It’s not a skill we tend to teach. After all, it’s not an outcome we want to see. But learning to fail well is something that every Christian needs to do.
We live post-Fall – frailty and rebellion are constant companions of us all – and there is no way any of us can get through this life (this day, even) without messing up in ways that dishonour the Lord and cause others pain. Anything that happens as often as this needs a well-thought-through plan!
Failing well isn’t as complex as it may sound. It is simply the avoidance of the two unhealthy extremes of (a) being blind to our mistakes, unwilling to ask for grace and (b) being overwhelmed by our sin, unwilling to accept grace. Failing well is the acknowledgment that sin and struggles are normal, that repentance is crucial, that community support in times of failure is beautiful, that grace is abundant and that therefore hope reigns supreme.
There are many contexts in which we can learn how to fail well. The church, however, is the body that has been established as the community of repentance and faith. It should be the ultimate place where both mistakes and misconduct are best understood, where repentance is modelled most clearly and where the application of hope-filled grace is most practically seen.
Often it isn’t though. Often, it’s a desperately hard place to fail.
A failing church
Sometimes that’s because, as worshipping communities, we have grown shy of talking about our failures. The secular culture encourages us not to express guilt or regret, and some of that worldly thinking has slipped into the church.
Sometimes it’s because church communities have pulled away from Paul’s model of sharing not just the gospel but lives as well. We simply don’t know each other well enough to feel safe opening up and so deprive ourselves of community and distance ourselves from words of hope.
Sometimes it’s because a taught theology of grace has been subtly trumped by a functional theology of law. We divide people into good Christians and bad Christians, forgetting that all of us are nothing more than sinners saved by sufficient grace. Or it might be that, as congregations, we have conveniently forgotten that Paul was happy with the title of ‘the worst of sinners’. We pretend that presenting our lives as sorted is wise and expedient rather than a pretty good indication that we’re not being honest with ourselves or the people around us!
A church that fails well
How much more beautiful would it be for our churches to be places where all of us model that prodigal return. How much healthier for them to be places where we see our sin, acknowledge our sin, return to our Father in repentance and know the joy both of restoration with Him and rejoicing with our fellow brothers and sisters who themselves know the wonder of coming home. How much wiser to be communities that embody the Ephesians 4 call to put off our old self, put on our new, and have our minds transformed – together. Actively living lives of repentance and faith – not avoiding our sin or denying the reality of God’s lavish grace, but constantly pointing to His glorious work of forgiving and changing us all.
Some people never quite get the beauty of failing well. Like the prodigal’s older brother, they neither repent nor rejoice. They stay outside: cold, hard, proud and unwilling to change. But, for those who do, there is a fullness of life. Why not pursue it most earnestly now? Quietly talk to someone in your church about some aspect of your sin and ask for their help. Rework one of your talks and add in a sentence that shows how you’ve needed grace this week. Write the next Bible study with a question that goes right to the heart and invites a time of repentance. It’s worth it. It’s delightful. It’s crucial to fail well.
