The Four Letter Word We All Hate

It’s the four letter word no one wants to acknowledge but everyone experiences : F-A-I-L.

Does anything make a person feel worse than failure?  I doubt it.

Whether it’s failure in parenting (I promised myself I wouldn’t handle things that way);  Failure at work (How could I have possibly messed up that opportunity?);  Failure in relationships (Why didn’t it work out the way I wanted it to?); Or failure in a million other ways, failure is part of our humanity.

Admittedly, it’s not a great part.  But it’s a real part.

So why do we have such a hard time admitting failure? Or granting ourselves a little grace when we fail?  Or giving others grace when they fail?

How come we have such a hard time handling being anything but perfect?  All. The. Time.

It’s an exhausting way to live. And it’s downright unhealthy. Why?  Because failure doesn’t necessarily divide or destroy, but failing to admit it, does.  Failure to forgive it does.

Sweet girl, may I whisper something into your ear?

Failure isn’t who you are.  Failure is something you do. So don’t ever let failure define you; let it refine you.

When I was a child, and even into my teen and college years, whenever I would mess up my mom used to say “Honey, this is just one of life’s little learning lessons”.  I didn’t think much about it then (except that it always made me feel better) but her words must have stuck because my kids tell me I make everything “a learning lesson.”

As in “Moooooom, do you seriously have to turn this into a learning opportunity?”

Hmmmm…..well, yes.  I guess I do.

Here’s why:  I figure if I can learn a thing or two from my failures they aren’t wasted.  They haven’t defined me—they’ve refined me.

Even as I type this my mind is transported back to our first year of marriage.  JP made me furious—over what, I have no idea—but I’m pretty certain I’d set some ridiculous standard and I felt he’d failed in some area of husband-hood.  So for the first time in my life I welded the weapon known as “the silent treatment”.  There was one small problem with my strategy:  he didn’t notice.

This, of course, blew my plan, adding fuel to the already hot fire playing out in my head. After a few sharp words I found myself alone in the bathroom, blow-drying my hair, naturally replaying the whole scenario over in my mind.

I stared at the hurt, angry, confused girl in the mirror and wondered where it all went wrong.  I wanted to be a good wife.  I wanted to be a loving person. I wanted to live like Christ made a difference in my life. But I failed miserably. There was just no covering it up.  I know now that’s a good thing.  It’s good because only those who know they sin know they need a Savior. Then a stark realization popped into my brain. Here’s what I remember thinking (honestly, these are the exact words that came to my mind):

Note to self:  the silent treatment doesn’t work.  Don’t use it again. Ever.

And you know what?  I haven’t.

Yes, I failed.  But I learned.  And I’m still learning because I’m still failing at something or another. We all are.

Failure isn’t who you are.  It’s what you do. You can deny it or defend it but these things don’t end it or mend it.

Admit it. Learn from it. Forgive it.

Move on.

Let’s be honest about the four letter word we all hate in ourselves and in others. Let’s practice repentance and grace. No—let’s live repentance and grace. Failure doesn’t have to define you if you let it refine you.

P.S. Speaking of failure, I posted a short video in last week’s post and although it worked on my website, if you subscribe to my blog via email, you couldn’t view it.

Yep.  I failed.  Sigh.

But I think I’ve learned how to add media to by blog (at least I’m hoping I have) so I’m giving the video a try again.  It’s short and encouraging and I hope you love it as much as I did. Click here to see it.  Just in case, here’s the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_K56V86j2ng).

But if it doesn’t work, give me a little grace, OK? I’m still in process.