Failure—we don’t even like the sound of the word. Our success-and-results-oriented society doesn’t allow space for failure. We are told, “If you dream it, you can be it!” The pressure is on, and if something is slipping out of our grasp, we try to cover it up, fudge the books – anything to ensure no one thinks anything but the best of us! There is an instant sense of condemnation if we don’t meet this unspoken standard of “perfection.”
“Our greatest fear should not be of failure, but of succeeding at something that really doesn’t matter.” This quote from D.L. Moody caught my attention a few days ago. It’s true – we are afraid to fail! Once we start something, we refuse to retreat until it is done perfectly. When we set out to pursue a goal while inwardly hoping to gain the approval of others, we will do whatever it takes to be successful. Modern society seems to have narrow definitions of the words success and failure. Success – everything you set out to do worked out, and you are extremely happy. Failure – you messed up, things didn’t go as planned, and you are unhappy and unsatisfied. These definitions are a little short-sighted; they are results-oriented. They focus on measurables and positive feelings without considering the full picture of how something has impacted our lives and those around us.
The truth is, sometimes the goals we pursue are not the best for us. Perhaps the job promotion, the weight-loss goal, the new house, or relationship status don’t really matter. Maybe the accomplishment has come to mean more to you than your relationship with God. I admit I am not the one to say what “really matters.” What truly matters is different for each of us.
So, how do we honestly evaluate if a goal is worth pursuing? How do we know what really matters? Again, this will vary for each person and even in different stages of each of our lives. Let me share a personal story that helped me learn to evaluate what “really” matters.
A few years ago, I had the privilege of spending time with my uncle on some of the last days of his life. I know it sounds crazy, but these were some of the most influential moments of my time with him (and I spent much time with him as a child). He knew he had little time on earth, and I have never met anyone so at ease. He wasn’t frantic or worried. He was thrilled to see every person who came to visit him. He was excited to have the opportunity to have conversations with and hug the people who cared for him and had been part of his story. He wasn’t worried about what he looked like, what clothes he had on, or the balance of his bank account. And without all those cares of the world, I saw a man truly investing his remaining time on earth, loving others. He didn’t speak negatively about anyone when they left. He didn’t comment on how anyone had hurt or offended him. He was grateful for every moment he had to invest in the lives of others. I left the hospice changed – and crying.
I have never been to a funeral where someone said, “Well, thankfully, they were able to control their weight their whole life.” Or “Good thing she worked 60 hours a week to get that promotion.” The things we often strive for don’t really matter, do they? I do not intend to shame or condemn anyone pursuing a new goal. It’s not always wrong to work toward new accomplishments. But I encourage you to ask yourself: Is the goal driving you to love others well? Or is it causing division and strife in your relationships? Do you own the goal, or does the goal own you?
In eating disorder recovery, it became clear that my “healthy eating” and weight loss goals had consumed an excessive amount of my time and mental energy. I was so focused on being the skinniest, healthiest, most perfect woman that I lost sight of what truly mattered. My focus had narrowed significantly. My goals had driven me to a place where I could no longer love others well. I was often tired and cold, which left me feeling miserable both physically and mentally. I had little mental space to think of ways to love and encourage others. I was quite short on patience with my husband and children. I wanted everyone to see things my way and adhere to my rules. In short, I had become very self-centred.
I was so afraid of failure. I had to succeed at being “healthy” and had derived my own parameters of what healthy looked like and what I had to do to accomplish that marker. D.L. Moody was right—I should have been afraid of succeeding at something that didn’t really matter. I am thankful that our God is a God of second chances. God never gives up on His children. When we fail – and we all will at some point – He allows us the opportunity to repent and be restored (Rom 2:4; 1 Jn 1:9). By His grace, I have adopted new goals – goals worth pursuing that are life-giving, joy-filled and hopeful. I have a new perspective of what “really matters.” He has taught me to value and strive toward what is truly important.
My successes or failures do not define me. My truest identity is child of the living God.
Psalm 73:26 – “My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” ~ Amen!
If food rules, weight-loss goals, and plans to reshape your body have captivated your mind, and you are ready to get your joy back, please reach out. I have been there, and I know it is not easy even to admit this struggle. There is no shame here; I have walked this road, and by the grace of God, I have found freedom from obsessive and negative thinking. As a Christian life coach and mental health coach, I help women discover the roots of their struggles, set realistic, life-giving goals and pursue attainable action steps toward a life marked by joy and authenticity. Contact me today to book a free consultation. To learn more about my services, visit my website, https://www.space4grace.ca/ or email info@space4grace.ca