Lessons From Failure

November 18, 2018, marked the last Sunday gathering of Missio Dei Church, West. As we gathered in the auditorium of the elementary school that had become a church home for my family and many others that final Sunday there was a palpable bittersweetness to it. This church plant was years in the making. A move from Dallas, Texas back home to Cincinnati and connection to a local church planting church in Cincinnati had culminated in the fulfillment of a dream, a vision, and a calling. The group of people that gathered on that day in November had seen God grow and sustain a new church. People were added to the church. Their gifts were discovered, developed, and deployed for use in God’s Kingdom. For many, it was a place of rest and healing from past church hurt and burnout. God had richly provided financially above and beyond what we could have imagined or asked for. These all sound like amazingly good things and they were. Despite all of this, I had hit a wall as a leader. I was exhausted emotionally, spiritually, and physically, and on the brink of burnout. Closing down a thriving church plant didn’t make sense in my mind, but the more I prayed, the more we processed as an Elder Team and the more I talked to my Spiritual Life Coach it become abundantly clear that closing was the right thing to do. I was standing in front of a group of people who had sacrificed so much, who had invested so much, and who had worked very hard and they were incredibly gracious to me.  Yet I couldn’t help but feel as if I’ve failed them as if I’ve failed the Pastors who had invested in me and as if I’ve failed the God who called me to this work. 

Transitions are never easy, but most people transitioned back into fellowship with the church that had planted us. Over the past couple of years, I’ve been left with many questions, some doubts, and at times overwhelming insecurity about my giftedness and usefulness to the Kingdom of God. I believe that all of the things that God did through that church plant were good and lasting things. I believe with my whole heart that the decisions that were made to close down and transition back into the church that sent us were the right decisions. I’ve personally experienced, and I believe the members of both churches have experienced the fruitfulness of those decisions. I personally got busy with my new roles and responsibilities at Missio Dei Church. These roles and responsibilities were certainly more in line with the ways God had uniquely wired me and the season of transition was a good thing for me and my family. 

As I’ve grown older, I’ve definitely grown more reflective. I guess that just comes with age, maturity, and life experience. This past summer, I was gifted a 3-month sabbatical, which had given me plenty of time to reflect, rest, and be renewed by the Holy Spirit.  Entering the sabbatical I wouldn’t have said that I wrestled with the Idolatry of achievement. I honestly hadn’t given much thought to success and failure at all much less directly connected to my leadership of this church plant. Outside of some initial feelings primarily out of fear of being seen as a failure by my peers, the church I was leading, and God I hadn’t considered my success or failure as a church planter. This 3-month sabbatical gave me plenty of time to consider it, so I did. Initially, I became borderline obsessed with discovering with certainty whether or not I had failed. I prayed often asking God if he viewed what had happened as a failure, I shared some of these thoughts with my wife, elders, and Spiritual Life coach. I guess I thought I would find freedom in just knowing the answers to my questions about success and failure. Those answers are still a bit unclear. In some ways, I had failed others, in other ways I was failed by others. My time processing this season over my sabbatical was helpful, but not because it provided the resolve I was looking for on whether or not I was a failure or a success. I still have questions, but I learned a tremendous amount about success and failure and thought I’d share those things with you. 

Failure is as much a part of life as success is. 

In many ways, the developmental stages of our life prepare us to succeed. From an early age, my parents helped me develop the tools that I would need to contribute to society, to grow into an independent self-sufficient person. From an early age, we learn that if you work hard and do the right things you get rewarded for it. For me, it started at an early age with an allowance for work that I would do around the house. Throughout school, we are taught that if you do the work, you get the grades. If you get the grades, you get the rewards. If you get the rewards you get into the programs that you want. If you get into the programs that you want, you can get into the college that you want to get into. If you get into the college that you want to get into you you can get the degree that you want to get. If you get the degree that you want to get you can get the job that you want to get and ultimately the lifestyle that you desire to have. This doesn’t only play out academically and professionally but relationally. We spend much of our early life proving ourselves to be competent and a valuable asset to schools, businesses, relationships, and partnerships. Life at times seems like one long race to level up, to get better and be better. Our early developmental life teaches us to succeed.

I do not want to sound too critical of these things, as these are tools and things we do in fact need to learn to be a contributing member of society. I’m deeply thankful for the ways that my parents, my educators, and even friends help me succeed in many areas of my life. But, what happens when we do all the right things but don’t get the right outcome? What happens when our desire to know and be known becomes stronger than our desire to succeed and prove ourselves? What happens when we begin following Jesus and the gospel declares that our worth and our identity is not found in things we have done but in what Jesus has done for us? In many ways, my development taught me how to succeed, how to contribute, how to prove but it didn’t teach me how to fail. These lessons come through living life, taking risks, and failing.  This season of transition taught me that failure is as much a part of life as success is. It’s taught me to rest in God’s provision to sustain me through success and failure. This season has taught me that the tools that helped me build competence aren’t going to be the same tools that help me experience connection with myself, Jesus, or other people. To do this, I’ll need a renewed mind that comes through time contemplating scripture and in unhurried time in the presence of God. David Benner, In his book “Surrender to Love,” uses a metaphor to describe a life of surrender to the perfect love of God. He encourages his readers to consider life as floating in the current of God’s perfect love. This has been such rich, beautiful, and sustaining imagery for me throughout this season. I can do nothing to earn God’s love. I don’t have to prove my worth of it, I don’t have to accomplish anything for it. I must only receive it, to surrender to it. In doing so, I see that no matter what life throws at me, the good and the bad, the ups and the downs, the failures, and the successes I am kept in the perfect love of God. Floating has always been restful for me, but with this added dimension of learning to live life floating in the current of God’s perfect love, it has become all the more restful.

I had/have an unhealthy relationship with achievement.

Throughout this season I learned that way too much of my identity and worth was being drawn from what I was doing. I learned that way too much of my time was being devoted to what I was achieving rather than who I was becoming. Outwardly this earns me a good amount of praise, accolade, and respect. Internally, this was eating away at my soul. When who we are is shaped by what we do and what we do isn’t being shaped by who we are we become less and less human. Instead of growing in humility, we grow in arrogance. Instead of being more known and knowing others more, we become distant and isolated. We spend so much time keeping up the facade of our “false self” that we become more and more removed from our true self.  I rarely let people in out of a fear that the real me wouldn’t live up to the hype of the public me. Instead of doing the hard heart work and slow soul work to address this unhealth I attributed blame to those around me, often feeling misunderstood and not known. The truth of the matter was I didn’t know myself. How could people get to know the real me if I didn’t know the real me? 

Achievement over-promises and under-delivers. When it becomes the primary thing we look to for our worth and identity it leaves us feeling insecure, irritated, and isolated. It’s no wonder that failure was my worst nightmare. When success is the ultimate good, failure is the ultimate evil. 

Jesus meets me in my failure. 

In some ways, this season of my life has been a failure and in some ways, it hasn’t. During my sabbatical my focus shifted away from identifying and clarifying if I failed as a church planter or not to even if I did, Jesus loves me and meets me in my failure. This has brought a tremendous amount of comfort and freedom. Freedom wasn’t found in finding answers to my questions or resolve to my doubts, freedom is found in the person and work of Jesus. May we look to him in seasons of success and in seasons of failure. May we look to him in seasons of great gain and seasons of great loss. May we through the power of the Holy Spirit walk in the freedom, to be honest with ourselves, honest about our limitations, and honest about our failures that the gospel of Jesus provides us. May we be free to take risks, to try new things, to step out boldly in faith, secure in the perfect love of God that is ours in Christ Jesus.

Submitted by: Matt Korte