I will fail.

When I made the decision to start writing more regularly, there was one major obstacle to overcome. I had to accept this: I will fail.  

Please don’t try to console me, or to “equip” me with hopes that you can prevent it from happening, or to sugar coat it, or deny it. Failure is ugly, for sure. It’s difficult to face, whether you are the one failing, or merely a spectator. And yet, it’s inevitable. If you tell me otherwise, I’ll have to ignore it. I’ve believed for such a long time that hard work, persistence, and an overall commitment to striving and being hard on myself would prevent failure. Or at least, in moments of failure, I would be able to claim success by taking ownership for my failure before anyone else had the chance to perceive me as weak.

Even Thomas Edison denied failure, by re-framing it, when he shared his experiences inventing the light bulb: “I have not failed; I’ve just found 10,000 ways that won’t work.”

I love that quote. I love the feeling of holding failure in my hand, crushing it, transforming it, and shaping it into something new that I am not afraid to hold, proudly, in an open palm.

But I have to ask: what’s so bad about failure, really?

In the “economy of Christ,” He is made strong in my weakness. That’s such a “Christianese” answer, I know. But let me put things into context by explaining what led me to write this entry in the first place:

I’ve been reading other people’s blogs lately, trying to learn more about what is out there and how this whole blog thing works, anyway. (I also think it’s important to support others in their writing if I expect the same in return). It can become quite the time suck, but for now, I’ll say that it has been time well spent. I’ve been inspired, challenged, and generally moved by what I have found, and it feels right to take a break from the sometimes self-absorbed activity of blog writing to admire the talents, gifts, and stories of other people.

But blogs can become battlegrounds. A person, half-realized, commits to the act of writing, to the act of thinking, and as they pour their words out onto the blank canvas—a glimpse into their minds, at the moment—all of their weaknesses, dressed up with the limits of our language, are laid bare. Since it’s public, it’s up for public review, and oh how the anonymous, distant public of the Internet swarm at the chance to criticize.

I haven’t yet faced this. For now, I am grateful for that, as I am learning how to be unafraid as I write. But in the future, I assume I will face it—especially considering the time constraints I have put upon myself—and I am certain it will have its benefits. That it will be part of the beauty that failure can become.

I say it again: I will fail. I will fail in such a way that invites criticism. 

I’m sure that I already have. That I have been wrong. That I have been proud. That I have misunderstood the scriptures. That I will read what I have written one year from now and wonder how I could have missed this or that. That I will open up a can of worms without the qualifications to do so: whatever those may be.

But here is why
I will write anyway:

Because I hope that my writing will encourage more honesty about faith, for believers and non-believers. I hope that I can be a part of a movement of people who are unafraid to ponder the existence and the nature of God, together, despite status or education. And I believe that we will all benefit from it, because I believe that God is near and that He is generous:

If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. (James 1:5)

Because I believe that God is a teacher, and I know firsthand that teachers are patient with their students, see failure as a part of the process, and would rather work with a student who is willing to fail in order to gain, than with a student who remains within the boundaries of their own comforts. Haven’t you heard Picasso’s famous words? “Every child is an artist; the problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up.” Fear of failure suffocates our ability to create and to dream and to speak and to learn. I believe that God reveals Himself, sometimes slowly, and that it is okay to have a developing understanding of who He is. To be an artist, unashamed, growing, expressing, all the way to the grave. 

And because I need only to fear God, and God knows that I will fail. He will not be shocked; He will not be angry. He has already died on the cross, knowing that I am imperfect and in need of His redemption. He will not reply with harsh words of criticism or judge me for the student that I am, but He will have hope for me and the woman that I am becoming. He will meet with me at every step.

Father, Be the leader. Be the lamp unto my feet. Renew my heart and my mind as I read the Bible and write this blog. Correct me, guide me, teach me, forgive me, and keep me humble and alert all the while.

And Father, give my readers eyes to see and ears to hear what You are unfolding in me; give them courage to be unfolding as well.