The Fear of Failure and the Mercy of Christ
Our dishwasher had broken five days before, and the pile in the sink was becoming unwieldy, ready to tip at the weight of one more soap bubble. When we needed a knife or a spatula, I would wriggle one free and scrub it well enough to keep us alive, but honestly, I was desperate for my new appliance to arrive in a couple of days.
It was more than that, though. I was impatient for the dishwasher delivery because I was desperate to feel like one area of my life was under control. We had houseguests arriving in less than a week and fall cleaning was in full swing, so the house felt chaotic. I’d completely missed an article deadline and was chasing my own tail to finish it. My best friend—and her daughter, my own daughter’s best friend—had moved away the week before, and I was struggling to shepherd my daughter’s heart as I dealt with my own grief. And on top of all that, my hormones felt wonky.
House, work, friendships, parenting—in every part of my life, I was failing to measure up to the tasks and needs in front of me. My tendency had always been to work harder, push more, and sleep less. The problem was that now, squarely in middle age, I couldn’t push the way I used to. Exhaustion was catching up with me, and no matter how hard I tried, it seemed I was still dropping balls in multiple areas. It felt scary to be unable to fix the ways that I was falling short.
And yet, one of the beautiful facets of the good news of the gospel is that Christ Jesus has an answer for our failures—and it’s not what we expect.
Jesus’s Response to Failure
In the Word, true failure has to do with willingly turning from the good we know we are called to do: “So whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin” (James 4:17). For example, when we refuse to extend grace and forgiveness to our spouse or our children or our friends, even though we know we have been forgiven more than we could ever repay[1]—that is sin. And yet, even in our sin, Christ extends immense mercy, forgiveness, and grace to his children.
Peter experienced that compassion in his failure the night of Christ’s betrayal. Peter had claimed he would die for Jesus rather than deny him,[2] and instead, he cowered and failed his Lord.[3] But rather than shutting Peter out or casting him aside, Jesus drew close to Peter and forgave him—and then reinstated him to the role of leader in his church.[4] Likewise, when we come to Christ in repentance and call him Lord, he stands ready and willing to forgive us of our sins, time and again, in order to restore our hearts and bring glory to his name.
Limitations vs. Failure
Much of what I was experiencing on the day of the leaning tower of dishes wasn’t true failure—although the failure certainty felt real. I wasn’t failing because I couldn’t do everything well in every area of my life. I was simply feeling the reality of my own limited capacity—that I wasn’t a machine with endless energy, wisdom, and strength. As a mother, wife, and employee, I have limits to what I can do in a day. I need to sleep; I need to eat; I need to rest. Yes, we are called to be diligent stewards of what the Lord has entrusted to us. But we shouldn’t hold ourselves to standards that aren’t biblical or wise. The house is never going to be spotless—because multiple humans live in it. We won’t ever parent our children perfectly—because we are imperfect.
Still, the reality of our limits doesn’t give us carte blanche to go lazily through our days. In Christ, the opposite is true: we are called to be industrious, excelling in our work and responsibilities for his sake![5] I should aim to be a loving spouse, an engaged and present parent, and a hard worker—all because Christ has called me to work as unto him.
Addressing the Fear of Failure
Many of us fear failure, in part, because we hate how it makes us feel when we don’t do things as well as we’d like—or when we bump up against our human limitations. We worry about what failure means for our identity or our value. Will we still be loved when we fail or fall short? But we don’t have to be driven by that feeling—or that fear. What we get to do, instead, is respond biblically to that emotion. Here are three ways:
Name the lie. It might be true that you failed an exam, failed to respond gently to your child, or failed to turn a work project in on time. And there may be feelings of grief or sorrow over those losses and lack of excellence. But failing at doing something perfectly doesn’t make you, as a person, a failure. We are not what we do; our performance doesn’t determine our value. Instead, our identity and worth is found fully and completely in the person of Christ Jesus. There is really only one way to ultimately fail as a person, and that is to reject Jesus as Lord and Savior. But believers in Christ are not failures. Rather, we are constantly being sanctified, and through his life, death, and resurrection, Christ has attained our perfection for us—we do not have to earn it on our own: “For by a single offering he has perfected for all time those who are being sanctified” (Heb. 10:14).
Boast in your weakness! Turn the fear on its head and work toward embracing failures as an opportunity for the gospel to shine through. True, most of us don’t want to be known for what we’ve failed at. And yet, to come to Christ at all demands that we acknowledge our failure to live a perfect life or somehow attain our way to heaven. The gospel shows us the gift of being a weak vessel, for there we can see that God’s “power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Cor. 12:9). When we run into our own limitations and our need for forgiveness, we will find God’s power and grace available to us in abundance.
Go for a walk, knead some bread, or do something physical. Often, when we start to wallow in untrue feelings, our mind spirals to unhelpful places. If you are feeling bombarded with feelings of failure, make the choice to move your body and focus on biblical truth: God made you,[6] he loves you,[7] and he has saved you.[8] You don’t have to be afraid.[9]
If the dishwasher never gets replaced and we eat off of plastic plates and spoons for the rest of our lives, I don’t have to be afraid that I’m a failure as a mom. If our guests arrive to a house with messy floors and a few cobwebs lingering, I don’t have to fear being a failure as a friend. I’ll simply be a woman who needs grace and help, a woman who has been saved by the mercy of Jesus, and a woman who will boast in her all-sufficient God. Those of us who are in Christ never ultimately fail, because our victory comes from the cross and the empty grave—and those beautiful things never depended on us to begin with.
[1] Matthew 18:21-35
[2] Matthew 26:35
[3] Luke 22:54-62
[4] John 21:15-19
[5] Colossians 3:23-24
[6] Psalm 139:13-16
[7] John 3:16
[8] Titus 3:3-7
[9] John 14:27
