Freedom in Failure
I tried to write an article recently; it did not go well. It’s not the first time I’ve struggled with my writing, and I am certain it won’t be the last. But the stakes felt higher this time.
I had decided in January to make my first writing assignment as a GCD staff writer about unkept New Year’s resolutions. I see now a primary motivation was to be timely and relevant. The words have since gathered symbolic dust in my desktop “writing” folder. Oh, the irony of failing in an attempt to write about how to respond to failed attempts!
I realize now the struggle wasn’t due entirely to a lack of passion on the topic, but instead a lack of personal application. You see, I was coming from a teaching perspective, yet I was unwilling to do the hard work of confronting and sharing examples of my own failure. When an astute editor suggested I include an example of an unkept resolution of my own, I felt my stomach tighten.
I subconsciously wondered, Wouldn’t it be safer to look like I have it all together?
TOXIC PERFORMANCE
This new calendar year brought several major changes. I resigned from my job, started teaching at a university, and joined GCD as a staff writer. These new opportunities have been wonderful, but I’ve found myself drifting toward performance anxiety, seeking validation from a job well-done. I want to prove my worth in these new roles and demonstrate that I’m a valuable addition to the team.
Performance-based identity is like a toxic gas, often undetectable and always harmful. We breathe it so frequently in the cultural air surrounding us that we’ve become numb to its harmful effects.
Having a healthy sense of accomplishment is possible, and working diligently is outright commanded in Scripture. The key factor, however, is always the heart behind it. Am I working for an identity or from an identity that has already been established? Am I working “as for the Lord and not for men” (Col. 3:23) or am I striving for the approval of others and the sense of worth it brings?
When I overvalue performance, I’m believing that accomplishments are what make me good. This works-based righteousness distorts how I see God, other people, and myself. I wrongly see God as distant and waiting for me to prove my worth. I begin to see others either as competition or as a means to an end. I see myself as a collection of “wins” and “losses,” shouldering the entire weight of responsibility to ensure the former category outweighs the latter.
I’m so thankful the gospel enables us to recognize and be freed from the weight of performance-based righteousness! When I find my worth in accomplishments or in other people’s approval, I’m failing to believe what God says is true.
THE TEMPTATION TO HIDE
I appreciate Jeff Vanderstelt’s observation that every Christ-follower is also an unbeliever. In his book Gospel Fluency Jeff says,
When I say we are all unbelievers, I mean we still have places in our lives where we don’t believe God. There are spaces where we don’t trust his word and don’t believe that what he accomplished in Jesus Christ is enough to deal with our past or what we are facing in this moment or the next. We don’t believe his word is true or his work is sufficient. We don’t believe. We are unbelievers . . .
I often don’t believe I am actually a created, chosen, redeemed daughter of God. I don’t live out of the truth that my life exists to bring glory to God alone. Preoccupation with performance reflects a heart bent on bringing glory to myself.
Hiding has been a human reaction to sin since the moment it entered the world (Gen. 3:8). Is struggling or failing at something a sin? Definitely not. But the idolatry that sees failure as a threat to my self-worth is. When I am tempted to hide behind a squeaky-clean image, I’m disbelieving that Jesus already lived perfectly on my behalf, died the wrath-absorbing death I deserve, and has imputed to me all his righteousness.
When I operate as though I must drum up from within myself the strength necessary to go throughout my day, I will inevitably be confronted with my own shortcomings. The frustration or anger that ensues demonstrates unbelief that Jesus got up out of the tomb, ascended bodily where he intercedes for me today, and sent the Spirit to be my constant helper. I’m not believing that it is God alone who supplies all our needs and that “all things were created through him and for him. And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together” (Col. 1:16b–17).
If I feel anxiety about measuring up to a standard of moral behavior or level of performance, I demonstrate the belief that I should be able to do so on my own. How much of my performance-based identity comes from the false hope that there’s some inherent goodness in me? Pelagianism in name is new to me but incredibly familiar in experience. I was raised in a church belonging to a Wesleyan-Arminian denomination, and to say that morality was emphasized is an understatement. In my church, performance was equated with Christianity itself.
But after years of cycling through white-knuckled self-effort and shame-driven hiding, I was confronted by the glorious truth of the gospel.
THERE’S FREEDOM IN FAILURE
By God’s grace I learned the gospel is not “Jesus + my performance.” It’s not Jesus plus anything! I no longer need to look at failures as threats to my lovability or evidences of a shameful lack of faith.
Because of the gospel, I can see failures as opportunities to rest in Christ and continue to submit to the Spirit’s sanctifying work in me. His love for me is richer, his grace more precious, when I rightly understand my need for him. I get to glorify God and point to him, not myself, which brings lasting joy.
As the Spirit redirects us back to the truth, as he helps our unbelief, we are set free. We are free to work without the weight of self-justification. We are free to admit failures without fear of judgment. We are free to celebrate progress, no matter how small it may be. We are free to rejoice in each other’s successes without comparison or jealousy. We are free to have entirely new definitions of what success and failure even are!
No matter what tasks God has put your hands to, remember that he alone is the true source of fulfillment and joy. No rush of a perceived “win” can hold a candle to the soul-deep truth that I belong to Christ. This is based on no merit of my own; in fact, my failures are signposts to his strength made perfect in my weakness. Whatever job he allows me to have, my citizenship remains the same. And no matter how many articles end up dusty and forgotten, the Word will always remain, and he will hold me fast.
