My personal failures
I could probably fill this book with the many, many failures I’ve achieved, but I’m going to concentrate on the ones I learnt the most from, the ones that came after I knew Jesus. The ones before this time came with little light, they remained as dark experiences until the time my heart was ready to receive the grace to accept Jesus. Then all those wrong choices, those wounds, served a purpose of their own, they led me to see I needed a saviour.
I had been received into the church at the Easter vigil 2011, my heart was on fire for God, in a way that was totally consuming, it was a first breath-taking love that no one was going to stand in the way of, and I guess I thought I had arrived. The truth was I was merely on the blocks looking around when the starter pistol was fired. In the following September I started in the position of Youth minister for the deanery. I had no clue what to do, but I did have unbound faith and a love of Christ that seemed untouchable, that did take me far, but the opportunity to learn on the floor, sometimes flat down, face on the lino is where the real grace came in.
It seemed inconceivable to me that anyone would not love Jesus, it was beyond my comprehension. The forty previous years of my existence living as a mere nodding acquaintance with my creator seemed quickly forgotten. So filled with zeal, I proclaimed His greatness to anyone and everyone who would listen and often those who didn’t. That’s not the problem, apart from the occasional insensitivity and inappropriateness. But it was all about what I was doing for the Lord. It was tradition to go each summer to a Youth prayer festival in a field in Walsingham, still is a great opportunity for encountering Christ. I had done this particular path many times, hired a minibus or two on a good summer, borrowed sleeping bags, tents, organised everything to enable as many young people to go as possible. I would sit in the front of the minibus, keys in the ignition and starting with a short prayer I would think, here we go. I just have to get them all in this one place of prayer and praise and God you just have to zap their hearts. I’m doing my bit here and I’m making this easy for you, this my Lord is Holy efficiency. I might have added, let me show you how it’s done, but I’m hoping that I didn’t. Well, there were far more failures than successes, I would return back after the summer break expecting a heaving youth group full of young people, equally on fire for Jesus as I was. I would maybe have one or two more some that would continue and some that didn’t. It was like this many times before Jesus had a word with me, I think to manage my crushing disappointment that either He or they hadn’t done their part. (I am laughing at myself as I write this). If it wasn’t Him then the fault had to lie, I guess, with me, ouch.
It was an eye opening revelation that God doesn’t do efficient. Even, yes even, if I do efficient in His name. This was two minibuses filled with individual souls, each of whom needed to experience different things and challenges before they were ready for that one deciding moment of acceptance, their journeys were to be as individual and as unique as they were. It was humbling, to realise I had expected God to fall in with my plan for their lives. God doesn’t do efficient. God does superabundant and overflowing to the point of wasteful.
Overflowing and abundant Mercy
Overflowing and abundant Love
Overflowing and abundant Grace
He pours it out, regardless of whether it is accepted or received. He just continues to pour out recklessly on His children. There is no measure or limit. He is prepared to wait. I can easily smile at my naivety with this last story, but the one that has led me to write this book is still a slowly healing bruise, that I don’t yet have enough hindsight on to fully understand. I’m hoping by the time you read this I will have had the light to see all He has given me through it. I trust it is there, I just need the eyes of faith to see it.
Two years ago, from writing this I had felt the Lord calling me out of the youth ministry, that same zeal wasn’t there, I had since married, my daughter had left for university and there was the air of a new chapter starting, I knew you could not do this work simply as a job, it may sound perhaps as though I’m over stating the importance of it, but these are souls, each one cherished and desired by God, you cannot expect to inspire passion if that’s not where you are, you cannot take that responsibility too lightly. I prayed for the return of my earlier zeal and since it didn’t come I took that to mean there was change approaching. As part of the youth ministry we had a youth mission team. It was raw and beautiful, the young people came from wherever they were in the country to deliver confirmation retreats for different parishes who had invited us in. It was incredibly blessed, the unpolished and honest delivery of faith from these young people grasped the hearts of the adults as well as the young people we were there for. It was always a little dream that we would have a centre one day, a hub to invest and form these young people to set them up for a life of faith and service where ever in the world they would be taken. Third hour mission was of God, it had His signature written all over it.
