A Lesson I Have Learned From Failure: Unless failure kills you, your failure is but one chapter of your life. That chapter does not erase the good chapters that came before, nor does it prevent new chapters from being written.
When I failed ‘hard,’ the failure itself took on a life of it’s own. Like a hungry animal, the failure consumed my life, every waking thought and every nightmare. Almost immediately, the failure had all of my identity—it defined me. When I looked back, all I could see was the black veil of my failure. And there was no sense looking ahead, because any sense of future had been devoured by the failure.
Months passed in this state of dark hopelessness and despair. Every conversation referred to it, and those that didn’t tip toed around it, like stepping around an elephant in the room that everyone knew was there. And the elephant was standing on my chest.
I am not sure how it happened, but somewhere, somehow, I began to sense the darkness thinning. Though still dark before me and behind me and around me, it seemed less oppressive; less heavy.
Maybe because a few true Christians encouraged me about forgiveness, maybe because the scriptures spoke so often to my heart about redemption and fresh starts with God, maybe because God whispered into my spirit that He still loved me and had a plan for my life—even after the wreckage of failure---but this I know: eventually I saw glimpses of my former self. I could look behind me and see moments of good, touches of past achievements, memories of previous ministry where God worked in and through my life.
It’s like I could once again pick up the scattered pages of the early chapters of my life, assemble them in some order and re-read them. I started to recall the sweet moments as a dad, the faithful years as a husband, the servant years as a Pastor. My hope was renewed by the discovery that my failure had not destroyed nor erased the previous chapters, the former decades of my life.
And this hope that my past was still there, inspired hope that I might have future chapters still ahead.
No one wants failure to be the end of the story, the final word, the epitaph. As a Christian, we proclaim a gospel (good news) that failure is not final, that in fact, second chances DO exist and that more chapters can be written that give witness to redemption and restoration and renewal.
For a couple of years now, my days have been like words on a page and my weeks like paragraphs, and the years like new chapters. It’s thrilling to be “writing” again. It’s thrilling to add to the positive story that God wants told through my life.
And I have to tell you, if it can happen for me…it can happen for YOU!
When I failed ‘hard,’ the failure itself took on a life of it’s own. Like a hungry animal, the failure consumed my life, every waking thought and every nightmare. Almost immediately, the failure had all of my identity—it defined me. When I looked back, all I could see was the black veil of my failure. And there was no sense looking ahead, because any sense of future had been devoured by the failure.
Months passed in this state of dark hopelessness and despair. Every conversation referred to it, and those that didn’t tip toed around it, like stepping around an elephant in the room that everyone knew was there. And the elephant was standing on my chest.
I am not sure how it happened, but somewhere, somehow, I began to sense the darkness thinning. Though still dark before me and behind me and around me, it seemed less oppressive; less heavy.
Maybe because a few true Christians encouraged me about forgiveness, maybe because the scriptures spoke so often to my heart about redemption and fresh starts with God, maybe because God whispered into my spirit that He still loved me and had a plan for my life—even after the wreckage of failure---but this I know: eventually I saw glimpses of my former self. I could look behind me and see moments of good, touches of past achievements, memories of previous ministry where God worked in and through my life.
It’s like I could once again pick up the scattered pages of the early chapters of my life, assemble them in some order and re-read them. I started to recall the sweet moments as a dad, the faithful years as a husband, the servant years as a Pastor. My hope was renewed by the discovery that my failure had not destroyed nor erased the previous chapters, the former decades of my life.
And this hope that my past was still there, inspired hope that I might have future chapters still ahead.
No one wants failure to be the end of the story, the final word, the epitaph. As a Christian, we proclaim a gospel (good news) that failure is not final, that in fact, second chances DO exist and that more chapters can be written that give witness to redemption and restoration and renewal.
For a couple of years now, my days have been like words on a page and my weeks like paragraphs, and the years like new chapters. It’s thrilling to be “writing” again. It’s thrilling to add to the positive story that God wants told through my life.
And I have to tell you, if it can happen for me…it can happen for YOU!
