Failure. What a nasty name. That’s the one that has haunted me recently. No one has actually said that name to my face, but for some reason it feels like someone has, like a lot of people have. Sometimes, that name follows me around like a terribly cheesy song that keeps replaying in my mind even though it drives me nuts and I want to get rid of it, but can’t. Am I really a failure? No, not really (though, I guess, it depends on the perspective). However, the longer that awful name lingers around, the more it seems to sink in and take root. It slowly starts to become true. Fact and fiction gets blurry and reality takes second place to what I actually believe. Bit by bit the fear of that horrific name, Failure, causes timidity, lack of confidence, and pretty heavy doubt.

By this point, that name is causing havoc in my inner world. That’s where God comes in. Without knowing Jesus my mind would never be set free. I am not actually sure how it all works, but it does. Instead of running to alcohol, caffeine, sex, muscle relaxers, work, TV, and so on, I have been introduced to something that changes everything . . . . for more than a few hours. Jesus. He was an absolute failure in the eyes of the watching world. They actually told him that to his face as he hung on the cross. But his “failure” ransomed my life. When I am reminded about his indescribable love, I forget about that name that haunts me. Jesus bought my freedom with his “failure”.