In Dr. Seuss’ children’s classic, The Cat in the Hat, there are two “Things” that cause havoc in the house while Mom is away. I speculated a little about Thing #1 yesterday, but today, with Marti’s help, we’re letting them both loose, and then, just like the Cat in the Hat, Marti will blow through here with her cleanup contraption that will hopefully make some sense of it all.

I have been hiding my failures by sequestering myself inside my own pain. To be sure, in public I will greet you with a huge smile and a feigning but compelling attitude of interest in how you are. You may with all sincerity inquire of my life and I will say, “I am fine. I am all right. I absolutely couldn’t be better.” If pressed to continue, I will tell you of the successes in my life, how wonderful everything is, and yes, how everyone is doing so very well, thank you.

My failures I’d rather forget, yet in the forgetting, I am left isolated. Missed opportunities, stupid choices, and bloody mistakes cause horrifically condemning feelings and agonizing thoughts of regret. These thoughts and feelings work overtime in my mind, causing me to be intimidated by my own shadow, let alone people I regard and respect. Everyone looks bigger than me, and certainly always better than me. So I work even harder to put “my best foot forward,” which is always followed by feelings of inadequacy and a sense of not measuring up to anyone except those I consider less than me. I retreat. I cannot pay attention to my heart and it is longing to be touched. No, not even love can call me out of this fearful place until I rarely go out at all.

And in this place of self-condemnation, I can always find pleasure in dwelling on the failures of others. I may have made “errors in judgement,” but I did not fail like (s)he did. So why am I feeling weak and small? Why do I need to leave every time (s)he comes in the room? Why do I need to find someplace safe? Why doesn’t (s)he hide in isolation and why is it me that is afraid to venture out?

What releases me from the grip of these debilitating thoughts is a growing realization of how God actually uses failure in my life to accomplish His purposes. That’s when I find out that, lo and behold, I am called to failure. Thing #1 and Thing #2 have wreaked havoc in my life, but God is pulling a cat out of the hat. He has a way of making sense of this mess in a way that makes use of my failures — indeed, is not possible without them.

I think it is the poetic genius of the Lord to choose to use my deficiencies and failures to enable me “to find the heart of man,” where His love interrupts the consequences of my actions and thus is able to connect with other’s feelings. This is Grace in action; right before our very eyes, grace is defying reason and logic, where empathy flows freely to others who like me know they have failed. It is pretty easy to be there for someone who is a looser like you, to accept them as they are and love them like no other can.

I am called to failure.

To regret is to isolate my heart. To regret is to agonize over previous catastrophes and megaflops, where memories continue to intimidate. To regret is to turn away from love. To regret is feel so inadequate that you are too afraid to venture out.

To accept failure is to know love and give life. It means accepting the things that have happened and the things that I have done as simple evidence that I cannot make it on my own. I cannot even put my “best foot forward” without stumbling. To accept failure is to know that I am very good at blowing it and He is very good at using it. I am weak; He is strong; and it is by His strength through my weakness that He expresses such unfathomable power through His free flowing grace to me, and then outwards through me to others with His great compassion, sensitivity, wisdom and understanding.

My failures are redeemed and put to God’s intended purpose, making my failure no longer ruinous. Rather, I am called to failure and owe much to each day that I fail. The lessons that I learn in my failures, “are worth the price of the gale,” as expressed in this beautiful lyric by George Matheson (1842-1906) Scottish theologian, preacher and hymn writer.

A Call to Failure

I had a call to a mission,
          Signed in my heart and sealed,
And I felt my success was certain,
          And the end seemed already revealed;
The sea was without a murmur,
          Unwrinkled its even flow,
And I heard the master commanding,
          And I was constrained to go.
 
But out from the peaceful haven,
          There woke a terrible storm,
And the waves around were in chaos,
          And the land appeared without form
And I stretched my hands to the Father
          And cried in a chilling fear,
“Didst not Thou pledge Thy presence!
          And naught but failure is here!”
 
Then in the midst of the thunder
          There rose a still, small voice,
Clear through the roar of the waters,
          Deep through their deafening noise:
“Have I no calls to failure!
          Have I no blessing for loss!
Must not the way to thy mission
          Lie through the path of thy cross?”
 
It came as a revelation
          It was worth the price of the gale;
To know that the souls that conquer
          Must at first be the souls that fail.
To know that where strength is baffled
          I have reached the common ground
Where the highest meet with the lowly
          Where the heart of man is found
 
For the wings of the storm that smote me
          Were the wings of humanity’s breast
As it moved on the face of the waters
          And sighed for an ark of rest.
O door of the heart’s communion
          My Father gave me the key
When he called me out to the ocean,
          And summoned the storm to me.

Next week will be week three in a five-part series on “What is Worship?” I am teaching in an adult education class at Irvine Presbyterian Church, 4445 Alton Parkway, Irvine, California. The class is in the Jack Davis room at 9 a.m. on Sundays. Those of you in southern California are invited to attend. We’re over a little after 10:00 so you might have time to get to your own church service, or you are certainly welcome to attend the morning service at IPC at 10:30 a.m.. The sessions are being recorded so if the rest of you would like to listen in, the audio can be found by clicking HERE. Hope to see some of you there next Sunday.