Leap forward to 2017, I’m being led to a place of unknown change, I start to consider what I would do if it wasn’t the youth Ministry, but nothing seemed clear or obvious so I just kept the status Quo. Within a month I was offered an 11 bedroom guest house, the mortgage had just been paid off, did I have any ideas what could be done with it? That old fire was burning again in my heart, could it really be our wished for Mission house? I dismissed the idea, it was way beyond my abilities to even consider this, so I laughed and thought lovely dream, but surely not ever a reality.
Three days later I am sat with one of the youth groups, we are talking about David and Goliath. “So I want you to think about who your Goliath is” I said “I’m not meaning some over six foot bloke, but what is that thing you consider impossible, too big, too undefeatable to achieve, but that could only be possible with God?” as the last words fell from my lips I realised the question was really for me and I started to laugh. I left it another two days, praying and asking constantly for more confirmation that this was really what we were meant to be doing. I went then to my Parish priest, a beautiful, gentle and very wise man, I told him what the Lord had placed on my heart. The next few months were meetings with the diocese, with the owners of the Guest house, a finance team formed, it was a blurr and so many times doors that would have prevented it happening just flung wide open. It was terrifying but exhilarating.
That October I had three young people sign up to join for the year, then came a fourth and eventually five, six and seven. It was hard, I survived the intensity and the hours purely on grace. The moment those lifted arms of prayer began to drop the darkness advanced. We ended the first year weary but better people. We had been called to something bigger than ourselves and made it. No one however had signed up for the second year, I trusted in Gods providence, it was His project, it was never mine. A new housekeeper had come to join, a woman that I knew was of prayer and two of the former group decided to return. We started in September and by the end of November the whole thing had fallen apart, friendships were broken, hearts were broken, no one knew who to trust, confusion reigned, accusations flew about, there was nothing perfect about this storm it was dark, ugly and I think unpredicted in its force. To this day I am not entirely sure why. The day of destruction was in fact my Marian consecration day, It was the most painful day of my life, I had been given a deep love of these people, we had fought battles together and now there was nothing left. No friendships, no Mission and the very faith I stood upon appeared crumbling beneath my feet. That in itself is horrid, but the after effects were just as bad, those deep bonds were broken, and I was left not trusting I had ever once heard Gods voice. I couldn’t trust a thought in my own head, except the one saying I was wicked and that this pain we were all in was my own fault. I had been deceived and I had dragged every one into this deception with me. What a fool, what a dangerous fool.
I limped along with all the obligations till the Christmas break. Fragile and broken as I imagined we all were in our separate corners of the world. I imagined that was the end of Project 99, I spoke with my priest again after the Christmas Holidays. I explained I couldn’t trust a thought in my own head, that the future of the project had to be his decision. He was reeling himself, he didn’t know either. Clinging barely to my thread of faith I trusted God to tell him, if for no other reason than the authority given him by his ordination. We went away, he prayed, he spoke with people, he wanted to try again. It wasn’t my will, my will wanted to run away and hide in a cave but I also knew I couldn’t trust my heart, it was too bruised. So start again we did. The problem with a ruin is that everyone will have a different idea on what the rebuild should look like. Within three months it had turned from Project 99 into Project Babel. I was standing in the ruins not wanting to build anything but the vision I felt I had been given at the start, but with not enough confidence in the integrity of it to stand and fight for it. Even the possibility of a resurrection was now out of the picture. I gave three months notice, the guest house was handed back, nothing restored, nothing healed. We met evil face to face, and God, I felt had not protected us. I would love the last chapter of this book to be how it all has become clear, that those relationships are stronger than ever, that the mission has been reborn somehow else and is winning souls daily for Christ. But I am thinking that is maybe not the purpose. The fact is that Satan wins some battles, but he has lost the ultimate one. Gods will is not always done, through his utter respect and love for us he allows us to freely choose to return that love. Every time we don’t choose him, Satan does a small victory dance……but when we turn back, when we choose to turn back, our loving God will bring something beautiful from the ashes. To learn what these hard won gifts are make the struggle and pain worth it. This my friends is faith in action. This is the time for gritty real faith, turning back to the source of light, even with your wounds, with your failings, even when you have blamed that very source of light for the failing. There is no fluffy seventies style Jesus here but there is a Trinitarian force of love willing you to trust them and a heavenly army cheering you onwards. So are you ready to discover the overflowing gifts you may well have received in this your failure? Let’s walk together, you bring your failures and I’ll bring mine and we will see what our mighty God has gift wrapped up ready for us to open.
[1] Corinthians
