The One Where She Fears Failure

And how it can be used instead as a messenger of grace.

The recurring dream goes something like this:

I’m out in the ocean. The waters are calm at first, and I’m bobbing along with the natural rhythm of the sea. But then one wave comes, and it’s just large enough to push me sideways. I come up for air after it passes, only to realize the next wave is right behind it. That wave is slightly bigger, slightly stronger. I’m pulled under again, but find my way back to the surface to drink in fresh air. There are people on the shore, and they see the waves, but they can’t do anything. They’re far enough away to not be able to help, but close enough to watch the tragedy unfold.

The waves now come in rapid succession — bigger, stronger. I’m tossed to and fro beneath the surface, my lungs burning for air. There’s darkness and panic. And always, always more waves.

But it’s not really a dream, it’s more of a vision or a moment of alternate reality fused into my present. It’s what anxiety feels like for me.

Photo by Tim Marshall on Unsplash

Monday afternoon, the waves came in rapid succession. They always seem to manifest from nowhere in particular, but they come in an onslaught and ferocity that feels unmatched.

I immediately plunged into the mechanisms to fight the anxiety — reading Scripture, prayer, exercise. I was out on my second walk, worship music blaring in my AirPods, but I couldn’t seem to get my head above the water.

Lord, what is causing this? I cried out over and over again.

And then it occurred to me: the root of this unwelcome Monday anxiety was a fear of failure.

I spent the morning putting the finishing touches on the onboarding materials I’ll use for my new clients. I prayed over the assets; I prayed over the clients that are not yet but hopefully will be; I prayed over open doors and favor. And as I closed my laptop, an unwelcome foe, one I’ve entertained far too long, bombarded me.

The fear of failure.

I’m not sure I’ve ever had the ability to explicitly name it. It has always been with me, for as long as I can remember. And it doesn’t stem from perfectionism, it stems from not wanting to be an imposition on others. If I fail, it costs me something, yes, but that’s a cost I’ll willingly absorb. It’s the cost on others that crushes me. If I fail, I’m letting others down. I’m imposing something on them that I never wanted to impose. Perhaps it costs them misplaced belief in me; perhaps it’s their time or resources. Whatever it is, my failures cost others around me something, and the very thought of that is debilitating.

Because of it, I often want to make myself small. I want to cause the least amount of friction possible. What’s the path with the least possible chance of letting others down?

That’s the one I’ll take.

This may come as a surprise to some who see me as confident or strong. My confidence is, and always has been, that God is exactly who He says He is. And I will walk willingly and obediently in what He has called me to do every single day. Any confidence or strength others may have witnessed in me has been from the Lord alone.

It’s an odd thing, right? To simultaneously live in the tension of the supernatural (I am loved by Jesus; I am held by Jesus; Jesus is everything to me; I will obey His words and walk wherever He leads, no matter the cost) and the flesh (I fear failing; I fear letting Jesus down; I fear letting others down; I will try to live small and safe).

When the flesh wins, the waves come.

My sanctification is not finished.

So on the second Monday of launching ElucidCX, I spent the first four hours operating in the strength of the Lord, working diligently as an act of worship. The next few hours I transitioned back to the flesh, drowning in the fear of failing.

I sat down in a chair in my living room and reached for my copy of Every Moment Holy¹. I turned to the liturgies of sorrow and lament and stopped at “For Those Fearing Failure.” These are the words that arrested me:

Ah Christian, if you would truly serve your Maker, in whatever capacity or vocation, is it not necessary for your own good, and for the good of the kingdom of God, that you would sometimes be met with such fear and dismay?

But how could such a besetting fear ever be for my good, or for the good of God’s eternal kingdom?

Under the Spirit’s tutelage, such fears might become messengers of grace, revealing to you only what was true all along: in yourself you do not have the strength or the wisdom or the ability to accomplish the task to which you are called.

Messengers of grace.

These waves have served the wrong purpose. I have allowed them to be weapons of destruction instead of messengers of grace. As they crash over me, what if instead of drowning me they remind me that I, indeed, cannot swim without the Father? What if the waves could instead become a friend, a reminder that my flesh is weak and I am not capable?

I am not capable alone.

I am not smart enough alone.

I am not wise or discerning or savvy enough to run this business alone.

This fear of failing with ElucidCX no longer has to be the unwelcome companion on my journey. It can be my reminder that alone, in my own strength, I can do nothing. I was never meant to.

I cannot accomplish the task to which I was called in my own strength and wisdom because I was designed to abide so deeply with Jesus that there is no going at it alone. There is only His glory, His work in me and through me.

My fear of failing has always been seen through the incorrect lens — a way to make me believe I somehow hold the levers of my own life to control the desired outcome. Monday, with my face to the ground and tears streaming, I cried out and asked God to turn that thought pattern into one that glorifies Him. A fear of failure should not debilitate me, it should propel me to deeper dependence.

Would it not, dear traveler, be of utmost faith to relax my body when the waves come and learn to float with them? To allow the waves to remind me of the Creator’s power? Instead of thinking myself small, to be reminded of just how big He is? To remember that I can never find a way that is safe enough, comfortable enough to protect others because it was never my job to?

Yes, I believe so.

It is not a lack of faith that brings about an improper reflection of the waves, but rather a misplaced faith — a belief that I have enough power and control.

I do not.

I will not.

On this Friday, I still fear failing. Just last night, as I scheduled my first client meeting (!!!), the enemy’s voice screamed that I’ll somehow get the pitch wrong, that no one will ever want to partner with ElucidCX, that it will all…fail.

But the whisper of the Truth reminded me this fear of failing can instead be a messenger of grace: “But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’” (2 Corinthians 12:9)

PS: This song has been playing on repeat on my Spotify. Enjoy.

1. McKelvey, Douglas. Every Moment Holy: Volume I. Franklin, TN: Rabbit Room Press, 2017.