Is It Over Because You Failed? No.

As the year 2024 draws to a close, many of us find ourselves reflecting on the past twelve months (or maybe even life in general)—the victories, the losses, the failures, the regrets, and the moments we wish we could redo. The turning of the calendar often stirs a desire to turn over a new leaf, to head in a better direction. But for some, the weight of past failures can make a fresh start feel impossible. Embarrassment and failure leave a mark, often deepening and creating entrenched fears of inadequacy, guilt, shame, and the haunting worry that "it’s over for me." But is it really? Scripture gently reassures us that failure is never the end for God's children. Time and again, it reveals how the failures of saints became the very ground where God worked His redemptive power.

The Bible Is a Catalog of Failures

Many people approach the Bible expecting a pristine catalog of examples to emulate, but what they find is often the exact opposite. Scripture doesn’t shy away from humanity’s flaws; instead, it confronts them head-on, showing how God’s grace works in the midst of human failure.

Consider Abraham, the father of faith, who lied about Sarah being his wife to save his own skin, exposing her to danger and revealing his struggle with trust in God’s promises (Genesis 12:10-20; Genesis 20:1-18). Or Moses, the great deliverer, who murdered an Egyptian in a fit of anger and fled into the wilderness, his dreams of justice and liberation seemingly crushed (Exodus 2:11-15). What about David, Israel’s greatest king, who not only committed adultery with Bathsheba but also orchestrated her husband’s death to cover it up, plunging his household and nation into generational chaos (2 Samuel 11:1-27).

The prophets, too, were not immune. Jonah ran in the opposite direction of God’s call, preferring his own prejudices and bigotries over God’s mercy (Jonah 1:1-3; Jonah 4:1-11). Elijah, after a great victory on Mount Carmel, fled in terror from Jezebel and despaired of life itself, crying out that he had had enough (1 Kings 19:1-10). Jeremiah wrestled openly with bitterness, lamenting the burden of his prophetic ministry (Jeremiah 20:7-18).

The New Testament is no different. Peter, whose confession of Jesus as the Christ is the foundation upon which the church is built, denied Jesus three times, weeping bitterly in shame and regret. Paul, before becoming an apostle, zealously persecuted the church, imprisoning and approving the deaths of believers (Acts 8:1-3; Acts 9:1-2). Paul, even after his radical conversion to Christian faith and call to apostleship, lamented his frustrating and deep-seated struggle with sin, declaring, “For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing” (Romans 7:19). Thomas, despite years with Jesus, declared he would not believe in the resurrection unless he could see and touch the wounds himself (John 20:24-29). And John Mark abandoned Paul and Barnabas on a missionary journey, his impulsiveness and immaturity leading to a sharp division between the two mentors (Acts 13:13; Acts 15:36-41).

These failures are raw and real, not sanitized or softened. They remind us that failure does not disqualify us from God’s love or plans. Instead, these stories reveal that failure often becomes the place where God’s refining grace does its deepest work.

Secure in Christ's Perfection, Not Ours

At the heart of the gospel is the truth that our identity is not in our successes or failures but in Christ. When failure exposes our idols—whether of self-sufficiency, approval, control, or anything we trust and value in place of God—it becomes an invitation to repentance. The Spirit invites us to turn from the false confidences that betray us to the only One who does not. The Heidelberg Catechism reminds us in its opening question and answer that our only ultimate comfort in life and death is that we belong, body and soul, to Jesus Christ. Our worth and hope are secure in His sufficiency, not our performance.

Turning from idols, therefore, is not just about renouncing false gods; it also means learning to find true satisfaction in Christ. This process involves deepening our reliance on His promises, seeking His presence in our daily struggles, and allowing His love to reorient our hearts from fleeting comforts to eternal truths. In Him, we have forgiveness for our sins (Colossians 1:13-14), strength in our weaknesses (2 Corinthians 12:9-10), and hope that even our failures will be worked for good (Romans 8:28). The cross stands as the ultimate proof that God can take what looks like utter defeat and use it for ultimate victory.

God Redeems Failures

The grace of God does not merely forgive our failures; it redeems them for His purposes. Moses’ years in exile, tending sheep in obscurity, prepared him to lead Israel with humility and patience. David’s brokenness over his sin deepened his understanding of God’s mercy, giving us psalms like Psalm 51, which have ministered to generations of broken hearts. Peter’s bitter weeping after denying Jesus paved the way for him to become a bold preacher of the gospel at Pentecost, proclaiming the very name he had once disowned. Paul’s past as a persecutor of Christians magnified the power of God’s grace in his ministry, making him a powerful example of redemption. His lingering struggles preserved his humble dependence upon Christ.

And then there is John Mark, a saint of whom I'm quite fond, whose failure to stay the course in ministry was not the final word. Later, Paul described him as "useful to me for ministry" (2 Timothy 4:11), showing that God’s grace can restore even fractured relationships and give second chances to those who once faltered.

As Timothy Keller has often pointed out, the gospel is not just the ABCs of the Christian life but the A to Z. It means that God is continually at work, not in spite of our failures but through them, shaping us into the image of Christ (Romans 8:29). His power is made perfect in our weakness.

Living in the Freedom of Grace

So what does it look like to live in this freedom? Living in the freedom of grace means being honest about our failures, knowing they do not define us. It means rejecting the chains of perfectionism and fear, replacing them with humility that acknowledges our dependence on God—not as self-abasement but as a confident trust in His sufficiency. The gospel liberates us to confront our shortcomings with courage, trust in God’s redemptive work, and move forward without fear of condemnation. Embracing the refining process allows God to draw us closer to Him and use even our mistakes to display His power and grace to others.

When shame whispers, "Your story is ruined," the gospel gently reminds, "Your story is redeemed." Christ’s work on the cross is enough to cover every failure and every fear. His resurrection guarantees that no story is beyond redemption.

A Hope That Does Not Disappoint

God’s gracious dealings with the catalog of failures among the saints remind us of His steadfast love and redeeming power. Their stories assure us that it is never "over" when we belong to Christ. Failure is not the end; it is often the beginning of a deeper work of grace.

As Timothy Keller wisely observed,

“The Christian Gospel is that I am so flawed that Jesus had to die for me, yet I am so loved and valued that Jesus was glad to die for me. This leads to deep humility and deep confidence at the same time. It undermines both swaggering and sniveling. I cannot feel superior to anyone, and yet I have nothing to prove to anyone. I do not think more of myself nor less of myself. Instead, I think of myself less.”

This profound truth frees us to walk in true humility—a humility that avoids prideful defensiveness on one hand and groveling self-abasement on the other. It equips us to respond to those who try to hold us captive to our past with both courage and peace. We can admit our faults without being crushed by them, knowing that our identity rests securely in Christ. His grace has the final word.

Let us, then, turn from our idols and cling to the sufficiency of Christ. Let us trust that our failures are not final but are being woven into a greater story for His glory and our good. And let us encourage one another with the hope that God’s grace is more than sufficient—it is abundant, transforming, and unfailing.

In your successes and your failures, may the Lord richly bless you in 2025.