Thank you Jesus that I suck

Failure is great. My favourite illustration for this uncomfortable truth is one I read in a book (which, conveniently, I can remember neither the name nor author of) and goes a little something like this. Imagine you are holding a piece of string in your hands, one end in each. One end represents you and the other represents God. When we screw up and end up causing all sorts of damage to ourselves and others, it's as though the string is cut with a pair of scissors - the connection between the two ends is broken. However, when we admit the screw up to ourselves and God, the two ends get retied in some form of reef knot (I imagine). Hurrah! However, it's not long before we screw up again. *snip* But then we admit. *reefy* Screw up. *snip* Admit. *reefy* It goes on...*snip* And on....*reefy* And each time this lovely little cycle is repeated, what is happening to the two ends? Yup, they're getting closer.

<Pause for dramatic spiritual effect>

Like I said, failure is great. It's God's favourite tool for bringing us closer to himself, ourselves and other selves. We learn from failure, not necessarily straight away, but we do. Over time, bit by bit, our minds are transformed as they try and assimilate the knew knowledge gained from yet another botched attempt. You know that thing where you can fold a piece of paper and then tear along the crease to make a (relatively) straight cut? I NEVER used to be able to do that. I got sooooooo frustrated with ripping bits of paper that looked like they had been mauled by a dog. Then, one day, I just...did it. Nothing conscious changed, I didn't read a 'dunces guide to ripping paper', something clicked. My sneaky brain had learnt without telling me.

Our only conscious role in this is to keep trying, and the only thing that can stop our brains from doing their job is us, by giving up. The problem is we get to 'failure saturation point' where we just cannot bring ourselves to make any more effort, where we can't face that horrible sinking feeling anymore of another energy-sapping attempt down the drain. So, we stop. And then we find reasons that justify us stopping, reasons that we desperately try and use to stem the hemorrhage of depression that erupts from the wound of unrealised potential.

I'm thinking about this now because I've been considering Llan and the amazing second chance God has given me personally in being part of this vision. The previous community I helped establish, Solace (a bar church), was awesome in so many ways, but as I have reflected on it over the last couple of years I have seen the mistakes I made, some of which I cannot deny contributed to the community's end. In spite of this, God, in a display of what can only be described as somewhat reckless grace, has called me to pioneer another community.

It's been said that the Holy Spirit is the 'enemy of apathy'. For me, Llan is testament to the truth of this. "No sitting on your laurels" He whispers, "no feeling sorry for yourself, no making excuses. Come on boy, you've been given a purpose, now pick yourself up and crack on."

Failure is great. Exhausting, painful and harsh, but still great.