As it turns out, I know way more about failing than I do victory in Jesus. The victory part I seem to be dismal at. The failing part, in a major sense of the word, I may be at a professional level. It is true that God uses everything and everyone for His Story. Yet, honestly, I fail. By faith I know that God will use it. Yet, the failure or regrets remain.
Please keep in mind I am not a pessimist or an optimist. Both will get one killed at worst and embarrassed at best. I am a realist. The cup is both half full and half empty. Allow me to be truthful about my “cup.”
I have regrets. Here are a few I am willing to talk about for broad readership:
Children: It always frustrates me, and has for decades, when we give ourselves a pass on parenting. It comes in the form of: “well, we all do the best we can.” To which my honest side says: “well, maybe, sometimes.” There were times when I was absent too often. As they grew, there were times where I spoke with a lack of sensitivity. In ignorance and inability generally. Regardless, I missed their hearts. Their eyes shifted and dropped, and I was helpless to correct it. There were occasions, I cannot recall now, where I was lazy. Not tired, but just lazy. Other times, I forced compliance for my best, not theirs. Occasionally too harsh or too soft. My youth prevented me from knowing how to enter their worlds with courage and sensitivity. My language skills for my son were adequate. For my daughters however, who preceded him, they were desperately lacking. Especially before they left to craft their own lives. My poor skills and fear of a heart-language caused me to step back too far or step in too hard. It feels now that I rarely got it right. There are regrets here. Yet, they are each independent, kind, strong, and far better parents than I.
Spouse: Occasionally, I get it right. More often than not, I get it somewhere between really missing and kind-of missing Susie’s heart. 30 or 40 years ago was another story. Ambitious and aggressive, sometimes necessarily so, I put so many things in front. Career demands, other people, my pride, and my hobbies slithered to the top of the daily planner. I cannot get these back. They just are and mark different phases of my life. These days, it is hopefully different. I miss less, but still miss. Self-care is important. Self-focus is indulgent. As much as I think I defer in kind and humble ways, I have been, and can be, self-focused. Regrets abound.
Career: Had I put my head down and gotten after it, I would have been more effective. My staff would have thrived better. There may have been a book. A few hours a day of absolute laser focus would have been monumental. Again, sometimes I did my best. Other times, I took the easy way and got a pass. It maybe was good, but not my best. I hate that.
Friends: There are many who ask for attention from all of us. I have given lots of attention to the wrong people. Other times, I have given not enough to the right people. The reasons, in part, have to do with character flaws in me, I’m sure. Some of those I’m aware of, others I’m not. For those true friends who asked for more, I am sorry I failed you. For my friends who wanted to know my heart and I played it safe by talking about hobbies and the weather, I apologize. At some level, I believe if you really knew me you wouldn’t like me. That has made me cowardly on occasion. Overbearing at other times. I regret that.
Pastoring: it seems like this would be the one place where all my other failings fade away and I announce, in false-humility, one giant success story. Nope. It would be easy to god-speak and talk about blessings and victorious preaching. For me, that’s a nonsense smoke screen. I fail myself and my congregation regularly. This is the primary topic of my prayer life with God.
Despite all of this, I will carry on. Acknowledging these things will hopefully produce more meekness. I need it.
I’m sure more failures and regrets await. Probably in these same arenas. I will do what I’ve always done. Keep going and trusting in the grace, forgiveness and redemptive nature of a Good Father. I’ll never regret that.
