There have been times when I’ve walked away from a ministry moment thinking of myself in derogatory terms. I said something I shouldn’t have said. I handled something poorly. I spoke when I should have listened—or spoke like a fool when I should have known better.

Someone from Mars might ask, “So what does that feel like?” But those of us with feet on this planet know exactly what it feels like.

Emptiness. Shame. Disappointment.

And perhaps the hardest part is not what someone else thinks about you. It is what you think about you.

You replay the conversation. You hear your words again. You imagine what you should have said. You wonder how someone who has walked with God this long could have handled something so poorly.

In the extreme, it is what Peter experienced when he denied Jesus. The rooster crowed, Peter remembered the words of Jesus, and “he went out and wept bitterly” (Luke 22:62).

It is akin to what David must have felt when the consequences of his actions with Bathsheba began closing in around him. It resembles what John Mark may have felt after abandoning the missionary journey and later discovering that Paul did not want him back on the travel roster (Acts 15:37–38).

So what do you do with moments like these?

You let failure humble you without allowing it to define you.

There is a difference between saying, “I failed,” and saying, “I am a failure.”

The first can lead to repentance. The second can lead to despair.

Peter failed miserably, but Jesus did not throw Peter away. In fact, Jesus had already told him, “I have prayed for you, that your faith should not fail; and when you have returned to Me, strengthen your brethren” (Luke 22:32).

Notice that carefully. Jesus knew Peter was going to fail, but He also saw beyond Peter’s failure.

“When you have returned…”

Jesus saw a man on the other side of his worst moment.

Peter saw the courtyard. Jesus saw Pentecost.

Peter heard the rooster. Jesus heard the sermon Peter had not yet preached.

Peter saw what he had done. Jesus saw what grace would do with him.

That does not make failure insignificant. Grace does not teach us to shrug our shoulders and say, “Everybody makes mistakes.” Some failures require repentance. Some require an apology. Some require us to make things right. Some ought to leave us quieter, humbler, wiser, and a little slower to trust our own judgment.

But failure does not get the final word.

David’s sin was serious, but David found his way to Psalm 51: “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.”

John Mark stumbled badly enough that Paul did not want to take him on the next journey. Yet years later, the same Paul would write, “Get Mark and bring him with you, for he is useful to me for ministry” (2 Timothy 4:11).

Useful to me for ministry.

I love that.

The man who had once been removed from the travel roster was eventually requested by name.

That is what grace can do with our failures.

Maybe you walked away from something recently wishing you could do it over. Maybe you said too much. Maybe you said too little. Maybe you lost your temper, missed an opportunity, made a poor decision, or simply failed to be the person you know Christ is forming you to become.

Own it.

Repent where repentance is necessary. Apologize where an apology is necessary. Learn whatever the moment has to teach you.

But then refuse to build your identity around your worst moment.

There is something profoundly healthy about being disappointed in ourselves occasionally. It reminds us that we are not nearly as finished as we sometimes imagine. It knocks some of the polish off our self-image and reminds us how desperately we still need grace.

Perhaps that is one of the gifts hidden inside those painful moments.

Failure can make us bitter toward ourselves, or it can make us dependent upon Christ.

Peter came back.

David repented.

Mark became useful again.

And you can get up too.

The question is not whether you will ever walk away disappointed in yourself. If you live long enough, serve long enough, lead long enough, love people long enough, you will.

The question is where will you go when you do?

Don’t run from Christ because you are disappointed in yourself.

Embrace humility. Run to Him.

The One who is forming you is not surprised to discover that you still need forming.

Sometimes our greatest disappointment with ourselves becomes the place where we rediscover our deepest dependence upon Him. ©

–PGR