is to simultaneously research the entirety of history - a ponderous feat. Let us, then, dwell on what appeared to be the greatest failure of all.

A shame to his followers. A mockery to his foes. This man was born to greatness, only to crumble in the hands of those he’d been chosen to overcome. The world looked on in scorn as Jesus of Nazareth stumbled carrying His own wooden death sentence to the hill of the skull. Satan himself scoffed as Jesus drew His final breath. The disciples ran and hid at the fall of their future. To most human eyes, Jesus’ defeat meant He wasn’t who he claimed to be.

What a disappointment…what a failure he must have seemed at the time.

The twelve must have felt the sting of disillusionment. The Pharisees must have basked in their self-righteous excitement at his demise—a deeper sting. Those yet undecided on his origin and purpose probably turned from the cross shaking their heads. They had known all the time this man was too good to be true. How they must have mocked those twelve men for actually believing all that rubbish he told them.

However, one set of eyes looked down at the scene and, though mournful for the pain, exulted in the outcome He knew would arrive in but three short days. And then what victory. So it was through what appeared to the world as the worst kind of failure - Jesus, the hope of mankind, the long-awaited Messiah, dying a criminal’s death - that all of humankind was granted victory.

We are always thankful for our triumphs, but can we learn to be thankful for our failures as well?

I have decided to try.

I will praise the Lord and even hope for failure if success would lead me away from God.

I will celebrate the closing of doors God did not want me to open.

I will rejoice that I am human enough to still need a Savior and a Guide.

I will delight that I may better understand others’ sorrow because of my own.

I will thank the Lord for turning me down the path He would have me walk, for I know if He is turning me, He must be close enough to touch, to feel.

Let us all hope for enough failures in our lives to keep us walking with the Lord on the path He has prepared for us—and, oh, what victory will be ours then!