Grace

There are days when I feel like such a failure. A failure as a father. A failure as a son. A failure as an employee. A failure as a musician. A failure as a Christian. A failure as a human being. An utter failure. Often, this feeling comes when I am overwhelmed - or tired - or I’ve been attacked in some way. Sometimes, when I feel like a failure, I make bad choices and the self hatred is only further intensified. I say that I believe in God’s grace, but I often find it hard to accept myself as imperfect. There are times when I just break down emotionally and I feel so stupid. The smallest thing can set me off and I have to wonder why I’m so weak. Why can’t I be more even-tempered like most men? Why do I still feel like an insecure child? Why am I so easily hurt? Why do I still desperately long for my parents’ approval? Why do I still crave connection with people who have discarded me like trash? Why do I keep looking for peace in the wrong places? 

Triggers come in all shapes and sizes. I might have a mountaintop experience and my battery is recharged. I finish a blog or song - and people like it. I have an encouraging conversation with a friend. I see a small breakthrough with my son. I play keyboard in our church's worship band. My wife and I go on a long overdue date. I face a fear. I say “no” to an unhealthy habit. I pick up my Bible. But then, bad things start to happen. The van breaks down again. I get sick. My son snaps at me. A customer makes me feel dumb and inferior. Suddenly, I’m headed down the spiral. On cue, unrelated underlying insecurities bubble to the surface. I start to think of the friends who never like anything I post on Facebook. The aunt who wrote me off. The nieces and nephews who turned against me. The sister who won’t respond. The brother who still treats me like a gullible child. The parents who abandoned me. Like that, all the voices are exerting their disapproval in unison - “We don’t like you. You don’t fit in. You’ve made too many mistakes. You are a failure.”

How I wish I could stop this cycle. Yet, it happens again and again. I’d think by now, I’d see it coming. If only I could halt the snowball before it became an avalanche. I think I’m strong. I feel secure. And then wham - it all comes crashing down. I don’t sleep well. I’m irritable. I’m discontent. I’m unmotivated. I start to feel lost. I retreat inside. I’m unsocial. I feel disconnected. I second guess my worth. I start to fear I’ll lose those closest to me. What if I end up all alone? What if everyone turns against me?

I don’t like how I’m wired. If only I were more stable. If only I could brush off every letdown - every childhood scar - every self-abasing thought - every fear - every regret. When my wife has a rough day, she just turns on a Hallmark movie. If I ask her how she feels, she’ll tell me she’s tired or her back hurts after a long day at work. I’ll give her a back rub and join her for the show. On the other hand, when I have an exceptionally bad day, I can’t let it go. I try to reconstruct the catastrophe. I’ll spend every last bit of energy attempting to figure out how the fire started and how it could have been prevented. What is wrong with me? Why do I need to hyper-analyze everything? If I can understand the cause, I can fix the problem, right? Oh, if it were that simple.

This past week was rough. I’m not quite sure where the unraveling began. Maybe it’s the upcoming holidays. Maybe it’s the anxiety I feel while I wait to hear from my dad. It’s been a month since my mom said he would write me. Still nothing. I want to accept the possibility that he’ll never reply but there’s always the what if. Tomorrow, I see my therapist again. I’ve been meeting with her for about six months now. One thing I like about our conversations is the opportunity to be completely vulnerable without any judgement. Talking it out helps immensely. I’ve come to realize that I am carrying a huge load of shame. Shame for the way I’ve been made. Shame for not being strong enough to overcome my own demons. Shame for not living up to the perceived expectations of others. So much shame. As a Christian, I recognize the importance of conviction. I know what it feels like when I ignore God and later sense that small voice encouraging me to make things right. However, shame is a weapon of the accuser. The old serpent’s got me all figured out. He knows how to set the dominos up and he knows when to knock them down. But God’s grace doesn’t stand or fall on my performance. It is bigger than my insecurities and the opinions of others. As Paul would say, my weaknesses only highlight God’s power. God uses foolish things to shame the wise. He is a friend of sinners. A companion of outcasts. An embracer of the lonely and the lost. He is the one I need every day and every hour. Why would I run to people or to things which only leave me wanting?

I’m finding that every emotional collapse begins with a stature of self-reliance and/or the reliance on things other than God. I try to man up. I try to handle things on my own. I either consciously or unconsciously refuse God’s help. Like so many times, I grab the helm and crash the ship into the shore. And so the question remains…what is wrong with me? Why am I so easily swayed? So easily toppled? So easily torn apart? Because I’m human. Because I’m not perfect…and I don’t need to be perfect. This is where grace comes in. Not the sanitized churchy grace that compartmentalizes sin and excommunicates the fallen. Not the holier-than-thou grace with a three-strikes-and-you’re-out clause. I’m talking about true grace. Grace without limits. Jesus grace. Grace which accepts me unconditionally - with all my past, present and future flaws and mistakes. I have to remind myself daily. Jesus didn’t die to cover some of my shortcomings. He died for it all. He doesn’t call me His child only to change His mind. He isn’t building a case against me, rehearsing my downfalls. With grace, every moment is new. Every breath is a fresh start. I may fail, but I’m still moving. I’m still striving. I’m learning to rely on the one who made me who I am for a reason. No tear misses his attention. And He loves me indefinitely beyond comprehension. I am not a failure.

“And He has said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.” Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. Therefore I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in distresses, in persecutions, in difficulties, in behalf of Christ; for when I am weak, then I am strong.” 2 Corinthians 12:9-10

Photo by Maurício Eugênio.