Failure Isn’t Failure

This summer I went to a conference in Cancun with our close friends, Ricky and Tiffany.  One day we were antsy for fun and decided to go body boarding. Our kids were laughing and flailing in the water. We made our way across the white sand with body boards in hand and jumped in the warm salty water.  Everyone was in a playful mood. I saw Ricky get out to grab another board. A few seconds later I caught a wave that flipped me over the top of my board and turned me around like a washing machine. I stood up to catch my breath; half laughing and coughing up water. I saw Ricky making his way back in and almost instantaneously another wave hit and took me with it, slamming me into Ricky. We both fell over. I thought it was hilarious how clumsy I was. I stood up and felt muddy sand fall off me. Wet salty hair covered my face while I open-mouth laughed. “Sorry!”, I yelled. He laughed and we continued on like this for the rest of the afternoon. I didn’t feel embarrassed because I was enthralled in fun. I learned something too. After the wipe out I figured out how to position my self on the board and shift my weight to partner with the wave. I didn’t care about performance. I was simply having fun.

Photo by Stas Ostrikov on Unsplash

Later on, I did a devotional for the youth at the conference. When I walked in, I watched a game of tag spontaneously erupt. A kid tried to jump over two chairs but his foot caught the top. He fell face first, grunted, and without skipping a beat jumped up and started running again. I watched him laugh at himself while trying to catch his breath and escape the kid chasing him. Next time, he went around the chairs. The fall didn’t cause shame or embarrassment because he had a heart posture of play.

“Learn this well: Unless you dramatically change your way of thinking and become teachable like a little child , you will never be able to enter in. Whoever continually humbles himself to become like this little child is the greatest one in heaven’s kingdom realm.” —Matthew 18:3-4 TPT

Those of us trying to work for God take ourselves too seriously. We’re like infants holding plastic hammers. We bang it against daddy’s work bench and squeal as the nail enters the wood convinced we had something to do with it, oblivious to His metal hammer working powerfully and meticulously.  I can imagine the Father looking on with delight—enjoying our presence and “partnership”. He doesn’t really need us there. Actually, sometimes we’re more of a nuisance. The pleasure on His face and His affection toward us feels delightful though, doesn’t it? He loves it when His kid hammers and builds and says, “Daddy, Daddy, look at me! Look what I did!”. We all long for His gaze or to hear, “well done kiddo!”.

We have a saying in my family: “failure isn’t failure it’s just an opportunity to learn”. Thomas Edison conducted thousands of iterations and experiments before he found suitable material that would work effectively in a lightbulb. The same could be said for the Wright brothers who fine tuned their understanding of lift, control and stability until they took flight.  What if they gave up the first time they tried and failed? Why are we so afraid of failure? So risk averse? I think the feeling of embarrassment and shame is what we’re actually afraid of. So, we stay small and hidden.

This summer I observed those feelings didn’t hold power when there was a posture of play. It takes humility to acknowledge we aren’t the ones doing the heavy lifting. But, it’s true. So, why not lighten up? Lean into child-like wonder and try something new or pick up that old hobby you loved but started to take too seriously. Learn the piano, go surfing, ask her out, call the friend who hurt you, paint the picture, write the story—whatever is it. Be light hearted when you fail and then learn. Do the thing your gut tells you to try but the bullies of your past threaten you with feelings of shame. Laugh it off and try again. Make the needed shifts and iterations, but don’t give up. Failure isn’t failure it’s just an opportunity to learn.  At the very least you’ll have more fun stories to tell and at best, you’ll discover what you were made for.