A lesser man would not have tried again. My friend’s first sermon could hardly have been more embarrassing.
After reading his text, he dove into exposition and emerged with impressive admonitions. He was confident in his message about Jonah and the ark. Afterwards, a kindly old man took his hand, leaned forward, and whispered, “It was Noah, not Jonah.”
Another story. I hired a young man to help split wood for the woodshed. I enjoy my wood stove and the aroma of hardwood smoke on a cool fall morning. Anyway, his first swing resulted in a glancing blow. He immediately laid down the maul saying, “I can’t do this.”
For my preacher friend, lack of perfection did not waylay his career as pastor. (It did humble him!) The young man, however, suffered from “maladaptive perfectionism.” He tied his self-worth to his ability to perform, which led to an intense fear of failure.
We Christians have a unique view on failure. As you grow in faith, you learn to recognize the providence of God more and lean less on your own understanding or ability. You trust God for what is missing and for the outcome.
It’s a Biblical theme. Noah (not Jonah) needed God to close the door of the ark. Abraham decamped from his home, trusting God to lead him. God led Gideon to victory with only one percent of his army. Peter walked on water only because Jesus was there. Paul could not endure his life-threatening burdens but for God, who raises the dead.
You can trust that God “is at work in you, both to will and to work for His good pleasure” (Phil. 2:12). But in an unexpected twist, God is also glorified in your imperfections. Paul wrote, “I will rather boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me” (2 Cor. 12:9).
My preacher friend gives God the glory for his ministry. But he will never forget that cringy sermon when he confused Noah and Jonah. As for the young man, he now knows that to fail is to learn.