by Jason Byassee, April 15, 2014
Jason Byassee
Failure is an odd topic for Easter. But it is not unfamiliar to any of us. Most of us could probably imagine a scenario by which we would fail–in family, at work, in play, with friendships, in life. Many of us are motivated partly by fear of failure. I know I am.
Yet there is something freeing about failure. Think of the sports team that knows it is out of the playoffs that suddenly plays loose, together, like they have nothing to lose. Is it any surprise they’re suddenly good? Something happens when we loosen our white-knuckle grip on the thing we care about too much, with which we’re trying to prove ourselves. Lose it, and suddenly you can be yourself, exhale, relax, live. Personally I’ve noticed some of my best moments have come after failure. Then you can be magnanimous in defeat, congratulate the victor, learn from missteps, and step into a broader life.
There are worse things than failure. Much, much worse.
The bible has a lot to say about failure. In holy week we see portraits of two cataclysmic failures. Peter betrays his Lord. This after Jesus had predicted it in remarkable detail. Peter swore it would never happen and then it did, precisely as Jesus had said (with a bit of confusion over whether the cock would crow once or twice, but never mind). Judas, so trusted once the disciples asked him to guard the group’s (paltry) money supply, sought to add to his personal wealth by turning the Lord over to the authorities. Theories abound as to why he did this–was he trying to force Jesus into a confrontation with Rome that would end with Jesus as victorious king? Was he just greedy, an agent of evil? The bible doesn’t say. It just says he committed a monstrous misdeed for which he could not forgive himself. He committed suicide.
Here is what scripture is saying with these two portraits of failure: the difference between Peter and Judas is simply whether they were willing to receive forgiveness. Peter is restored to Jesus’ trust by being asked three times, “Do you love me?” Peter says he does. “Feed my lambs,” Jesus instructs. And Peter does, becoming the most important leader among the Twelve after Jesus’ resurrection. Judas did not linger for any such restoration. His turning in of the Lord was crucial–Jesus going to his death means life for the world. Surely there would have been restoration for him too, as with Peter. But he could not stand his failure, did not seek the chance for restoration. In the 10-part miniseries called The Bible from last year (the Jesus portion of which became the movie Son of God this spring), Judas receives the Last Supper from Jesus’ hand. When he goes out to betray Jesus, he chokes on the wafer. He couldn’t get that broken body of forgiveness into his system.
Peter and Judas are not the only failures in Holy Week. Jesus dies for all our sins. All institutions–religious, civil, military, social–team up and crucify Jesus. We all shout our demand for his death. We roll a stone in front of his tomb so he won’t come back and bother us again.
Then he’s back. Stone rolled away. His body restored, made new, as fresh as Adam in Eden, as fresh as your newborn, as scarred as anyone, but made new. Our failure led to his resurrection. And now he is offering us forgiveness, restoration, the charge to feed his lambs.
The worst failure ever has already happened in our successful execution of Jesus. Now no failure can come close to that one. And that failure meant life for the world.
What fruit can this resurrection, new-making God bear through our failures? Come worship with us all Holy Week and then on Easter morn and let’s find out together.