EPIC FAIL

This isn't my sermon; I'll post that tomorrow. But since I've been thinking about things I haven't been doing, I thought it made more sense to post this tonight, and celebrate success tomorrow. And that way I'm still committed to getting at least two days in a row on here...

My favorite computer game is Spider Solitaire set to high difficulty. I've been playing for years. It took me months to win a single game. Lately, I've been really excited because I'm winning about 10% of my games. I'm thrilled to be at the point where I only fail 9 out of 10 times.

I've never minded losing games like that--and, in general, I'm pretty comfortable with failures of all kinds. Self-help types will tell you that we have to take risks in order to grow, and that a risk--by definition--will sometimes lead us to fail in the things we're trying to accomplish. And I can see how the lessons from my failed jobs, failed projects, and failed relationships have contributed to my non-failures later on. And for pastors, accepting failure is even more important. I'm supposed to be changing lives, and if I ever get to the point where 10% of the people I meet go away finding that their lives have changed, I'll be totally thrilled.

Lately, I've needed to be comfortable with failure just to make it from day to day. My to-do list--the list of things that I've failed to get done--is huge and not getting shorter. If I went to bed with that failure weighing on me, I wouldn't sleep. Like I haven't touched this blog in 6 weeks, even though I've had all sorts of things I've wanted to say. And I haven't failed to find time for other things--like the Spider solitaire I mentioned earlier. If I hadn't posted a Facebook update demanding that random people hold me accountable (thanks Radegund!), I wouldn't be doing this now.

So there is such a thing as being too comfortable with failure. Sometimes we need to fail in order to learn and grow, but sometimes we just need to reject failure, try harder, and get it done. Lately I've gotten back in touch with some family members who I didn't talk to for about 8 years. They're all wonderful people, I missed them the whole time, but for one reason and another I just never managed to make even a single phone call. I got over it and started talking to some of my cousins...just in time to get a call last week from one, who told me that my aunt--an aunt I used to be close to--was being admitted into hospice. She's suffering from cognitive problems bad enough that she wouldn't benefit from a visit. So, my cousin said, I should just plan to come for the funeral.

I'm never going to talk to my aunt again. I can gain wisdom from this experience, I can talk to my other aunts and close friends, use this experience to teach others, find forgiveness, and decide not to beat myself up about it, but I can't talk to my aunt ever again. I wanted to, but I failed.

Maybe it's because I've led three funerals in three weeks, but I've been acutely aware that failure is failure. Every broken relationship, every wasted hour, every unworthy word and deed--each one uses some time and some energy that we can never get back. And so while we need to be comfortable with failure, we can't be too comfortable--to forgive ourselves, but also to challenge ourselves.