In My Failure

What do you do when you're on your 20-something hour of work straight (you don't care about counting anymore) (although it did include sleeping, but when you're the person locking up and listening for anything throughout the night? Still stressful.) and you've worried about this moment all week?

You pull up to the school-building-morphed-into-church in the Big Red Bike with a certain Monkey, and get inside, already trying to control the outcome by explaining things to her. There will be lots of people here you don't know. No, we're not here to get stamps. I brought some books and cereal for you to entertain yourself with. Yes, this is my church. We're not going to be giving hugs out today, okay? Just handshakes, and then, hopefully, only to people you know. 

But already, her eyes are darting everywhere, her 4-year old curiosity going crazy with all the people around her. I escort her down the hallway (code: walking with her while keeping a tight grip... you must know that this is a person who is 5 ft. tall and weighs around the same as I do) and into the gym/sanctuary. We find a seat on the bench in the back and she looks around, frantically signing "Mom" and "Dad." I know that she's looking for my parents... some reassurance in this strange crowd of people.


I see my Mom and it takes me five minutes to get Monkey to understand that I am going to go tell my mom that she wants to see her. No, I am the one going to see her. I don't want you to move, alright?  Walk away three steps and look back to see her rising. Munchkin, stay there, okay? I'll be right back. Watch, make sure she makes eye contact and signs "yes."

Walk to my mom and find understanding in her eyes, since she, too, works with my Monkey, except through the vocational shop here in town. I ask my mom if, perhaps, my family can come sit with us back here, hoping that  it will bring an element of control and peace, safety even. Then, Monkey signs that she needs to use the bathroom, and it goes downhill from there (okay, even further downhill).

I didn't bring another pull-up. Monkey doesn't even want to be here. I'm tired, and I still have 8-or-so hours to go.

What do you do when you're leaning against that door in the women's washroom in the church as she sits on the toilet signing to you, and all you can do is hang your head and allow yourself a brief cry? What do you do?

It wasn't her fault. It was mine.

I had worried about her and church in the week leading up to this weekend alone with Monkey, but I had tried to take every precaution, pull every trick that I knew, use every word of reassurance so that it would end up right.

So that the people around me could see that I was in control.

And that's where it bit.
And it bit hard.

It was all about my pride. I wanted others to see the "good me," the one who had everything under control, who could take anything, make those split-second decisions that would ensure that it would turn out alright.

I had put my selfish desires and wants above and beyond the one who really needed me. My Monkey who needed understanding and enthusiasm from me about her abilities, even when they frustrated me. I had failed. Miserably.

But...

I don't think that it was coincidence that I read chapter three of the book Crazy Love that morning. It was titled, simply enough, Crazy Love.

And it spoke about the overwhelming love of a holy God for His children. For His child. For me.

Of His pursuit, of His longing, despite all that I am. Despite failure.

He knew me before He created me, chose to make me who I am, knowing all that I would do, the pain I would cause Him... but also maybe, okay, definitely, the joy that we would have together:

The word of the LORD came to me, saying, 'Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations.' (Jeremiah 1:4-5)

Think about that. Crazy, huh?


Let me quote some bits from the chapter (you really should read it for yourself {it's written by Francis Chan}):

God's next words to Jeremiah assured me that I need not fear failure:

" 'Ah, Soveriegn LORD,' I said, 'I do not know how to speak; I am only a child.'

But the LORD said to me, 'Do not say, "I am only a child." You must go to everyone I sent you to and say whatever I command you. Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you and will rescue you,' declares the LORD. Then the LORD reached out his hand and touched my mouth and said to me, 'Now I have put my words in your mouth. See, today, I appoint you over nations and kingdoms to uproot and to tear down, to destroy and overthrow, to build and to plant.' " (Jeremiah 1:6-10)


When Jeremiah voices his hesitation and fear, God -- the God of the galaxies -- reaches out and touches his mouth. It's a gentle and affectionate gesture, something a loving parent would do. Through this illustration I realized that I don't have to worry about not meeting His expectations. God will ensure my success in accordance with His plan, not mine.


Next one:

The very fact that a holy, eternal, all-knowing, all-powerful, merciful, fair and just God loves you and me is nothing short of astonishing. 

The wildest part is that Jesus doesn't have to love us. His being is utterly complete and perfect, apart from humanity. He doesn't need me or you. Yet He wants us, chooses us, even considers us His inheritance (Eph. 1:18). 

That really is amazing beyond description. The holy Creator sees you as His "glorious inheritance."
The irony is that while God doesn't need us but still wants us, we desperately need God but don't really want Him most of the time. He treasures us and anticipates our departure from this earth to be with Him -- and we wonder how much we have to do for Him to get by.
{first bold = italicized in the book, second bold = mine}

Last one:

The greatest good on earth is God. Period. God's one goal for us is Himself.

The Good News -- the best news in the world, in fact -- is that you can have God Himself. Do you believe that God is the greatest thing you can experience in the whole world? Do you believe that the Good News is not merely the forgiveness of sins, the guarantee that you won't go to hell, or the promise of life in heaven?

The best things in life are gifts from the One who steadfastly loves us. But an important question to ask ourselves is this: Are we in love with God or just His stuff?

Imagine how awful it would feel to have your child say to you, "I don't really love you or want your love, but I would like my allowance, please." Conversely, what a beautiful gift it is to have the one you love look you in the eye and say, "I love you. Not your beauty, your money, your family, or your car. Just you."

Can you say that to God? 

Our love for Him always come out of His love for us. Do you love this God who is everything, or do  you just love everything He gives  you? Do you really know and believe that God loves you, individually and personally and intimately? Do you see and know Him as Abba Father? 
 {all bolds = italics in the book}


Maybe none of this clicks with the story I told up above. But that day, it did. My failure + His love = nothing but love.

I am so easily distracted from making Him the main goal of my life. Graduating is coming up, diplomas are looming, preparations need to be made, life needs to simplify itself, etc. I need Him so much, but so often I push Him out for "more important things."

But everyday He's showing me that nothing matters except His love. It's what started it all, and what will carry it through.

And although I know that my heart finds it hard to love, He's constantly wooing and pursuing. Plus, He made this heart of mine, so He most definitely knows the secret entrances.

His love. My failure doesn't come anywhere close to reaching the max on that.