What happens when we fail?

For those of you who live in Western Pennsylvania, there is a precious gem of an amusement park tucked away in the woodlands near Ligonier that has captivated people, young and old, for generations.  It has changed only slightly, grown and aged with character over the years.  For the most part, the classic feel has remained the same.  Located right off the historic Lincoln Highway (50 miles southeast of Pittsburgh on Route 30), children’s eyes can spot it before the turn signal is even switched on to make the entrance into the park.

I was one of those boys who loved the annual trip to the Idewild amusement park each summer when my parents loaded the family up and took us out for a day of fun.  My dad is and was a farmer.  Long vacations were rare with all the work that had to be done at the time, but he made sure to take us on day trips to Idewild where we could share laughs and smiles with other farmer families.  Back then, we always grouped together with other farm families and went on the event day labeled “The Farmer’s Picnic.”  I have so many memories etched inside my mind.

I can remember it vividly.  Traditions can do that to you.

This year my wife and I have made several trips so far in a single summer.  We bought season passes for us and my stepson.  A wonderful idea, it gives us the flexibility of spending a few hours at a time, enjoying ourselves without the stress of having to see the park all in one day, and saving the remaining fun for another day.  

It is my favorite park.  I’m not alone.  Not only has it often been named as “Pittsburgh’s Best Amusement Park,” but it also carries the threepeat title of “Best Children’s Park” worldwide from Amusementtoday.com, receiving the Golden Ticket.  

And it’s right in our backdoor.  How neat.

Trees dot the landscape.  Abundant shade gives you relief from the sun.  Most of the park is made of actual wood, something that gives it a down-to-earth and natural feel.  There is a special aura of good old-fashioned family fun there.  Nobody can beat the “Potato Patch Fries” all smothered in cheese.  Benches are everywhere, most in cozy places to watch children enjoy the rides, adults snapping pictures.

I walk around with my family.  I can still see it, remember it, reminisce in it.  It takes me to a special place in my own childhood.  Although they took down my favorite ride (they told me that they can’t get parts for the Ferris Wheel anymore), many of the same rides from my younger days still exist.  As the years went by my first wife and I took our sons Bradley and Justin there.  From riding the train to watching them graduate to the bigger rides, it was really fun to watch the older boys (Brad and Justin) feel the rush of excitement on the Spider and the old-fashioned wood rollercoaster when they were in grade school.  Now, I am enjoying seeing Michael enjoy the same things that I once did.

One thing in particular caught my attention on our last trip.  Michael’s little legs ran joyfully through Storybook Forest (a land of make-believe and nursery rhymes), as I kept my eye out for one particular stop.  I wasn’t quite sure where it was located, but I figured it was still there.  I had talked it up.  He was looking forward to the challenge.  We were nearing the end and I was getting a bit worried that they might have taken it away.  After all I had said, it would be a shame to have removed the most notable part of Storybook Forest from my younger days.

The sword in the stone.

Most people can identify with the old legend of Excalibur, the sword no man could pull from the anvil and the stone. Through the ages it has been told over and over, possibly to the point that it has changed dramatically since first being passed from ear to ear.  Disney furthered the story’s popularity when an animated version came out in 1963.  I had never watched it as a child though.  I only knew of hints of the legend, possibly from trying to pull the sword free from the amusement park rock when I was there as a kid.

So, I looked the legend up.  As an adult, I admit that until today I had not known that there was any magic and mysticism involved.  My parents were careful to keep an eye on the things that went into our young minds when we were little.  Call me old fashioned, but we weren’t allowed to watch things that promoted magic and dark powers.  I hadn’t known about any of that then.  But even in ignorance, when we would go to Idewild. . .

I was not able to pull the sword out of the rock at age five.

Funny, but last week, though Michael pulled with all his might. . . we walked away with it still stuck inside the rock.  He couldn’t free it either.

Now that I think of it, 100% of all the men, women, and children who have passed through that park have also failed at drawing the sword from its stone sheath.

Let that sink in.  

100% of the people who tried to do something at the best children’s park in the world have failed to achieve what they set out to do.

I think I hear the whisper of the Lord, don’t you?

100% of the people who have touched that sword have failed.

Failure.  

How on earth do we handle that?

We all fail in life.  It is unavoidable.  Failure is unpleasant.  Nobody likes to fail.  

If we are honest with each other, failure is one of those things that is strong enough to shape us.  Positively or negatively, the power failure possesses is one of those things that grips us so hard that it undeniably changes the path of our future.  If we are honest with ourselves, we can look back in life, see where we were, see where we are now, and trace the path in which failure has been allowed to alter things.  In reality, one of three things tends to occur.

