The Shepherd Counts Differently

Failure…

Sit with that word for a minute. What does it make you think of?

When I read it or hear it spoken, I can see my failures. Some recent. Some years old. Things I wish I had done differently. Things I wish I could go back and change.

Why does one word have that much power?

We hear things like “Failure isn’t final” or “Your failures don’t define you.” They show up in talks, posters, social posts, and books.

I believe those things are true.

But that does not mean failure is not real.

Sometimes we fail. We make the wrong decision. We fall short of something we intended to do. We do something we should not have done. There may be consequences. Grace does not require us to pretend otherwise.

The problem begins when a failure stops describing something that happened and starts telling us who we are.

When Failure Becomes a Verdict

This week’s podcast takes us through a failure that stuck with me. Not a spiritual failure, but a physical one.

I am building a ministry around hiking and the wilderness. So I put pressure on myself to be good at hiking. I need to know the trails. I need to understand where the difficult sections are. I need to know what different hikers may face. And when I am leading others, I need enough left in me to serve them well.

I also hike because I enjoy pushing myself.

The hike in this episode hung over me for a while. I won’t tell the whole story here because that belongs in the episode, but I will say this:

I did not finish the hike I planned to finish.

That was real.

The problem was what I allowed that fact to say next.

I went from “I didn’t finish this hike” to wondering whether I was good enough to lead anyone else.

A result became a verdict.

What Are We Counting?

Not everyone goes hiking to meet with God. Not everyone meets with God by going hiking.

For me, the wilderness has long been a place where I can slow down enough to pay attention. The trails and mountains do not hold any special power. They simply give me space to listen, pray, notice, and be present with God.

That does not mean the miles stop mattering.

I still want to hike farther. I still want to get stronger. I still want to know whether I can complete a difficult route. There is nothing wrong with any of that.

But somewhere along the way, I started letting those measurements say more than they were allowed to say.

Miles became a measure of ability.

Ability became a measure of whether I could lead.

And one unfinished hike began reaching into places it had no authority to reach.

I was counting one thing.

The Shepherd was counting differently.

Failure Is Real. It Is Not Final.

Maybe your failure looks nothing like mine.

Maybe you made a decision you regret.

Maybe you did not follow through on something you promised yourself you would do.

Maybe you missed a day of reading Scripture and immediately began wondering what that said about your faith.

Maybe you handled a relationship badly and now you are wondering what that says about you.

Some of those things may need to be repaired. Some may require repentance. Some may simply need to be acknowledged for what they are.

Grace does not erase any of that.

But failure does not get the final word.

“I failed” and “I am a failure” are not the same sentence.

“I didn’t finish” and “I am not capable” are not the same sentence.

“I got this wrong” and “God cannot use me” are not the same sentence.

A failure can be real without becoming your identity.

Finishing and Completing

I used to think finishing and completing a hike were basically the same thing.

Finishing means reaching the place I intended to reach. Point A to Point B. There is a route, a destination, and a plan.

Sometimes I do not reach Point B.

That matters. If I am training for distance, I need to acknowledge it. If I underestimated a trail, I need to learn from it. If something went wrong, I need to understand why.

But the wilderness has also taught me that reaching Point B is not the only thing that can happen on a journey.

That day I did not finish the hike.

But I spent time with God.

I paid attention.

I learned something about my limits, and eventually I learned something about the way I was measuring myself.

The miles did not change.

The failure did not disappear.

What changed was what I allowed it to say about me.

The Shepherd counts differently.

Maybe the question is not whether you failed.

Maybe the question is: What have you allowed that failure to say about you that God never did?

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First…

Listen to the podcast:

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Then…

Consider where you might be allowing failure to define a story God is still writing.