Failure.  

The first path people tend to drift into is that of giving up.  With failure, some people choose not to try anymore.  The unwanted fear of failure has forced some to give up their passions, ignore their abilities, and disown their calling.  They don’t allow themselves to grow because they are sheltering themselves from the fear of missing the mark.  Will you ever hit the target?  Well, not if you are afraid to aim.  Will you ever get that job, win that contest, or in my case, write that book?  Not if you don’t set out with a desire in your eye to achieve it.  If you don’t take aim and are willing to risk failure, there is a guaranteed reality that hitting that bullseye will never happen.  

Another path that we unfortunately take is the path of avoidance.  Some make choices to avoid things that remind us of our failures.  Nobody likes to fail, right?  So why not just avoid it altogether?  Some people go so far out of their way, they limit life choices into groups and selections in which they can only succeed.  Unknowingly, these people suffer in huge and dramatic ways.  Instead of going for what God desires for us, we choose to reach for the obtainable, the easy to reach, and the quick solution.  The fear of failure can do that to us.  Yes, we might try, but we only try for what we know we can obtain, horribly stunting the growth of our faith.  How can you achieve the life God has called you to, if you only take steps toward what you know you are sure to gain?  Could Moses have led the children of Israel out of Egypt on his own?  Was it reasonable?  Was it a sure thing in the eyes of the natural?  Was it a bulletproof plan?  We see great fear express itself in the words Moses spoke to the Lord when he was called (starting in Exodus 3:11).  Fear blurts out throughout the passage, most notably in Exodus 4:1: Then Moses answered, “But behold, they will not believe me or listen to my voice, for they will say, ‘The Lord did not appear to you.’”  

Moses, as we often do, succumbed to the fear of failure when making decisions.

But. . . the fortunate few that allow failure to be a positive influence reap great joys of blessing.  We see them through the history books.  We see them in our culture and society today.  As we watch the Olympics, we see champions who weren’t afraid to face failure and figure a way through it.  Failure pushes and propels the select few that have been empowered by it.  Take some of the great sports athletes.  What we know about them are the victories, the highlight moments, and the trophies.  But what we don’t remember are the strikeouts and missed shots.  Here is a great example, a quote from Michael Jordan.  “I have missed more than 9,000 shots in my career. I have lost almost 300 games. On 26 occasions I have been entrusted to take the game-winning shot, and I missed. I have failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed.”

Do I face failure personally?  Absolutely.  I am as human as the day is long.  I have failed more times than you could count.  I haven’t been picked up by a publishing company yet.  I’ve been denied from famous people that I’ve tried to get on their radio and podcast shows.  Sometimes I feel like I have failed as a man, as a father, as a husband.  And then, of course, is the failure of all humanity. Sin.  Don't we all sin?  Sometimes I’m strong in life and can resist it through the strength Christ has empowered me with.  Sometimes we fall short, missing the mark.  Does that disqualify us from the prize?  Not if we get up and try again.

Haven’t we all failed?

Romans 3:23 For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God;

We all fail.

But do we use failure to our advantage or let it sink our ship?

One of the greatest examples of what I’m trying to illustrate is the life of the disciple Peter.  He, like Judas, betrayed the Lord.  Everybody knows that when the rooster crowed Peter felt that gut-wrenching pain inside himself; he failed, he had hurt the Lord, he had betrayed his friend.  But unlike Judas, who also did the same failure and then hung himself, Peter got back in the game.  He was humble enough to face the Lord again.  He was meek enough to put himself under the subjection of Christ and face the fact that he had failed him.  

Then the Lord asked him three times, “do you love me?” 

Wow.

Would I have needed the same question asked three times?  Most likely, my thick skull would have needed Jesus to ask me five, six, or seven times.  Peter replied with a yes.  And Jesus never blinked an eye.  “Feed my sheep,” was a perfect metaphor for Peter preaching the good news to the flock of people Jesus came to shepherd.  I cannot tell you how many times Jesus has needed to remind me to “get with it,” “get back in the game,” or “get on deck and follow your calling.”  Do I love Him?

Absolutely.

Do we fail him?

Absolutely.

What are we going to do with it?  Give up and quit trying?  Avoid the opportunities in life we know we might possibly fail to limit hurt and frustration?  Or be engaged, be in the game, feeding the flock, and reaching your calling.

Peter knew to get up off his face and try again.

3000 souls came to salvation on the day of Pentecost because he did.

Nobody has pulled the sword from the stone at Idewild yet.

But each time I’m there, I’m going to try.

By Chuck Carr.